The First Lady: Sex, Baptism, & Friends

church-womanI walk and vision a companion, she notices my gaze. My attention engages her blouse, a rosy flower gown top, her bubbly breast tight, nipples stiff. We have done this before and often, her husband, the reverend provided our lead in. His Black ass running around chasing hookers and improvised church women. I developed my pleasures for the First Lady on the other side of town. She visits the children’s shelter often, her dark brown bottom unmarked and motionless. I am not shy nor apprehensive on my engagement; I’m living in what was prepared. Yet, I fear, she possesses my secrets, special movements, and excitement with others.

Many men fear to engage the First Lady, not me, she wants love and dirty sex. I sit two rolls back, stroking my thigh, staring into memories, our memories, our fifthly desires. She plays an open game of hide and seek, I fall for it, I accept the cookie and juice offering. She glances at a friend worshiper; my heart anticipates our secret is known. Yet, we never considered the holy church for an escapade with her friend.  Fred Hammond drowns out my private desires, The First Lady, and friend, hmm. Is it possible? Hell, yeacross? Is it, right?

You damn right! Their Black sorority or whatever got ‘em working out like this, now bring that thang over here, wet, real wet. My shaft is restless, staring at both, brown and light-skinned, you feel me. My thrust soaks up the fluids from their Wonder Caves. Both involves themselves as I place the proper music tone, I’m allowed to watch, as both, show me what Holy is about. The First Lady’s eyes go toward the ceiling, her streams flow smoothly like Sade’s beats. There’s never a need for loud sounds, we keep it down, and pass the movement around. The pastors and friends none the wise, it’s going down around town.

*****
I am lost in their passion, they absorb my desires, intimidating but soothing. Her friend’s fingers guiding my boyish hands to snatch her nimble. I am lost, help me, it is intimidating but soothing. Silence again takes my potency and caress the spirit, both spirit unbeknownst before this deliberate seduction. Their hips lay me down, a speechless heroin of a thousand lovers seduces my fears, my fears are their Aphrodite she increases the First Lady’s device. Her friend’s purpose to extract my fantasies, I am soon exhausted by their vigor. In a trance, I vision two companions, neither lives with fear or sadness, we behave this way

 

Oh, yeah, we locked the church doors.

Robert a, Williams

A Love Bird’s Bench

loversI saw a beautiful bird fly by me today and I asked where she was going. Her voice covered with silk hidden by a peculiar smile said, “I’m going to fall in love with you today”. “This little bird understands nothing about love, at least not about the love of a strong independent man. Her wings fluttered and she whistled, “Do you love someone?” I replied with expedience, “Of course, I love a confident woman, her scent sequestered with confidence and breasts humming a melody especially for me. I’m a fussy lover little bird. My lover must show me everything. Her reservoir must have things in it I’ve never seen or taste.”

I saw a bird fly toward me today and sat beside me on a bench. ..I said “how are you”? The attractive feathered friend seemed puzzled and joyful from the encounter. “Why are you smiling I asked?” Her smirk unable to run and hide from her smile, her lips oozed with shyness. She spoke, ‘what kind of woman do you love?” I thought for a moment while my head filled my hands. Hmm…I love a sincere and hot woman. Her flesh tender to the touch yet sizzle when I kiss her privates. I want her to stab her nails into my back as my eyes descent upon her belly’s breathing rhythmic. My lover’s cramped smile says in any language, “Oh baby, you’re so good to me”

What you know about love, the bird says. “Hmm…a lot, I feel my lover in my imagination while she’s in the shower, I taste her before I see it. I’m not shy little bird. In fact, my heart says everything out loud; I’m a naughty boy with a glamorous mouth. My lover loves this, I can tell. Oh, how I talk about her body and my preferences. I have the wildest imagination. At times, I drain myself just from the touch of her pelvis on my chin. Sometimes…I bite my lip sometimes but it doesn’t hurt.  Bird, I love her until she breaks and I put her back together again for the next day.

I know about love birds…

The Invisible Dragon

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Monday’s Poem: Numb by Will J. Hobbs

fleeting

“Eyes wide open with my mind wide shut. Heart still beating with the blood flow ceased. Arms outstretched but my hands can’t feel. In the midst of a storm stark naked begging for the refreshing coolness of the rain the ease the burning of my ignorance. Pouring the water on my tongue hoping that it will quench this insatiable thirst to feel what so many others seem to experience.

Staring glazed over into a mirror hoping to become enlightened in my own self worth and existence. Searching for my way around a dark room feeling nothing but hoping to find a way out. Peeling away at my own flesh hoping to develop a new layer of sensation. Unaware of the concept of pain and incapable of understanding the affection of emotion.

Eyes wide open with my mind wide shut. Heart still beating but the blood flow has ceased. Arms outstretched but my hands can’t feel.

I am numb…”

By Will J. Hobbs

purple dragon

The Invisible Dragon

A Helpful Affair, The Video

Picture by Robert A. Williams

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ruby Wore Heels In Church

Her shapely stature cracked the air with each step from her southern cooked body. She was gorgeously tall and spoke with girlish shyness. Since young times Negroes and White men say something fine under her clothes. In Sutton, Mississippi most Negro women share physical similarities, but not with Ruby Granberry. Her nice physical collectibles caused Negro men to thirst and their women to drown in anger. However, when she came to church, women stared evil thinking toward her mightily. For when Ruby worshipped; she wore heels.

Many Negro residents of Sutton refused the move north when the getting was good for work. Believing their white God would send them good riches, they remained south defiantly; waiting. However their God kept quiet about helping them through the years. That’s when outside folks saw traces of religious craziness after help never came.

The Negro church folks would ‘shake and bake’ their bodies to obedience every Sunday. Good old Baptist gospel folks referred to it as. Luckily for Ruby she left long ago, albeit not to escape holy conversion by gospel crazies; no…she left in a hurry because her scent was being closed in upon.
***
On Fridays, 20 miles out at Bessie Milton’s junk joint, men thirsted for Ruby more than the cheap liquor. She was fine as can be to any man who can see with good eyes no less. Never minding however this was marriage country amongst black folks. Women like Ruby need ought to be married or receive the evil eye and run off by married women.

Notwithstanding Negro men were rascals in the small town of 2,000. Oft chasing young girls helping them find their bodies all the time. Sutton churchmen were no different. Their hands search young women’s bodies more than the collection plates, if you could figure that. Being smart however, hitched women knew, nothing raised a Negro churchman’s excitement more than a fine single young churchwoman; who’s figuring out her working parts.

Neverminding, one thing Mississippi folks get in a stir about is an insider who becomes an outsider. Negroes are just the same as White folks in this matter. The single, 20-years old, fair-skinned vixen was surely an outsider now being caught red-handed helping the pastor lose his sanctification. She must go — the good Negro folks of Sutton, Mississippi figured; more so the women than men obviously. Some gals even wishing her better dead than just gone up north. However the men were always blinded by her beauty, they did not want her to go.
***
That’s a main reason why the churchmen never paid attention to Ruby’s bad voice in the choir. Her perfectly carved figure clogged their already waxed ears anyhow. The only sounds they cared about was her physical one and she was loud no less. Desired like fine chocolate and fleeting as like cheap bubblegum to most men; she done always had a thing for pastors no less.

The new Negro minister done only had been there a few days already and his body burned like a pot belly stove with grits atop it. His thinking thoughts about Ruby are unable to be spoken to good folks. Let’s just say they were private and adult like.  It is no secret around Sutton, a young single attractive church gal like Ruby drives Negro men wild.

The young pastor of God was crazy feeling about her. In fact, he done tasted her every Friday in the barn on the Wilson’s old plantation land since two months ago starting. When those Sutton Negro women done found out about her playfulness, they sought to get rid of her. Never minding however… Ruby long figured her young body makes men playful…
Just ask the deacons at that old Negro church in Sutton, Mississippi…in 1955.

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Robert A. Williams