You ever just need your back blown out?
Edges sweated through?
Legs spread across continents?
Nails broken from gripping skin?
Neighbors reporting you to management the next morning?
Waking up sore in places with fresh bruises?
You ever just need to be dicked down?
Me, too, girl. Me, too.
Y’all can expound on the benefits and pleasure of Prozac, a bottle of wine, laughter with your girls, binging Netflix, chocolate, etc…
There is no cure for stress as effectual as good D.
There is no substitute for feeling strokes that touch your womb and lips that travel…EVERYWHERE.
There is no consolation prize for having a man handle your body like he double-majored in it.
Nothing qualifies as relief as exceedingly as a man feasting his way through your Louisiana sugar plantation and quenching his thirst at the mouth of your mighty Mississippi.
A man leaving you physically spent in bed but taking your soul with him.
Sometimes…the only panacea is for someone to fuck the education/attitude/mental capability out of you and render you certifiable.
And I haven’t been intellectually ruined in a minute.
Y’all pray this weekend is good to me.
Weekend Mood: Raheem Devaughn – Black Ice Cream (Love it when you cream/ Love the way you scream/ Get all up in my ear baby and tell me I’m your king 😍)