Baby You’re My Kryptonite

Last modified on 2009-11-16 16:43:54 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

I also blog for a super sexy site called The Kink Chronicles. This is one of my most favorite posts..enjoy

“But Bliss what’s the problem,” was her usual retort to my screw-faced expression. Then I smile to the familiar question then she tilts my head down, bats her mascara extended laces, and closes our exchange with a crooked full-lipped smile. Although we’ve engaged in this exchange more than a hundred times it still gets me each time. This chick is my kryptonite. Like most Saturday nights in Philly everyone was gearing up to head to Palmer’s Night Club. The local hip-hop station broadcast’s live from the three story converted night club and the line was guaranteed to be wrapped around the building filled with eager niggas and bitches looking to get their slow grind on in the club. Ms. Krypto and myself were no different and we waited in line with the masses in our hot mama dresses and fuck me pumps flirting with all the sexy people around us. The attention we attract when we head out together was always a turn on and something I grew to accept and love in our relationship. Knowing my mate was desired by all that caught a whiff of her sweet signature scent was enough to make my panties wet. So we head inside, do coat check and make a B-line to the bar. I get us some drinks and we post up in a secluded corner on the second floor. “So Bliss you feeling freaky,” her crooked full-lipped smile whispered in my ear as trails of hypnotic tickled my nose. Trying to be strong and keep our playful cat and mouse game going I casually respond, “No not really I’m trying to get into my drink first and peep the scene.” I guess that was the wrong answer cause Ms. Krypto had other plans for our evening. She sashayed from our private corner and started to walk towards the center of the dance floor. Her compact 5” frame was really killing it. With each step her booty seemed to tremble for five seconds after and I was sucked into the soft sway of her full hips. Her joint Jacki-O’s Damn was blasting from the speakers and the DJ mixed in right at her favorite part; Damn that Bitch is fine, Damn that Bitch is fine, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, …… and needless to say her ass was flopping. Her dress started to ride her hips and with every other Jackie she was bent over a little more and rotating her hips a little harder and it could’ve been the light but I’m sure I caught a peek of her jewel encrusted boy-shorts. Her eyes were closed and she started rubbing her manicured nails along the length of her torso and I couldn’t help but put my misbehaving clit in a chokehold by squeezing my thighs together. As I was approaching her on the dance floor a tall dark and handsome brother beat me to the punch and I decided to resume my position in the corner and enjoy the show. Ms. Krypto knew I enjoyed voyeurism and she didn’t disappoint. She did a quick two- step allowing her to face me front and on all the while, her unknowing dance partner tired to keep up with her groove. Like the vixen she is, she pierced her lips and seductively opened her eyes and stared me down as she performed her sensual dance. I leaned deeper into the shadows and started to massage my nipples. They were busting through the fabric of my slinky dress and I couldn’t tease them any longer. In the moment I took my eyes off of her, Ms. Krypto and her partner were making there way too my corner and I think a Ms. Krypto sandwich was on the menu. Her crooked-lipped smile was home to an even more menacing giggle. When the giggle escaped to my ears, her lips chased behind and landed at the base of my neck. At 5’4” and in 5-inch heels I towered over her just like I liked it. “You still just wanna finish your drink,” she teased; I tossed my half drunken cocktail in the over following bin to the left, and used a lock of her following tresses to close the gap between us. She was a glutton for rough play and her widening grin was an indication she was enjoying herself. “Nope I’m done with the drunk and now I wanna taste of you,” I coolly replied in my best big poppa voice. I could taste the sweet fusion of alcohol, lip gloss, and lust long before I kissed her. With each passing second our kiss got more intense and the sights and sounds of our surroundings seemed to fade away. As her smooth tongue danced in my mouth, I sucked harder and deeper on her full bottom lip. All I could hear was the slapping sound our mouths made and her feverous whimpers of enjoyment. With her tresses still wrapped around my finger I pulled her head back deepening the kiss and my left hand made its way to her full round butt. I used my strength to force her closer to my body and I enjoyed the friction of my pussy brushing her stomach; she bit down on my lip signifying she also found pleasure in the foreplay. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Handsome hungrily relishing in our exchange, waiting for an opening but not daring to approach. Ms. Krypto used her free hands to loosen the ties on my dress and exposed my full throbbing breast. This type of exhibition was something I would never do but I was too lost in the moment to care. I allowed her to taunt the peaks of nipples and I abruptly broke our kiss to force her juicy mouth to my now erect nipple. She began with my most favorite torture a firm suck enveloping the full nipple followed by a cavernous bite sending jolts of pain and pleasure shooting all through my body. I kid you not, I came right the fuck there in the club! My pussy exploded like Mt. Saint Helen and the fiery lava was following right down my trembling thighs and pooling at my feet. I let out a soft moan and tossed my head back allowing the feeling to take hold of my body. I rode the wave. My baby used her finger to catch a few drippings of my juices and gave her finger a nice NASTY suck. Once I opened my eyes and regained my senses I was totally surprised at what I allowed to go down. She saw my discomfort and when I looked up Mr. Handsome he still had his hand over his mouth and his body language screamed “Shock”! I didn’t bother going to the bathroom to clean up, Ms. Krypto took my hand and lead me out the club and back to my car. Soon after this freaky exchange she and I broke up and I moved my ass to Florida. Palmers will forever hold a special please in my heart and I secretly can’t wait to go back and see if I made a stain on the rug. Lmao!

Do you have a sex location that you will always hold dear?

An Exploration into The Laws Of Attraction: Stud Love

Last modified on 2009-07-28 05:26:54 GMT. 3 comments. Top.

I also blog for a super sexy site called The Kink Chronicles. This is one of my most favorite posts..enjoy

I’m from Philly. Now Philly is no South Florida by any stretch of the imagination but within the realm of social interactions, Philly has this place beat. From the moment I stepped on the tarmac I’ve been crippled with regret.

Amongst the filth and constant construction of Philly lies a truly urban city. You get the hustle and bustle of a metropolis coupled with the personality of ethnically and culturally diverse neighborhoods. As a true urbanite I walked the streets, rode the bus, biked to work and enjoyed constant human interaction. Although most women don’t walk around waving their gay flags, I had opportunities to meet people and strike up a conversation during my daily travels. These opportunities made dating easier back home. I spent little time online trolling message boards or bogus clubs looking for love.

My search for a solider has been fruitless because the pickings are so very slim in the 954. First off the people are rude here. On the rare occasion you are walking in the street you’re greeted with lowered heads and strange stares. It may be the company I keep or the places I frequent but the quality of the people I meet on the scene just isn’t good. I’m not searching for a Ph.D but at least have a GED. I’ve always heard that the south is late on pop culture trends and that couldn’t be more evident than with the women I meet here. They are still wearing extra baggy clothes or the rock star gear and it’s simply depressing.

Fresh from a break-up I ventured with my posse of tri-sexuals to this gay dive bar Jay’s. It was their first time and I warned them of the fuckery that was sure to ensue. As I prepared for a night of “wassup mah” and “you looking real fly wit that baldhead,” I was also prepared to be open to whatever or whoever drifted my way. I won’t spill all the beans about the trip Sheba, Pink and I took into the deep swallows of the Ft. Lauderdale Black Lesbian social scene, but let’s just say I fear that these women are bi and bi-curious no longer…it was that tragic.

Midway through the night, as I was loosing myself in Sheba’s mind altering alcoholic brew, and I tried to convince both them and myself that there is hope. We were posted up looking like three fly chicks with attitude when our conversation drifted into the “benefits” of dating a stud.

Stud is a term for a butch female commonly used by black lesbians. Being a stud has less to do with clothing than it does with a state of mind. For lack of a cliché studs have a swagger. A tasty infusion of style, personality, bravado and chutzpah that makes them desired by many lesbians and envied by others who lack the qualities.

I used to believe that if I was going to be a lesbian I wanted to be with a woman who looked and acted like a woman; mainly because it was easier to hide amongst the masses, but more so because that stud shit wasn’t cute. I could appreciate what studs had to offer but I could never understand why they didn’t want to celebrate their womanhood. You have a fat ass, sexy hips, beautiful skin, athletic bodies and you want to deny the world your splendor? I simply couldn’t get it.

Over time I’ve had the opportunity to befriend a few studs and both my feelings and their appeal changed. Now I know they are simply misunderstood. We can get into the science behind gender identity and chemical imbalances, but my main observation is that their lifestyle isn’t a choice or trend – it’s what comes natural to them.  I’ve experienced posers and people who are "extra" but I’m convinced that if you give a stud a chance, a true stud will have you like Jerry Maguire “at hello.”

Being with a stud gives me a sense of security and strength I’ve never been able to find with a femme. In my experience, studs tend to be more masculine and often assume a dominant role in the relationship, acting as the provider and protector. And to top it off they "look good in them jeans." Moreover, studs make great lovers. In comparison to femmes, studs aim to please at all costs and similar to a man, an unsatisfied customer is an ego bruiser.

There are some draw backs. Most hardcore studs like to be referred to with masculine pronouns, which is hard to get used to but some women accommodate. Some have body issues and resort to taping of their breasts and growing facial hair, even taking hormones. These types of extremes have less to do with being gay and more to do with emotional and sexual issues. And to my disbelief some studs don’t want their woman to touch or please them during physical interaction, i.e. sucking their nipples or oral sex and in these situations penetration is surely out the question.

I’ve been asked, "If you’re attracted to the manly qualities of a stud why not be with a man?" Well naysayers it’s deeper than that. Dating a stud is the best of both worlds.

Yes, my girl looks good in her Sean John or a suit but when she peels them off, I feel like Johnny Gill ("My, My, My"), the physique is there. Have you ever seen a fat ass and full hips in a pair of boxers briefs!? Because my woman is in touch with her masculine and feminine emotions I get an unfathomable emotional understanding I can’t find with a man. She’s chivalrous, understands PMS, and can buss another bitch’s ass if she steps out of line.

A pretti boi loves to please my body. She appreciates my imperfections and praises my sexiness. She is skilled with her hands, tongue, toys and strip, a true master of her craft. It’s not about lying on your back and getting your pussy eaten. A stud is all about pleasing her woman, putting in work and making sure the job is done straight Malcolm style, by any means necessary.

At the end of the day who you fall in love with can’t be controlled, but cutting off an entire sector of the lesbian community can truthfully hinder the process. Don’t you wanna be happy…

Ever been convinced to try something new and liked it?