L.O.L. (non sexual)
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Posted:Jan 16, 2012 6:39 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2012 1:17 pm
6946 Views
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I’m a “hot Southern mess” dressed in a blanket and as long as it’s not wet I’m going to put it on the bed and frickin’ make it. Even if I’m the one who unknowingly skips page one, I leave the wrong button undone, and I find far too much fun in a pun. See, sometimes you have to either laugh or cry just to get by which is why I prefer to cover my bases and laugh until the mascara is running down my faces.
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Nimbus (a bit ficticious!)
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Posted:Mar 1, 2011 4:32 pm
Last Updated:Jan 16, 2012 6:37 pm
7822 Views
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Once I dated a man named Jack who loved to tap that from the back. Of me. You see, I was his mistress because his Misses missed his advances. She wouldn’t even stick her hand down his britches. But I did.
And it sure was sensuously sinsuous. He had such thickness. And he sure knew how to work with this. In fact, it was a fact that Jack be nimbus, Jack be quickus, Jack jump over the candle stickus. With his big dickus. Flickus flickus clitoris. Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!
After a few months of physical bliss the whole thing turned into a vicious mess. I professed my love and he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t (wouldn’t) confess to that Misses and instead expressed that I would never be able to shop for a wedding dress.
I felt so invalid, so insulted. And this resulted in what happened next; photos of our sex. Sent to her office.
He should have been more cautious.
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The Sincerest Form of Flattery
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Posted:Feb 4, 2011 6:53 pm
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2013 3:30 pm
7630 Views
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He says he likes my goodies, but can he lick my pussy? He speaks of his techniques and of all the ways I deserve to be praised week after week. Smiles are raised as he secretes a haze of complimentary phrases like how pretty my face is.
I’m unfazed.
Those words are for the birds, tweet tweet! Only passion backed with action can jumpstart my heart’s beat beat. He needs to take a seat.
Over there. I simply cannot bear Mad Hattery disguised as devoutised flattery. If he really wants to flatter me, he needs to use his mouth differently.
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Hot and Bothered, but Not In the Sexy Way...(don't take too seriously, written mostly for fun)
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Posted:Jan 27, 2011 12:13 pm
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2013 3:29 pm
7354 Views
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Sometimes I just want to throw some shit.
Or better yet, destroy it. Turn into that old cliché of the jealous bitch who can’t be kept at bay when her man decides to go astray. Too bad for his Chevrolet. Ha. It’s time for a metal filet. Mignon. So long!
But why stop at a vehicle? From the window to the wall, I’ll have a brawl and demolish it all. See, he really dropped the ball and I’m beyond appalled. His so-called love was about as legit as O.J.’s glove and I damn sure won’t acquit. I’m havin’ my fit.
And as he discovers his indiscretions were the source of my aggressions he has the nerve to ask me 21 questions. Like he went and turned into 50 Cent. And so my final dissent would be quite a bit ugly as I spoke rather smugly, “I will love you in a Bentley. I will love you on a bus. But I sure as hell won’t love you if your dick’s in some trick’s puss.”
Of course I lied. Because I still do.
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Twinkle, Twinkle
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Posted:Jan 10, 2011 4:50 pm
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2013 3:31 pm
7388 Views
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My name’s not Stella, I don’t need to get my groove back. And ain’t no fella gonna cause me a heart attack. I’m fly enough to stay off the ground, can’t bring me down, my smile will always resound. In fact you may wanna make a contract with NASA and rent yourself a plasma spaceship. Roundtrip. See I’m a star, so wish upon me. Infinity is nowhere beyond me. And that’s the truth, honesty.
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A Note to My Man...
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Posted:Jan 5, 2011 5:32 pm
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2013 3:29 pm
7364 Views
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You were looking good today, wearing all that black and gray. I don’t mean to be pervy when I say that I can’t stop thinking about a display of foreplay. You can spread me out like a tray and help yourself to an all you can eat personal buffet.
Oooh, I call foul play! I’m sorry my mind seems to have gone astray. I want to get overtly flirty and maybe a lil’ bit dirty until three-thirty in the mornin’! Oh man…
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Word Up (non sexual)
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Posted:Jan 4, 2011 4:55 pm
Last Updated:Jan 5, 2011 9:45 am
7826 Views
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My name is Jenny, but I don’t come from the block. It was more like a cul-de-sac , and I always kept my bike out back. As you can see, I’m about as hood as the top of my jacket. Yet, I want to be a rapper and cause all the racket. Like Lil’ Kim, I want to be the queen. I want to learn how to effectively do the shoulder lean. Then pull up a chair so I can rock wit’ it. Take me to Times Square so I can transmit what I spit and count down to the brand new year and shit. Then when I'm on the scene doing my thing you'll need to call the police 'cause I'll be too obscene. Don’t care to be seen but I must be heard and that has spurred these absurdeous words.
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Verse 1
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Posted:Dec 28, 2010 8:19 am
Last Updated:Dec 31, 2010 6:33 am
7916 Views
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I’m like a Kit Kat; break me off. Take more than just a piece of that and eat it from front to back. Ha, that is amply nasty. Your girly be thinking sextastically. Oohh…so badly. You might just need to spank me. Rapidly. Then take me. To infinity…and beyond that to climax. Cum, cum. Have a feast on this yum, yum.
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Rummage Sale
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Posted:Nov 27, 2010 8:03 am
Last Updated:Dec 31, 2010 6:33 am
7788 Views
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I sit on the sofa. He’s rummaging in the kitchen. I must admit I only wish he’d come and rummage me. Voraciously. Again and again…and again.
I fantasize about feeling his hands parting my thighs. And I realize I’m not Martin Luther King, but I have my own fucking dream. Screaming, streaming in whipped cream. Gleaming in handcuffs, ropes, and ties. Criminalized.
I want him to kiss me. Really kiss me. Deeply. Then take me. Overall, I just want to be his sexy slave thing. I’ll make him my king…I’d do anything. Maybe I’m just too willing.
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When I Inadvertently Dated a "Celebrity"
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Posted:Nov 14, 2010 7:37 pm
Last Updated:Nov 22, 2010 1:34 pm
7661 Views
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I didn’t know I was dating Bill Clinton. His gray hair, his thick southern accent, his…scent should have been a hint.
He told me all the blah-blah-dee-dah shit and I believed every bit.
Later, he swore that he did not chat with that woman…on the internet. He swore he never gave his number to that 18-year old brunette. He swore that I had no reason to frit or fret.
It was when my suspicion grew out of my intuition that I knew. And I began my investigation in his extra-relational flirtation. I saw what I saw. His only defense was that my vision was hazy. And later, he said I was just another crazy. Bitch.
And I believed him until reality really hit the fan. I contacted her and her and her. It was more than I had inferred. It turns out he gave hers more than his number.
I could not huff and I would not puff. But I did blow his fuckin’ house down.
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Boob Reality
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Posted:Nov 9, 2010 6:01 pm
Last Updated:Jan 31, 2011 1:24 pm
8395 Views
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My boobs aren’t bounteous, bouncy, buoyant, or boluminous. They don’t bump or bulge. There’s really not a lot of hump lumped there to indulge.
And that is why I wear an underwire in my brassiere.
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Woah/Woe
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Posted:Aug 24, 2010 6:59 pm
Last Updated:Nov 3, 2010 2:14 pm
7877 Views
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He calls her beautiful
He calls her pretty
He calls her on the phone
But her’s not me.
He be creepin’
Sneakin’
Virtual freakin’
Free man?
Fuck him.
I ain’t even sleepin’
Damn.
I’m over this weepin’.
I’m ‘bout to make this thing
End.
But I still love him.
Come again?
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To link to this blog (aphroditelovey) use [blog aphroditelovey] in your messages.
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