Pleasure Principle

I rarely ever do anything I don’t want to do. I live in my own world and blaze my own trail. I get judged a lot for this. I am the daughter that will suggest drinking mimosas for breakfast, wine with lunch, champagne with dinner, and encourage my mother to sex it up a little with her wardrobe. I am the auntie that buys my nieces miniature boots that look like my own over the knee ones and allow them to play in my hair when it’s straightened. When they see me they automatically ask for lip gloss. I am the mother that freely allows my sons to find and follow their own bliss without too many restrictions. I only command that they be respectful polite gentlemen, open doors, carry in heavy boxes/groceries, etc., try their best, omit the word ‘can’t’ from their vocabulary, and think for themselves. My boys think I am fun, bubbly, and sometimes mean. I can live with that. Because of my freeness, I have the desire to neither lead nor follow. I am content doing my own thing.


I was watching “This Christmas” with my mother the other night, and she said Sharon Leal’s character, Kelly, reminded her of me. She also says the same thing about Kim Kardashian. *rolls eyes* Anyway, there is a scene where Kelly meets a guy out at a bar with a few of her siblings. The guy is a former friend of her elder brother that she doesn’t technically know. She ended up leaving her siblings at the club and leaving with the guy. The next morning she tried sneaking into the family home with her boots in her hands after having spent the night with the guy from the bar. My mother said, “That would be you. You even dress like her and have that ‘I don’t care’ attitude. You would be trying to sneak in like no one would know where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.” Her comment initially made me feel like a whore, but then I realized I am just bold enough to do what makes me happy.

My sister graduated last week. To celebrate we went out to dinner and later she decided she wanted to hit up a lounge. My honey caramel complexioned muse that I have recently started kicking it with was already at the lounge when we got there. He was bored and was only waiting there for me because I was close and wanted to see him. I introduced him to my sister; he said he was leaving but I was more than welcome to come along. For me, he was the better option. My sister was a little miffed I left her, but she was getting what she needed from sources other than me. She was in good hands surrounded by her husband and their married friends.

For that moment in time I knew being with Mr. HC Muse would make me happy. Not just because he’s 6’3, handsome, intelligent, and incredibly sexy. He had what I needed, wanted, and craved. I needed his attention and adoration of my gi-normous hair and imperfect body. The fact that he noticed and liked my attire and shoes was an added bonus. I needed to straddle his lap and lavish him with kisses. I live for affection, and he doesn’t seem to mind. I needed to feel wanted, to giggle, and to be free to freely allow him to bask in my femininity as I consumed and reveled in his gentlemanly masculinity. I craved his kisses, answers to my many unending random questions, his softness, warmth, easy going nature, and his ability to make me feel like a modern day damsel with his natural chivalrous acts of old.

He pulled out his camera and started taking random pictures of me while I continued to straddle his lap. I needed that, too. I needed everything he offered and agreed to that night simply because it made me happy. I have no regrets. I hope he got a strong dosage of his own kind of happiness as he indulged in me living out The Pleasure Principle.

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