My Only Sin Was Loving You Too Much

IMG_0629Sleep felt foreign at the moment, laying down, closing his eyes, it just wouldn’t come. Getting out of bed as not to disturb her he walked out the bedroom and lied on the couch. Not knowing how long his eyes had been closed he could hear her in the kitchen, opening the fridge, closing the fridge. Running water in the sink, letting water out of the sink. His temper and stress had her walking on egg shells and her trust issues and the intensity of her love had him not knowing how to approach her at times. Not knowing how to explain to her that her doubts and fears were unwarranted.

His phone sitting on the kitchen table, he made no effort to go get it. If she was going to look through it, she was going to look through it. It’s the nature of women he thought to himself, curiosity killed the cat.

When she walked in the living room and put the TV on mute he knew tonight wouldn’t just be another sleepless night but another night without peace. He knew what the look meant before any words came out of her mouth. The look of fear mixed with anger, passion mixed with uncertainty.

“I know you want me to forget about it, to get over it but I still have questions. Why is it okay for you to just dismiss what’s important to me? What did the message say? Are you going on dates? Are there other women? I saw you looking up restaurants online, you took off work. Is there someone else Ron?”

The more she talked, the more he tried to put himself in her shoes but the more he tried to understand her, the more he just couldn’t. Though he loved women, though he never made it a secret about his past relationships he’d changed for her. Gone were the late night text and phone calls. Gone were the happy hours and friends that couldn’t except he wasn’t the man he used to be. Every one around him saw it, so why couldn’t she see it?

Why were tears of pain falling from her eyes at 3:00am instead of tears of pleasure? He wanted to hold her, hug her, kiss her and tell her it was going to be alright but his pride ran deep. His love for her was unquestionable so why couldn’t her faith in him be unwavering?

Before he knew it the glass in his hand shattered against the living room door!

“Why don’t you ever just shut up?! You have to pick a fight every night because of your got damn insecurities?!”

Turning his back and walking towards the kitchen he could hear her footsteps behind him. Standing in a pair of panties and holding her wine glass she pushed him in the back and as soon as he turned around he felt the wine hit his face!

“You don’t talk to me like that! I’m not afraid of you and you will not disrespect me!” His hand was around her neck before she finished her sentence. Letting her go, she gasped for air as he backed up.

Wiping the wine out his eyes with his shirt he wasn’t fast enough as the glass she was holding connected with his mouth. The taste of blood on his tongue and the immediate swelling on the tips of his fingers. Their fights had always been bad but the pint up hostility, aggression, resentment. It boiled over to a place it had never been to before. The aggression a substitute for desire. Rage a substitute for words that needed to be spoken.

Seeing his mouth bleeding she could muster no compassion, not for the man that had taken everything from her that made her, her. Her love for him was in direct conflict with the independence and control she had in her own life. The deeper he penetrated her heart, the more she felt helpless in just how much control he had over her mind, body and soul.

As they kissed he bit her lip and looking into his eyes she licked the blood off his mouth. As their tongues intertwined she ripped open his shirt and he pinned her against the wall. Hunger being replaced by hate; the intensity of him needing to be inside of her being replaced by the urge to grab his keys and never see her again.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, her eyes glazed over.

“I love you sooo much. I need you sooo much! If you’re going to leave me, do it now because I won’t be okay if you drag this out knowing it’s not what you want.”

He didn’t know why he was crying. Part of him wanted to believe it was because she felt like Heaven in his arms but a part of him knew it was because the intensity of their love scared him just as much as it scared her.

Love this deeply rarely works because the fire tends to consume everyone.

Love Letter #12

Dear Future Wife,

Good Morning! I woke up in a really good mood this morning and I’d like to think you had something to do with that. I know you prayed for me last night, I know you slept alone dreaming about us. I can’t explain how I know, I just know.

Love is about realizing what’s important. It’s about waking up and smiling because the bills are paid and I know we’re going to go to church. It’s about seeing you wrapped in a towel and not wanting you physically but just smiling because you’re here, because I can feel you in the room. I’m not afraid of falling anymore, I’ve started to warm at the thought of it.

When I was younger I told myself I wouldn’t be ready for a wife until I could give her this seven thousand dollar ring and house and present her with a new car on our six month anniversary. My ideas of what love and commitment were, were childish, not childish because they aren’t great gestures but childish because love isn’t materialistic or based on what you can do for me and I can do for you. Love is simple and you build on it, you build on the small things until one day you look up and the big things are just there. Just here.

I would never give you a fake diamond because it looked like something really expensive. I know what you deserve and I will give you that one day but I have no problem falling to my knees with a one carat ring I got from a pawn shop. I would love to sit on the tail gate of my truck eating pizza and HEB wine with you while you’re wearing that ring proudly. There’s nothing fake about our future, nothing fake about the potential greatness of our love. Over these past couple of years I’ve prepared myself for you and I’m excited. I can see the growth and I can see us.

Different men prioritize different things. Some value money, some lust, some just want attention with no real motive other than filling a void. I value funny, I value soft, I value family and honesty and morals. Maybe if I would have written this letter two years ago I’d have been writing about morning sex when writing to my future wife, when writing to you. Now all I want in the morning is for you to wake me up for work and for us to talk while we get ready. Just to be loved by you and for you to know I’d lay down my life without hesitation for you.

So good morning beautiful and enjoy your day! Our day is coming soon, know that.

Love Always and Forever,

Demez F. White

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Women That Inspire Greatness

Saturday Nights

Saturday Nights

I used to write about sex often but I’ve slowed that over the past couple of years. No specific reason, I just wanted to become a better writer, become a more diverse writer. That doesn’t mean that sex doesn’t cross my mind, that nights like this I don’t lie on the couch and wish there were a warm pair of thighs straddling me. I’ve just learned to appreciate quality over quantity. To wait for my time and not rush.

Saying all that; these are the nasty things I miss about having a girlfriend. Some of these will be a tad bit explicit so if that’s not your thing I suggest you stop reading now. I’ve often written this but I haven’t had to say it in awhile. I’m a man that writes for adults with adult experiences and adult emotions. Being nasty, having erotic and carnal thoughts are innate in us.

When she’s giving you a blow job and she swallows and lets it sit on her tongue for a second right before she does like, “I told you I love the way you taste.”

When you’re somewhere really quiet or serious and you’re about to fall asleep or your mind is on business or something and she whispers in your ear, “I’m stressed, I need to ride your face tonight.”

When she’s fresh out the shower and her robe or t-shirt is sticking to her body, you know she’s not wearing anything underneath. She has that look like she’s tired so you know there’s no sex tonight. But then you can feel her breath on your neck, her hands roaming and that first kiss. That first kiss is so damn powerful. She looks you in the eyes and tells you, “You can put it wherever you want baby.”

There’s the moments when she’s cooking and you just stand in the doorway, not saying anything, not trying to scare her. Just watching, appreciating her ass, her neck, her legs. Thinking to yourself, “How did I get this lucky?” Walking up behind her, your hand up her shirt, your lips on the back of her neck. She’s still stirring, still mixing, smiling, laughing, “You’re going to make me burn the food, stop, you know what that does to me.” Everything in you wants to put her on the counter but it smells so good so you get one last kiss and walk away. Knowing after dinner she’s going to be insatiable.

You have attraction, that physical, raw attraction. You can’t control that, you can’t not want to touch her, not want to lick her or bite her. Even if it’s not good for you or you know it’s going to have repercussions. We’ve all experienced that. Then you have that attraction that transcends the physical. You see her body, you see her curves, you can’t keep your hands off her thighs while you’re driving. She can’t stop playing with your ear while you’re trying to watch the game. It’s almost not even sexual but just purposeful. Like there’s something that’s addictive about just having your hands on them. You know what that is? It’s intimacy, it’s touching her without having to touch her. It’s reading her mind and not knowing the details but knowing whether she’s happy, sad, wet, angry, hurting or just feeling playful. It’s those moments when you know that she’s the one. Not when you’re inside of her or when you call and she doesn’t pick up. It’s the moments where intimacy rises above our beings.

One Night Can Give Us A Thousand Memories

Memories

Memories

Sometimes I think I’m damaged, crazy maybe or just a coward. Are those words harsh? Yes they are but they’re the truth. What’s a coward? A coward is a man that awakens a woman’s love with no intentions of returning that love. A coward is a man that would rather have a thousand options than accept that one option that can change his life. I’d hit any man that called me a coward. Without hesitation. So should I slap myself?

I’m a good man. I work every day, I look after my family, I’m always here for there no matter what. I live next door to my grandmother because the thought of her being home alone scares me to death. I’m not sure I’m the most attractive guy but I don’t think I’m Sam Cassell. I have traits and qualities that will make me an amazing husband but I have flaws that I’m not sure I’m ready to put in a woman’s life. A can be moody, insecure, mean. I go into these moments where I don’t want to be bothered. You can’t be like that when you’re in a relationship. I can’t expect her to deal with that.

Or am I wrong? Isn’t part of being with someone making them better? Isn’t part of falling in love and giving your all allowing someone to be there for you when your shortcomings make you feel like you aren’t enough? This idea that we have to be a finished product to find love and happiness is something that I struggle with. I struggle with not having everything together. I struggle with being a man that can’t take care of everything. That’s doesn’t make sense though, we should be building the kingdom together. We should be able to talk about what I need to work on and I should open up and be honest with her in a way I’m not honest with anyone else. I haven’t done that before and it scares me. Does that make me weak? Foolish? Or does it make me a man.

I can be foolish but I have grown and I’ll continue to grow.

Demez F. White

It’s Never A Bad Time to Squeeze It

20140724-110321.jpg There are three types of hugs women give. You have the church hug/ don’t get the wrong impression hug which is reserved for associates, creepy uncles and guy friends that will never see her naked.

You have the “I haven’t seen you in forever hug” which is for family, friends and guys that have seen her naked but probably won’t again.

Lastly you have the, “It’s yours baby” hugs which are pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, lips on neck. If only people weren’t looking hugs. The ones usually reserved for that one man whose text get answered in 2.5 seconds.

Some women are just hug sluts, don’t let them fool you into thinking anything is going to come from their body to body interaction. They either get off on having you believe you have a chance or they’re just comfortable hugging.

Good hugs, good kisses and a good ass grab go together like whiskey, cigars and Godiva. They usually take place up against a door, up against a vehicle or if you’re a lumberjack or jogger up against a tree. Maxi dresses, sun dresses, tights, boy shorts; they all maximize the experience.

Appreciate them when you get them because it’s rare you’ll meet a woman that has a perfectly grab friendly ass, is a good kisser and has that hunger that gets right to the edge of self control.

Who doesn’t love a good hug.

If I Had You For 24 Hours

If I had you for one day we’d go grocery shopping. You can push the basket, I’d hug you from behind. Kiss you in the back of your neck. We’d argue over the white peaches or colorful peaches.

If I had you for 24hrs we’d spend half of those hours in bed or on the couch just talking. Reminiscing, flirting. I like cooking so I’d cook you French toast, watch you eat in one of my shirts. Your thighs teasing me. Me welcoming the tease.

If I had you for 24 hours I’d take you to the park, to the mall, out to eat. We’d laugh and touch each other in the most subtle ways possible. It would simply be about spending time with you.

If I had a day I’d introduce you to my grandmother. I’d hug you and smile at you and love you.

– Demez20140723-113310.jpg

Sex Is Always important: the Person You’re Having It With Just Might Not Be

feeling I wrote an article a while back entitled “There’s No Such Thing As Meaningless Sex,” and my logic was every time we give ourselves to someone we give a piece of ourselves to them. Whether it’s mentally, spiritually, emotionally or just physically. I thought it was a pretty straight forward piece but people actually disagreed with me in the comments. I’m not a man that believes in “I’m right, leave me alone.” If you have a differing opinion, I’d like to hear it and understand it.

For the most part it was a lot of people that were trying to belittle the spiritual aspect. I’m not going to argue with those people but there were also people that simply believe they can have sex with no emotional attachment. I can’t relate to that but who was I to tell them otherwise? Not to mention I can understand it.

Then there was one woman that sort of summed everything up in one breath, in one sentence. “Sex is always important, the person you’re having it with just might not be.” In that moment I realized that my logic wasn’t wrong but I hadn’t accounted for one very important, very particular thing. Good sex and good people are in one category and bad sex and people that don’t move you or in another. I still believe that sex on any level should be intimate but I can’t attach my beliefs to society as a whole. There are some women you look forward to holding after it’s over and some who you hand a paper towel and look to make sure she didn’t leave her panties. Some men get breakfast and looks of admiration; some men get looks of, “why did I waste you on my body count?”

In a perfect world which is where some of my writing takes place all of us are created equal. Not literally but just individually. That’s not right and I know it isn’t right but I’m still trying to figure out how to incorporate core values with what’s happening in the real world. I’m working on that as a writer. I never want my words to come off as judgmental but I also don’t want to write what people want to hear. Sex is addictive and a part of addictions that’s scary is sometimes you get addicted to the wrong person and wrong situation.

~ Demez F. White