Purpose

Everyone has them.

You use them for a variety of things.

Yet you’ve never given thought to their necessity.

Words formed to convey feelings.

Pressing against others from time to time.

Enjoyable, yes. But not impactful.

Not life changing.

Yet.

But then you collide.

Hearts, souls, and minds.

And you never knew 

That two sets could match so exquisitely,

And you were destined to kiss frequently.

You then realize that her lips 

Have given your lips purpose.

Vision

I can look for hours

And admire the life in your eyes

I am both lost 

And found

I am someplace I’ve never been

And in the most comfortable place I’ve known

Know what I see?

There’s so much happening

I see you

The real you

I see hope

I see God

I see love

I see depth

I see thought

I see the sum of all your experiences

I see possibility 

There are a million more things there

Waiting for me to see them

Of Hypocrisy

  For me...there might not have been a more impactful statement made to me in my life. Made with complete respect. No malice involved.
  I had explained it all, best that I could. I’m terrible with sharing feelings, so I babbled my way through it. Did my best, given the amount of scotch already coursing through my veins.
  He took it in and formulated his response. Thoughtful and well spoken. And then he ended with the following;
  “That’s not the Mark Youngblood I know.”
  Holy. Shit.
   If you know me very well you’ll know I despise hypocrisy. I knew that that’s exactly what I was doing. I think I even said I was aware of it. But then for him to say it out loud...for me to hear...now knowing others saw it, too...I could actually feel the sentence drift down and kick my soul. How can I preach that I hate it, teach my kids that it’s utterly gross, and then outright live it?? How dare I?!
  Commence shame spiral.
  I’ve felt bad enough for long enough. Shame spiral certainly didn’t feel great, but it probably needed to happen. If you’ve bottomed out...reached the absolute impenetrable floor...then you can only go up.
  Go. Fucking. Up.
  Quit wishing. Quit hoping. Quit waiting.
  Do it yourself.

A lifetime of thanks to Landry Griffith. Wise beyond your years.

What if it’s true?

What if it’s true?
The things your brain tells you
The doubt and angst swirling
The fog and haze of self loathing
You were important
Other things matter more
They deserve so much better

What if it’s true?
The things your brain tells you
Maybe it could be better
Try something new
Something has to change
It’s going to kill you
You deserve so much better

What if it’s true?
The things your brain tells you
You can only be you
You matter
Things will only get better
You can find it
And it will find you, too

Hiding

Hurry

Hurry and take me home

So I can feel

Your skin 

On my skin 

Your hair becomes my shelter

As it falls around my face

My breath 

In your neck

Telling secrets 

Only your hips will hear

Learning 

Curving 

Thighs embraced 

Outlines traced

With fingertips and whispers

Unnecessary

When you can’t reach them

When it’s all changed 

It’s not a puzzle, because there’s nothing to solve

You’ve become unnecessary 

When they can’t describe what it is

Because there’s nothing to describe

It disappeared in a fog of selfishness

You’ve become unnecessary 

You try to explain

You try to show

Favors and notes and declarations go unnoticed

Effort is unnecessary 

Fill the void with indifference 

Replace the nothingness with hate

Lash out in the worst of ways

It's all become unnecessary

Word Boners- ADULT CONTENT

Word boners

  "You're a word slut...I just used one of your favorites three times...if that doesn't make you hot, nothing will." he professed.

  "I get turned around easily...you think it's cute." she snapped back as she pursed her lips.

  Trying to get her to engage fully, he asked, "Do you have any favorite words? Like ones that sound funny or are hard for other people to say..."

  "Yes!" she exclaimed. "But they don't come to mind."

  He sighs and rolls his eyes.

  "Three that come to mind are "I'll cut you," she retorted as she squinted.

  He winked.

  Realizing he wanted a real answer she said, "Oy...Totes...Adorbs with an S, not a Z because that's ridiculous...Yes, Sir...Feel."

  "Yes, Sir" made and arching wave in the space in his stomach.

  "Machu Picchu, callipygous, chupacabra, exsanguish..." in a loud voice, as if he was implying that he had just won this competition.

  Her eyes widened and an uneasy look came over her after the last one. He furrowed his brow to remind her that it was merely a word, not a threat.

  Warming up to the challenge she dropped, "Dabble."

  "Finagle," he shot back.

  Her Texan started to show..."Sesquicentennial."

  He stood up and advanced towards her, realizing that she had taken the lead.  Taking two steps forward he raised an eyebrow with a "now what?" fashion and said, "Discombobulate."

  She now rises, also, and backs away two steps only to find the wall has stopped her.  She's reluctant to turn her head to find an alternate route. Losing sight of him could mean trouble, knowing he likes to chase.  With her hands now twisted nervously in her shirt tail she says, "Ogle," with a hint of her own eyebrow.

  A wry grin peeks out of his beard.  He slowly advances two more steps.  She's now within arm's reach, but he doesn't extend.

  She takes in a breath during the course of, "Obfuscate," and holds it.

  Locking his gaze on her, he mutters "Sesquipedalian," through the grin.  She can feel the resonance in his chest as he finishes his word as its now pressed against hers.  She begins to moderate the exhale and tells him, "I've actually used that word before."

  He now leans his body weight into her against the wall.  His lips graze against her neck, up to her ear where he growls, "You're fucking hot," emphasizing the "f" sound.

  Her breathing has escalated.  "No, you..." she puffs. At the bottom of an exhale she squeezes out, "Didactic."

  He deeply breathes in her scent. At the space where her ear and her jaw meet, he exhales, "Phallic," highlighting the consonant sounds.

  His thumbs hook through the belt loops on her jeans.  Ratcheting them in his fists, he begins to push her waist to the wall.  Her hands slide up his chest to his face.  She runs her fingers through his beard and whispers, "Orifices."

  The fist ratchets release and unbutton her jeans.  He slides the waistband down over her curves and she steps out of them.  Panties follow, only much less patiently.  Unbuckling his own belt and jeans for fear of their faces losing contact, he sucks her bottom lip and presses his raging cock against her wetness...releasing her lip, through gnashed teeth he pushes forth a resonating "engorged."

  Raising on leg around his hip, she pulls him in and feels him push inside of her.  She mutters, "engulf."

  His hand squeezes the ass cheek of her raised leg. "Thrusting," he murmurs, as he begins to lift her with each push.  She continues to keep his face pulled against hers and buries her lips in his ear..."liberate!"  She squeezes every available muscle as he raises her clear from the floor. 

  Feeling each other's continuing contractions as they grin, nose to nose, she mutters, "Fuck."

  "That's THE word," he replied. "You win."

Fingers (ADULT CONTENT)

Fingers

  She tore the package open as soon as it arrived.  The corset she ordered had taken weeks to arrive and she was eager to put it on and show off for him.

  "Oh my Lord, hurry up! I wanna see it, too," he spouted off in her direction.

  "I'm working on it!" she quipped back.  Sliding in and cinching up...stepping into the panties that matched..then strutting down the hallway in his direction.

  She hit the end of the hallway and teased with her pose....leaning against the wall on her raised arm, other hand on her hip after a less-than-casual toss of her hair.

  "Should I send it back?" she jokingly asked.

  "You fucking better not!" he shot back.  Clearly enticed by the game she was playing, he stepped into her space...chest to chest, sharing breaths. His arm reached around her waist and he landed a solid smack on her ass cheek.  Leaving his hand in place, he squeezed and pulled her fully against him.

  "Only one smack? There's usually more than that. Maybe it's not as effective as I thought," she teased.  Completely aware of the bulge she could feel pressed against her, she knew otherwise.

  "That hand hasn't left yet...maybe it's not finished."

  His lips now grazed past hers, not once but twice.  Hand still squeezing her flesh through her panties, he drug his stubble along her cheek.  As his lips made their way to her ear, somewhere between a whisper and a growl, he declared, "there's a new rule in this game"...hesitation...."you can't"...another hesitation, his hand now manipulating the curve of her ass..."kissss meeee."

  Elongating the syllables as he drug his cheek against hers, he steered his lips back towards hers.  She immediately tried to test boundaries and stretched her lips out to meet his. "No," he said as he leaned back just out of reach.  The hand occupied with her ass began to drift. His large fingers caressing, the middle one settled just in the crevice where her thigh met her cheek, and it wrapped like a snake in the direction of her warmth.  His off hand went to her neck, grasping the back of it and now pulling her to the point where their lips touched. 

  She inhaled with anticipation. All he did was graze them...slowly sweeping back and forth...then taking her bottom lip gently between his own, just to the point where they stick slightly.  Almost a peck, but not quite.  

  His fingers now pressing against her pussy outside of her panties, he felt how wet she had become. Index finger sliding just inside them, brushing against her flesh. That finger now prying them back, allowing the middle finger to trace along the lips. He extended it, circling her clit.

  He nibbles her chin, neck firmly in hand.  From her chin to her jaw...jaw to her ear...stubble grinding..."Now,"  he snarled, "I'm going...."...hesitation as his lips made it back to hers.  Her eyes locked in his as he re-centered...his mouth a whisper from hers..."to fuck"...hitting the "k" sound strong..."you with my fingers."  He tried to utter the words to her soul, using her eyes as the doorway to get there.

  Clearly she concurred, as she relinquished her weight into him.  The hand on her neck slid up into her hair and grasped all it could.  As he spun her around his hand left her pussy and went to her neck. Her hands grasped his wrist as he planted her on her back in the couch.  The hand full of hair slid between two cushions making her head lean back farther than it would have otherwise. He takes his hand from her neck and puts his middle and ring fingers in her mouth, she still clutching his wrist.  The palm of his hand pushes her chin closed and he tells her, "Suck."  She abides, tasting her own juices and swirling her tongue around them with as much spit as she can generate.

  Satisfied, he drags his fingers out of her mouth and down her chin, leaving a trail of drool.  That hand yanks down her panties as she wiggles to assist.  They manage to get them to her ankles and she pulls on leg out, leaving them dangling on the other foot.  He pushes that foot up on the back of the couch and then slaps her pussy, moistened fingers remaining in place, palm resting on her clit.  The hand in her hair pulls her head down, craning her neck, as he sinks his fingers inside.

  She gasped as she inhaled.  He pushed far. And left them buried deep. Then he began to massage her insides with the tips.

  "Make sure to ask," he reminded her as she exhaled with a guttural moan.

  He slid his fingers all the way out, then shoved them back in.  Twice more. The second time they stayed and he began to wiggle his whole hand profusely.

  "PLEEEASE," she squeaked.  Hand wiggling and hair yanked, he put his lips to hers and said, "Do it now, cum for me."

  As he felt the muscles in her stomach and pelvis contract, he planted his mouth on hers and tried to suck the life from her chest.  His hand filled with hot ejaculate as he continued to wiggle.  Kiss shared as both of his hands relaxed.  He drug the messy hand up her corset and put the fingers between their lips.  They shared tongues, fingers, juices, and souls.

If It Quacks Like a Duck

  I haven’t written in a while. Only thing I can think of as a reason would be my involvement in my painting. If you know me or follow me you’ll know I’ve done A LOT over the last 3-4 months. So, I guess my creative energy is being channeled into that.
  And if you know me very well, you’ll know I absolutely hate labels. I don’t like labeling you and I sure as hell don’t want you trying to label me. I don’t even like labeling myself. I think labels of any kind put barriers on things. If you’re “X” then that means you can’t be “Y.” Forget that. You can call me X, but then I’m gonna Y AND Z. Probably not for a reason. Mostly just to prove you wrong.
  I say all of that to get to this story. I stopped in Michael’s Friday night to get some paint to start a new project. I grab what I need and jump in a rather busy line. There was an older couple in front of me chit-chatting the folks around them. As we approached the counter the gentleman moved a stack of 5-6 canvases and I asked if the stack was his. He chuckled and said no, he didn’t paint anymore. Unusual for me, I engaged further and said that this was my second trip to that store that day and I had purchased an even bigger stack earlier. The lady then joined in having heard my statement and drew the following conclusion; “So you must be an artist then?”
  I didn’t have an immediate response.
  I sort of stuttered and finally came up with “Well, I paint a lot,” and laughed.
  Am I an artist? I’ve never called myself that. I couldn’t bring myself to answer a pretty harmless question. I’ve always thought of an “artist” as someone who created something unique that other people enjoy experiencing. An artist could come up with a creative idea on their own or take a suggestion and formulate that into a project. Artists create things that other people are willing to pay for to own.
  Why couldn’t I bring myself to answer, “yes, I am”...?