I Don’t Want to Survive; I Want to Thrive

img_2103“Grab her by the pussy.” No matter how many times I hear it in my head I can’t help but to laugh. Not one of those gut busting, tears coming out of my eyes laughs, but one of those this is crazy laughs. I’m not laughing this morning and neither are most of the men and women I know.

I keep hearing how African Americans survived slavery and survived Jim Crow and survived the harshness of the Civil Rights Movement and the Reagan era. Stop telling me how we survived mass incarceration. “We survived all that, we’ll survive Donald Trump as President.” It’s not Trump I’m afraid of, it’s Trump’s America that scares me. A world of racial profiling and 4 dollar a gallon gas. I am not my ancestors and I love them for surviving and living but I choose not to survive. I choose to thrive. I choose to not sit at home behind my computer and sulk and be afraid and not cause trouble at work. I choose to hold my head up high, walk into my office and remind anyone that’s jubilant about last night’s victory that we have HR for a reason and I won’t threaten you are curse you out. I will simply write an email getting you fired for discussing politics at work.

Last night was my youngest sister’s 15th birthday. When we were having dinner she told us she got a letter from Stanford University to come visit the school and be a part of a program. She is incredibly smart and mature, she writes short stories and loves photography. Her future is as bright as she wants it to be, that doesn’t stop because of Trump or his supporters. Today’s weather mirrors how my heart feels. Dark, cold, unsettling but with a new day comes a new sky and with a new sky comes the ability to rise above this America we are now living in.

I don’t want to survive. I don’t want to get disrespected and marginalized and not get the same opportunities and be okay with it. Surviving is what our ancestors did because they had no choice because it was survive or die. We have a choice, not just to survive but to thrive. We have a choice on whether or not we want to build something and make something of ourselves or survive. On whether or not we want to accept racism, sexism, elitism and survive or look racism, sexism and elitism in the face and say, “Move or get ran over.”

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Midnight Thoughts: The Man v. The Writer

Sometimes I feel like I’m working my life away. I get online while I’m at work and I see people taking all these vacations and going out with friends and I’m here, building these roads, writing. I keep telling myself working hard now is going to mean freedom later in life. I do believe that but it still gets me at times.

As much as I write about doing things the right way, being accountable, you know what I’ve never done? I’ve never truly begged anyone. Now I know what you’re thinking, should any of us be begging? Probably not but most have. At some point there was some woman or man that you just called five times in a row. A person who’s house you just had to show up to, who’s job you just had to stop by. I have never done that.

My pride is a gift and a curse. I love that about myself but I’m afraid of what that means to me at times. I don’t ask for help even when I need it. I’d rather go without and find a way then depend on others. Even though I know in my heart and mind, you can’t do it alone. No matter how talented or prideful you just can’t do it alone.

I want some peanut butter cookies.

~ Demez F. Whiteletter-xy6k4p

Stress Relievers

20140627-230359.jpg Leaving the meeting he knew it was his fault. Everyone in the room knew it was his fault though none of them were willing to say it. It was his 3rd big screwup in as many months and it wasn’t like him at all.

Loosening his tie, closing his office door all he could think was, “Why is this happening?” The mistake had been made and sitting in an empty office on a Friday wasn’t going to fix it.

Scrolling though his phone only one number stood out, “I can’t focus, I’m fucking up. You want to get a drink?” The text read.

“I want you to come fuck me,” she responded.

Between work and work he hadn’t seen her in a month, as soon as he read to text he could feel himself getting hard. Adjusting his dick, looking at the stack of contracts on his desk; he just walked out the office.

“This shit can wait until Monday.” He said to no one in particular.

Normally there would be some playful back and forth. He’d ask her if he needed to bring anything, if she was hungry. Not today though. “I want you to come fuck me.” Seeing those words over and over on his screen did something to him. Running red lights he justified as yellow, rolling through stop signs, weaving through cars in traffic he needed to relieve the stress that had him drinking and not sleeping.

Every 5 minutes or so he would get a picture. The first was just a bra and panties on the bed, “Should I put them on or nah?” The second was her in a short robe, clear she’d just gotten out the shower by the way it was sticking to her. It was open but just enough. Her hands on where her panties should have been. “If you don’t hurry and get here I’m starting without you!” The 3rd picture almost made him hit two cars. Her robe was on one side of the bed, her lingerie was on the other. A vibrator lying beside her. On all fours, completely naked, her legs spread. “Thank God for timers on camera phones. I swear I’ve never been this wet.” He put the phone face down and images flashed before his eyes like lightening.

10 minutes later he was pulling into her driveway. Ready to bang on the door he thought about it and it was unlocked. Walking inside, music playing, candles burning. Her in the kitchen in the same robe, in the same heels. Not saying a word, just kissing her hard, sucking on her bottom lip, cupping her breast. Her trying her best to unbuckle his pants with his hands making the come here motion inside of her.

Biting her shoulder, licking her neck, the robe hanging from the ceiling fan, her bent over! That first moment he slides in, the tightness and wetness gripping him. One hand on the back of her neck, the other hand alternating between slapping her ass and the finger in her ass.

No taking it slow, no warming up or finding a rhythm. Just him trying to relieve the stress and her all so willing to be that stress reliever.

Demez F. White

If We Grocery Shop Together; We Go Together

Shopping Together

Shopping Together

You want to know what’s just as intimate as kissing or cuddling in boxers while there’s a thunderstorm raging in the background? What you only do with the woman you love because to do it with anyone else would be blah? Grocery shopping.

We can have dinner together, we can walk arm in arm around Memorial Park on a beautiful day or City Centre on a beautiful night but nothing means, “I’m into you,” more than if we grocery shop together. It means I’m buying the food you like, it means I’ll have yogurt when I probably would have just bought Blue Bell. It means I’m going to insist we go on a Saturday so we can eat samples at Sam’s or Specs. It means we’ll argue about what’s better, Honey Nut Cheerios or Frosted Flakes. It means you’ll fuss at me for wanting to buy steak because red meat isn’t good for me. Grocery shopping together means I’m telling you no other woman is going to be opening up my fridge. ‘

Have you ever come home and put food up? Had her chopping up onions or lettuce or tomato’s while you got the meat ready? Drank a beer while she drank wine while music played and no words are needed because it just feels right.

If we grocery shop together; we go together.

If you take off your shoes and bra and soon as you come to my house after work; we go together.

If you don’t ask for it but just go get it. You already know what we are.

I don’t make the rules, I just enjoy them. It’s been years since I made groceries with someone, I have a feeling it’s coming around sooner than I think.

A Wednesday Love Letter

Dear You,

Not much is getting done at work today due to this rain so I’ve decided to write. I think you’re beautiful in every way a man can and should be attracted to a woman.

Your style, your hair, your intellect and smile all have a way of dragging me in deeper and deeper until I’m afraid there will be no viable alternative.

I have a way with words, I have my entire life but when it comes to you I find myself pausing, googling and listening to music just to find a breath of an idea to compare to you.

Talking to women is the easiest and most natural thing in the world to me. I notice every detail and cater each word of every compliment to fit her. Getting a smile or hearing a laugh is almost as rewarding as selling a book or having sex at times.

Saying all that, with all of my confidence and success and at times arrogance I’m still terrified of your perfection. Terrified that I’m not good enough, tall enough, smart enough, successful enough.

It’s almost silly when I think about it in absence of you but you are you and in my mind you’re everything God wants me to have. Everything I write about and dream about and pray about.

Your lips scream kiss me.

Your eyes scream ‘you can’t handle me.’

Your voice is a melody that makes my heart beat as though I’m on a stage begging for my life. The desire I feel for you gives me strength and courage to be great!

Because you deserve great. You deserve the world and on the life of the son you’ll give me one day I promise to give you that world!

All those other men were practice for me. I love you even though you’re not mine and in time I’ll be in love with you!

Be safe and know I’m coming for you.

Perfection in Writing

Perfection in Writing


Sincerely Yours,

Your Future Husband

Late Night Thoughts

I don’t feel great right now. I’m sure it’s the flu but I haven’t had that in so long I can’t be 100% positive. Sitting on top of I-10 watching my crew work all I want is for them to finish so I can go home and get in bed.

My grandfather has to have another surgery tomorrow because the leg they cut off isn’t healing. The last time I saw him it took everything in me not to cry when he told me to go get his wheelchair so he could go home. I feel like they’re just gutting him piece by piece and the shit is eating me up inside!

Yesterday when I got off I saw my grandmother next door cleaning her flower beds. I got some trash bags and went over to start picking up the stuff she trimmed. I got Ethan out the house and told him that men help in the yard. He took it so serious. His dad isn’t around and I feel like its my responsibility to teach him. I gave him two dollars and told him he did a great job, he lit up. That made my day.

My aunt is always talking about taking them and moving far away. That scares the hell out of me; those kids saved me. Added years to my grandparents lives.

Pillow talk. I miss that so much, I should be having that instead of writing. I’m 30 and there are days where I feel like Superman and days where I feel like an utter fucking failure. I keep waiting for that person to tell me I’m not and I believe them.

I can see myself becoming mean, becoming recluse and I know if I don’t fix it quick something bad will happen.

Just pray for me.

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Touch It For Me Now… (Explicit Content)

dress-naked.jpg “I was bored at work today so I put my finger inside to see how tight it was, I think these kegals have been working.” I could tell she was whispering, she liked talking like this when there were people around. I could hear them talking in the background.

“I was sitting at my desk and I know you were out of town two weeks ago and last week mother nature was visiting, I’m feigning over here.”
Her voice wasn’t calm anymore, I’m sure to anyone watching they couldn’t tell the difference but I could. It was a subtle shift in her tone.

“What if I told you I want you to touch your pussy for me right now.” She laughed, she laughed because she wanted to talk shit back but she knew that I knew she couldn’t. To every one in that room she’d probably never said a curse word in her life. If only they knew her mouth like I did.

“I’d tell you that my current situation doesn’t allow me access to those files at the moment but I can get them to you shortly.”

“Touch it right now!”

Now it was time for my tone to change. I wasn’t laughing or playing. Standing up and closing my office door I listened to her breathe.

“Those files are locked up tight; you’re being unreasonable. Give me some time.”

Knowing what she was thinking, knowing she was wet was making this serious for me. Two weeks was a long time for us. We were both about to explode.

“Right now I’m unbuttoning your blouse and biting your nipples through your bra. I’m going to suck them but I like doing this first because I know how much you want me to pull them out. Leave your heels on, leave your skirt on, I’m going to have you step out your panties and I’ll put them in my pocket for safe keeping.”

I paused so that she would do what I knew she would do.

“Please keep going sir, I’m listening.theres still time before my meeting starts.”

“Eating pussy is an art. Rubbing your clit with my thumb, watching you watch how wet you sound. It’s warm, tight like you said it was. Performing on you is like kissing you. It starts with just my lips and then I use my tongue. The more you moan, the more you move your hips, the more you play in my hair; the harder I suck. You jump when I slide a third finger in your ass but you don’t stop me. One for the clit, one for your pussy and one for your ass. Not too deep but deep enough for you to cum. Would you like to sit on my face?”

“I’m touching the file right now. I found a way to get a quick look at it. I’d like to do more but I just can’t get full access at the moment.”

Feeling how hard I was, thinking about her in that conference room trying her best not to get caught touching herself under the table.

“All I’ve been thinking about is cumming in you. I love how nasty you get when you’re riding me. How in control you are. My dick fits inside of you like a glove. What you’re touching right now, that heat you feel on your finger tips. It’s mines. I want you to climb off my dick and taste how you taste. I want to watch you suck your juices off what’s yours.

Click… I put the phone down knowing she couldn’t take it anymore. My phone vibrated with a text seconds later.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you when I get out of this damn meeting! Leave work now and go get what we need for the weekend because neither of us are leaving your house until Monday morning! It is yours by the way!”