The Black Exhibit – More

I’ve never had bad sex, but  I haven’t always had great sex. So when I first experienced what should have been just a quick touch-and-go that turned out to be a two day head pounding ordeal that knocked the words and wind out of me, I felt I had to write it down somewhere. Becoming a sexually liberated black woman has been a struggle. You fight with constant feelings of inadequacy. Do I need to lose weight. What is my best sexual position. Did he enjoy himself. Am I attractive enough. How do I ask for more of what I want. What is my best side during sex. How do I express what I want from a sexual encounter without making my partner feel inferior. Life truly is too short to have bad sex. Once you figure that out, everything else kinda falls into place.

More is my dirty little secret. It is one of those experiences I began to have once I let go of my insecurities and demanded to be fulfilled not only physically but mentally from sex. Years ago, I would never think about sharing something so personal and salacious with readers. But that was then, and this is now. With my hands stretched out and up, and my breathing focused on keeping the beat, of course I want more and more and more and ……………..



Like the cool breeze caressing my cheek,

Like paint streaks of sun through my window,

Like warm sand engulfing my feet,

Like low fruit branches whistling in my air,

I yearn for the peace that comes with the presence of you inside of me.

That loud explosion of dance and music,

That engulf my thoughts as I feel your every move within.

With steady breaths I catch the beat,

And ride the wind as it takes me further from reality,

Into a fantasy of soft multi-colored clouds that cover me with tingling hairs that cause shivers on my skin.

I delight in the thought that you were supposed to be somewhere else.

How do you describe this feeling?

Forever giving into the need to be with you, and have you circle repeatedly within the walls that God clearly made only for your presence.

With soft murmurs I repeat Psalms of longing remembrances of want and need,

Of pace,

And speed.

I see within the contours of your eyes the satisfaction that only my wetness can bring.

Forgetting the sounds,

Blinded by erotic passionate images,

I respond to your every command.

As your long hard gift from Mother Nature,
my orgasm demands.

And with screams and roars of ‘no not yet’

I lose my sense of decency and restraint.

My sharp nails tearing into your back,

As you tear in my ohhhhhhhhhh ……

Begging and pleading to be released from paradise,

Strong pants of ‘God damnnnnnnnnnn’ echo into the hills,

As the neighbours back lights are turned on in a curious response to the midnight noises,

As the dogs bark in unison, begging to be released from the sounds of our sweet melody.

I explode!

Jammed against the wall I am now one with the wood,

Collapsing body parts one section at a time,

I slide to the floor like a snake,

As my sweat and busted wetness run down my legs between the tiles of the balcony’s edge,

I lift my shaking hands in surrender,

Scrambling for something,

Anything to cover my embarrassment at what has just happened.

I give up as I realise from the soaked smell of our bodies,

This was clearly more than just a fu ………..


*More is a poem from my upcoming poetry and short story publication ‘The Black Exhibit’. Release date is 08/10/16; my 35th birthday.




3 thoughts on “The Black Exhibit – More


    THIS is #PASSIONENDORSED writing right here. WOW … WOW WOW …….

    I LOVE THIS piece, and not just because it’s of my favourite subject. But I can FEEL it. I love poetry I can feel….


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