Im sitting by my window listening to Al Green song “For the Good Times”… And I could feel the sweet pain in the words. “Make Believe you love me”, he sings… How many of us would rather make believe we are loved just to have the closeness, that pleasure of a skilled lover. I’ve even been told to just ‘Enjoy the Moment”. But they never tell you that you’re on your own when you get up from the bed… SO many of us make deals with the devil. Promising to tend to the logic of the situation after the last thrust of a throbbing penis pounding our slippery walls.
You know you have to wake up to the reality of what this thang is, but your ego tells your vagina that it’s sugary goodness could change your fate. So many of us get caught up and crossed wires thinking that sexual chemistry equates to some sort of cosmic bond. A good dick can confuse you for sure. But its the hours on your feet, with your panties still attached that let you know what real.
When a person is not in ecstasy but still takes your hand and rocks you slow. When he calls to check if you made it home and talks about future plans with you then you know its not just that you can make him cum hard or that he hits your spot. Sometimes someone could fuck the shit out of you as a way of ‘trying’ to forget someone else. Sometimes your snatch is being slam ducked because you were the only one that answered your damn phone at 1 a.m.
Sex can be therapy indeed, but I’m not partial to being choochie medication for a man. I don’t want to be a cum dumpster for stress and strain of life. I want a happy man on top of me every time. I want my pussy to be a celebration of good fortune and love. I think that is why don’t think recent sex brings people closer together.