Creative Writing #72

Already her first day of the job, the Photographer told this sexy, ebony beauty to take off her clothes, but “leave the panties on.” So she did. Clothes off, pink panties on. Then to make the erotic photo shoot really sexy, the Photographer told the Model to “place your hands inside your panties and play with your kitty.” So she did. She placed her let hands inside her panties to play with her kitty and to make it a little extra sexy; she put her pinky finger inside her mouth.

“Perfect.” 

Creative Writing #70

I’m naked… She’s naked… She and I are both naked, lying on the beds, holding our hands; I made the first move to feel her tender, soft lips. The naked taste of her lips is smooth and creamy. Pleasantly golden that made me feel like I’m a pirate and her lips is the soaking treasure. Or matter of fact, her beauty is the soaking treasure. Her beauty would make her rich in love and lust. The Soaking Beauty.

Creative Writing #68

Like a box of Air Heads, I have unique, colorful flavors in my imaginative world. The World of Imagery. For instance, a woman that I imagine in my head is a sugary, brown muffin cutie-pie, who is smooth like mango-vanilla. On top of the snowy mountain, shaped like cookies and cream ice cream cake. And falling from the sky, like snow, is red cherry and blueberry ice. Beauty. A natural and artistic feeling from the inner self. The Expression. Naked. Deep. And most of the time, Dark. Passion like a fruit. I Imagine Greater like Sci-Fi. My words go deep like a knife cutting through a steak. Toxic that is deadlier than Cobra’s venom. And the flow is Angel Fish, colorfully vivid. Plus with a pocket of Common Sense, I have enough to buy a pack of mechanical pencils, notebooks, and a bottle of J.UI.C.E.

Metapoetic.

Creative Writing #66

He is driving a brand new Cadillac which he brought last week, with his monthly salary that he saved up, working as a Technical Writer. Driving through his old neighborhood that he grew up many years, while raised by two grandparents, he sees certain corners of the neighborhood peaceful, and smooth. No sign of yellow tapes that says “Do Not Cross” every corner store or block. No sound of the ambulances or police cars. He sees young men hanging by the corner store, chilling, laughing, but doubts that they’re D-Boys; or Gang Bangers. Through many years, his life seems different than his friend’s life. But yet, he and his friends shared the same goals. And those goals are to live better, succeed in life better, and become better, not just being human beings, but become Black men. So he wishes that his homeboys were still alive, so he could share the life of success and happiness with them.