Say What You Need To Say

"Have no fear for giving in

Have no fear for giving over

You'd better know that in the end

Its better to say too much

Then never say what you need to say again"

 So I've been spending a lot of time trying to get and keep my shit together. Nothing like pain to serve as a wake up call to your life. Most of the the time I spend my days healing, shopping online and caring for my children. I also spend what is probably an unhealthy amount of time looking for and reading blogs where people make life choices and decisions that suck the breath out of my lungs and leave me screaming WTF at my screen. 

I start this post with that because some of those blogs that I read make me think about what kind of person I present myself to the world as. Do I want to stay the way that I am, or am I ready for some genuine changes. If so, changes into what? Are these lifestyle, spiritual or relationship changes? I know that I can't keep going the way that I was. I finally just said to myself last night, that this whole cycle that I'm caught in finally bores me and I'm ready for something new.

I want a better life for myself and my children. I'm contemplating leaving the city where I am for something new. I would like to spend more time living life rather than hiding away and this place really caters to the latter. I'm also scared that I'll relapse back into the old behaviors and there is a scary high rate of HIV here. Most importantly, my kids hate it here, and it's too expensive to have a decent lifestyle, pay rent and just live like anything but desperately poor. So I think we will be leaving soon.

It's kind of funny how I thought I would breeze up in here pregnant, have an abortion and just kind of get on with my life. Totally easy right? Wrong. Every roadblock I could encounter, I did. Some of them from others around me, some from bureaucracy, and some of my own design. I just had this picture of how things would be, and it didn't pan out that way.


"Even if your hands are shaking

And your faith is broken

Even as the eyes are closing

Do it with a heart wide open"

There's a lot to that story and I'm just beginning to process my feelings and the events that happened to me. It was very traumatic and I still have strong emotions to work through. I'm not sure how to write it though. It's too raw. If a "pro-life" troll came out of the woodwork on the basis of an abortion post, God help me if I write about how I feel now that I've given birth.

If anything, my experiences have strengthened my prochoice position and is the catalyst for a new book that I am currently writing. See, I did finally write that book. Guess I just had to have the "lived experience" first. Until next time.

The best I ever had

 Normally, I don't share my sexual experiences just to share them. I place them within a context of some kind to tell a bigger picture that I have in mind. This post is an exception to that rule. I was inspired to write this based on an email from a reader. Although I'm in my early 30's, the best sexual experience I ever had was about 6 weeks ago. I've had good sex, even great sex. Mostly mediocre so-so sex, with a dash of never again, horrible bad sex. But each of those times, something was missing.

Dana was a young man that I met on Craigslist. He was in his early twenties, white, over 6 feet and extremely fit. So fit in fact, that we met after he worked out at a nearby gym. Dana had a previous sexual experience with an older plus sized woman and he wanted it again. It was a fetish of his. There was something about the shape and feel of a bbw that set him off. I remember him telling me that the age difference was another turn on. He wanted me to teach him some things. When it was over, I was the one who had learned something new. Standing there in gym shorts and a white t-shirt, Dana looked like Adonis personified. I still figured the sex would be so-so because of his age. Imagine my total surprise an hour later.

My body was worshiped, lovingly touched, appreciated and gazed at. He left no fold untouched. One of the best moments was during missionary when he grabbed my breasts and squeezed them hard while he pushed in and out of me in a blur. Dana had endurance. He could go and go.

I get down on myself a lot, so I was amazed that he came to me already hard and erect. I wondered why a man as attractive as him would want to be with me. Self esteem issues cause me to seek out partners younger, fitter and more attractive than me. I value myself based on my ability to have sex with men who are like that. Once with them, I doubt their ability to find me attractive. I pretty much find it hard to relax during sex as I spend so much time watching my body to make sure it doesn't jiggle, hang or move the wrong way.

I think this is part of the reason I didn't enjoy my last time with Young Daddy. While in the reverse cowgirl position, I became aware of the fact that my stomach was slapping against my thighs and that was making noise. Instantly, I was turned off and became less centered on the amazing sensations in my pussy and more focused on minimizing that sound. Young Daddy didn't care as he was making sounds of his own, though his were more moans and groans. He noticed the change in me and asked at various times if I wanted to keep going. I think he thrives on the fact that he can make me cum. Tuning out and becoming focused on getting it over would turn any man off.

My absolute favorite part of the encounter, aside from the love he showered on my breasts, was being in doggy style position with Dana. He rubbed, smoothed, grabbed and slapped my ass, thighs and back. It was like he was thirsty and hungry for me and couldn't get enough. The sounds of his hard body and my softer one slapping together sent me over the edge. Feeling my ass jiggle with each thrust kept me focused and aware of the sensations moving through me and heightened my arousal. Whatever position we moved to, I loved seeing his eyes roll back in his head and his soft moaning sounds.

Dana left me extremely well fucked and all I could do was drape myself on a couch and try to still my breath and stop sweating so much. I was completely covered in sweat and my pussy was dripping wet and sore. After a quick shower, I slept like a baby until morning time. I think this was the first step in my sexual awakening. For years, sex was something men did to, on or around me. Dana was the first man to have sex with me. We didn't make love, though there were tender moments. We fucked. But, we fucked together and we mutually enjoyed it.  I didn't focus on making him cum to the exclusion of my own pleasure. Many of my experiences have found me trying to get the guy off so that I can please him or get the encounter over quickly.

I can see my body now and I'm less disgusted by it. I still ask for the lights to be dimmed, but I no longer keep a t-shirt or bra on and haven't for years. However when I was with Dana, I did turn around to undress despite the fact that he was going to see it anyway. I'm trying to stop doing that. I chuck my clothes with abandon and after sex I no longer jump up to get dressed. The internet has been wonderful as a learning aide and I've been able to use it to develop self-acceptance. The experience with Dana has been a big part of accepting my fat body.

The process

My "process"

Last week, I had access to about 4-5 men daily. Did I have sex with that many? No! But I had the ability to, and if I were younger I might have gone for it. I did in the past. You may wonder, "How does this fat bitch get fucked so much?". Well that's the purpose of this post. I'm going to write a little about how I find men, and what I tend to look for. Even a bit about how I choose a partner. Primarily, I'm looking for a sexual relationship. My life is too busy, and I'm too wounded to do more than have sex with someone at this point in my life. Last night I wanted BBC. For those of you not in the know, that refers to Big Black Cock. So, when I want what I want, and I want it in fast, I turn to Craigslist.

The key is a catchy headline and a concise and informative paragraph. It just needs to be what you are looking for, your stats and any other requirements or turn offs. For mine, I stated that I wanted some BBC and I told a little about myself. Of course, 95% of my responses were belligerent white men and a few Hispanics. But I did find the BBC I wanted and it was guuuud! But I digress lol. I tend to look several places when the 'itch' is upon me.

Depending upon the desire, I may use an ad placed on Craigslist, or I may try to find a man on pof.com. I have also branched out to Adult Friend Finder and a few other sites. Pof is great for cultivating a longer term friends with benefits relationship. For a quickie, Craigslist is the way to go.

Once the responses come in, I first look for ones with pictures. I respond most to clear pictures that do not features penises. Next, I want to know what the man is looking for, and if he can read. If you are a white dude, my BBC ad should have been passed over lol. Unfortunately, as I stated above, 95% of my responses before it was flagged, were white men. For some reason, a black woman stating a preference for black man is responded to with "Why does it have to be about color" and " We're all the same race." No, I do not discriminate, but sometimes I have this need for a man of my own race, and that will not be sated by a non-black man. Once I have looked at the emails with pictures, I read through those without. I have gotten some great responses from a guy who didn't send a picture initially because he was wary of my being either a 'pro' or a bot.

What makes me choose a man is several things. He should make me feel comfortable and at ease. A man who boasts too much about his sexual prowess and skills usually sucks in bed. Any man who is desperate to meet, to the point of hounding me days after I've stopped emailing him, gets blocked. I also weed out Angry Men, and Slut Punishers. If a man spends emails testing me and telling me he is afraid or bitter because of past women in his life, I bounce. Some men are uncomfortable with expressions of feminine sexuality. They may become reticent or belligerent if confronted with the fact that real women fuck. Not just make sweet Victorian (Just lay back and think of England) love, but sweating, screaming, ugly faces fucking. Some feel the need to punish these sluts and it can escalate to violence, stalking or abuse. So yea, I avoid them.

I tend to spend a lot of time emailing back and forth and getting to know the guy. Once things progress this turns into text messaging and phone calls. I may text a man over 70 times and have several conversations before I feel comfortable enough to meet him. The next step, well you read about that all the time on this blog. If you have any questions, respond to this post and I will followup with another post.

Big, beautiful, black and addicted?! Pt. 2

See, this article gets it. It article describes the ideas behind who or what is perceived as a sexual addict. Successful Americans who exhibit a high out of control sex drive are more apt to be labelled addicted to sex. A minority, especially a black woman, is often seen as hypersexual. Increased sexual activity, or hypersexuality, is a facet of many disorders such a manic depression, sexual addiction, some personality disorders, and some victims of child sexual abuse will exhibit hypersexual traits during puberty and beyond.

Let's see. I grapple with manic depression, a personality disorder (none of your business :P), and I was the victim of child sexual abuse. I don't want to lay the blame solely on those factors, but I think they are contributing causes for my addiction. As I meet more sexual addicts, I often meet people from different walks of life who have the same or similar life stories. Sexual abuse, abandonment as a child, mental problems, other addictions.

This part especially drove home the point I have been trying to make, and I could identify myself in it:

"Generally, a sexual addict gains little pleasure from sexual activity and is unable to form a bond with his or her partner. The actions of a hyper-sexual often lead to feelings of guilt, embarrassment and shame. The sexual addict overlooks the risks and consequences, be it financial, health, social or emotional.
Hyper-sexuality can be a result of adrenal gland abnormalities or disease, bipolar disorder sometimes referred to as manic depressive disorder and often associated with juvenile hyper-sexuality, puberty, frontal lobe trauma; it has also been observed in the elderly suffering from dementia."

I derive little sexual pleasure from my acting out, this week notwithstanding. In fact, I sometimes experience pain or injury as a result. I don't feel very empowered with my ass up in the air and my face on the ground. After the experience is over, I freak out about the consequences. When I'm riding the moment to hell, nothing affects me. Afterwards I have to pick up all the pieces and try to prevent it from happening again.

I will write on this more later, but I thought this was a great find for others like me out there experiencing this. We hide ashamed, feeling guilty and hurting inside. If more people came out about their struggles, maybe people would have more understanding for us. Sometimes I doubt it though. Sexual addiction, especially among poor black women is still seen as a moral issue and not as a mental health one. Public opinion says that we just need to control ourselves. Stop having babies. Lose weight. Hide behind (marry) a man. Control our unbridled sexuality. Just Disappear.

"Stand up"

Well, I'm sitting here listening to Lil Wayne thinking about an encounter I just had. Devon seemed like the kind of man I normally have sex with. Except he wasn't. His intensity scared me and I shied away from his eyes much of the time as it seemed he could truly see to the center of me. Something happened which I've never had happen before.

I went down on my knees as usual. My sexual encounters have a very ritualistic manner to them. The guy touches me a little, then I fall to my knees and suck him until it's time to have sex. No one has ever did what Devon did tonight. He told me to stand up. He kissed and savored my body in a way few men ever have. I'm blown.

I'm so used to sliding to my knees to receive some guy's cock in my mouth. Whether for free, or because I'm getting paid, it's what I do. I know a lot of it has to do with the experiences I had at 12 with an almost 19 year old man. He used me as his personal suck machine every time he would see me. Something like that sticks with you.

I can say I have never had my pussy so thoroughly loved in its whole life. My G-spot was caressed, massaged, rubbed and rocked. Yes rocked. I was so wet after awhile that he slid several fingers inside me and it was like a mini introduction to fisting. He didn't hurt me, in fact he ignited passions, sensations and nerves I didn't know I had. My legs were in the air, and I clenched down on him like a fist. I had to cover my mouth at one point to keep from screaming. I'm sure I had a few mini orgasms around his hand before I stopped him to offer that blow job again. All I can say is wow.

Big, beautiful, black and addicted?!

When most people think about sexual addiction, they're thinking about a man. A white male in his 20's or 30's. Middle class. Educated. Married. They're not thinking about a person of color, poor, or female. There are words for what we are and it has nothing to do with addiction. Immoral. Licentious. Promiscuous. Nonwhites, the poor and women are never allowed to have reasons for their failings. Instead our shortcomings are supposed to be hard coded into our DNA and reinforced through "negative" cultural practices and standards. Bullshit.

I don't know why I'm like this. I know that many things have combined to make me this way. Experiences, choices and luck have all mixed together to make me the way that I am. To many people, it seems incongruous that a person like me could not only be addicted to sex, but actually have it that often. I often fight the assumptions from others that a big woman is desperate, promiscuous and has few options. I have options and I exercise them regularly.

I've been approached and approach. While my preference as of late is young and athletic, I have had sex with chubby and skinny men as well. I've been sought out, desired, stalked and maybe loved. Even at my dustiest and most broken, I've had options and someone sniffing at me. Even if I really didn't want them to lol.

Lately it amazes me the number of men who are searching for a bigger woman, especially one of color or older. Men who are pretty desirable and who you would expect to find on the arm of an equally attractive girl. As I have said before, I know I'm not pretty. But I have sex appeal in buckets. My body drips sex and I send out feelers towards men that they can understand.

Most of my life, I've felt inadequate. I was scarred from the time I spent enrolled at a private school. Most of the children were the offspring of multigenerational mixed race parents. Parents like mine. Only problem was I took more after the African side of the family than the more "exotic" sides. If students weren't light, bright and damn near white, they had money or were smart. That's the only way you got in there. I was smart. One boy in particular made my time a daily hell. His personal nickname for me was 'Blackie' which he used to describe my copper colored skin. The boy was almost coal colored. When I called him on it, he let me know that it was ok for men to be so dark, but that it was wrong for a woman to be so black.

I remember being made to feel inadequate for my skin color and hair. There was a boy in our class who showed an interest in me above and beyond that of the other girls. You'd be surprised how much a pair of C cup breasts will influence a fourth grade boy! We were caught kissing, and only I was punished by our teacher. She beat it into me that I was nasty, promiscuous and that I sullying that poor mulatto boy with my whorish behavior. Little wonder I withdrew even more into myself. This was the first positive thing that had happened to me since my rape that year, and that teacher made me feel so dirty about it. I think part of it was that she knew about the rape and felt it had tainted me somehow.

At home, my mother never made me feel inadequate about my color. She had plenty of fodder with my weight and hair. I was always 10-15 lbs overweight, and she made sure I knew that she was much smaller at my age. I can remember growing out of my favorite pair of yellow pants and feeling like shit because I was too fat to fit them anymore. I was 8 and already hated my body. Eventually I stopped eating except for dinner and a snack. Soon I would binge, purge and starve my body in an effort to slim it.

My hair is mostly nappy with a looser texture towards the back, unlike her curly and wavy mane. I would ask why mine had to be so ugly and she would explain to me that we had different fathers. That my grandfather had given her that, and mine had cursed me with this. She made sure I understood that I shouldn't make a baby with a man who had nappy hair. And I knew how important it was to maintain the racial composition of our family. So I coveted mainly mixed looking guys who resembled my grandfathers and stayed away from darker men who could give me babies with nappy hair and dark skin. To this day if you asked me, I would say that my skin color looks closest to Alek Wek, even though my skin is much, much lighter than that. It's how I perceive myself.

By the time I was in my late teens and early twenties, I was using my body to gain attention and  make money. I think my addictions stem from my need to control uncomfortable emotions, situations and thoughts. Instead of thinking about my rapes, I could snort, smoke and fuck myself into numbness. Sometimes it worked. I'm going to end it there, but I will try to write more in depth with issues of addiction on this blog. Sometimes people have these preconceived ideas of how a group of people will behave. My purpose for this blog, along with telling my story, is to shatter that mindset. Addicts are people.