New Blog Post! Introducing the series, "I'LL TOUCH MYSELF IF I WANT TO"

So, here’s the thing. I am a sexual being. I submit absolutely no apologies for this fact. I encourage you to proceed only if you are comfortable with the notion. I’ll be brief, but I can’t promise I’ll be conservative.

To paint a picture for you, I am a 32 year old, legally and socially single, black BBW female. I am 5’ 7”, big breasted, thick-thighed, and juicy-assed and wouldn’t be caught dead without a pair of 4+ inch stilettos comforting my sole.


Let me break this down a little more for you. By BBW, I don’t mean those slim-waisted, scaled up versions of an hourglass with pound cakes. I mean on average, my weight fluctuates between 315 and 340 pounds.


By big breasted, I mean it requires a size 44G cup to fully support the girls without unnecessary back pain.


Those stilettos I rock are a size 11. To sum up, I am one of those well-rounded silhouettes that will test a guy’s manhood and make a woman a tad uncomfortable (for reasons we will discuss later).


To detract a little from the visual, I will add that I have the temperament of a Scorpion and the demeanor of a professional woman accustomed to getting what she wants and working to actualize her dreams.


What this all translates to is a damn confident woman, audacious in her expression, comfortable in her body, and at one with her sexuality; which brings us to the topic at hand.


For any number of reasons, those within and out of my control, dependent on personal, societal, spiritual, and other circumstances, sex in the traditional sense is not always a feasible undertaking.


Today, sex can be defined in rather broad terms. In this particular instance however, I will define sex as the act of any sexually tactile interaction, up to and including intercourse involving another individual.


So, more to the point.. it isn’t always the easiest or wisest idea to engage another party for the purpose of getting my rocks off. There are a number of ways to tackle this issue of course: celibacy, abstinence, throwing caution to the wind and calling up the wrong one with the right merchandise anyway, or taking care of business my damn self!


Let me put it this way, as a heterosexual woman, between having personal standards, inherently outnumbering men, outliving men, the incarceration of men, the general emasculation of men, the diversified sexuality of men, and just plain old being more man than some men, the pickings are slim. So, all that said, you know what?


I’ll touch myself if, how, where, when and with what I want to!
I wrote this piece 5 years ago in a moment of liberating frustration. It poured out onto a beat up black and white book I carried with me all the time for chronicling my life experiences.  I picked it up this weekend after a friend confessed over the phone, how sexually frustrated she was.


I felt every ounce of the 'at wit's end' energy she exuded, and it reminded me of a time when I was equally exhausted with the little box it feels we are forced to squeeze ourselves into.  It reminded me of this piece I started writing all those months ago.  It's equal parts comforting and empowering to me that these words remain as true, if not more true today.


If you're still reading.. thank you for consuming this first installment in a series that will be part me and partly the voices of the women I've encountered who have learned to say, 🖕🏽 that box, I'm free!


I'll be posting for as long as the stories flow.
If you find yourself inspired to share your own Wild Thoughts, I invite you to click here to submit your anonymous submission. 

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