A writing exercise

"Can you see it?"
Her words brush across the back of my neck. I felt her arm snake around my waist. Her thumb brushed against my navel. I wasn't wearing a shirt and neither was she. I put my nose against the chilly glass of the window and focus on what is in front of me.
"Oh" I respond when I see it. "Oh how cute!"
She chuckles softly, places a soft kiss at my hairline. I shiver with the resulting goosebumps.
"It's just a squirrel." Her  other hand finds itself on my hip. I feel the cotton of her underwear brush against my butt.
"Look at him go." I say, even as her thumb begins a feather like stroke over my lower belly. I feel her nuzzling her nose into my hair and we sway. The nut brown squirrel pauses and his tail twitches once... twice. His big black eyes surveying the barren winter landscape for potential danger. He seems to decide it's safe and he darts along the grass. He stands at the base of a tree now and begins to dig. I close my eyes as she presses her lip just under my ear.
"You hungry?" She whispers, and kisses the side of my neck.
"Mmhmm... I could eat a stack of pancakes." 
Another raspy chuckle and her hand moves from my hip to just below my breast. The thumb on that hand brushes the curve of my left breast, sending a delightful tremor low in my belly.
"I was thinking about having something else on the menu."
I lick my lips. An answering pulse begins between my thighs and I take a breath, letting it out  with a tremble. "You are such a lecher"
"Just watch the squirrel" There is a ring of amusement in her voice, her thumb ceases brushing my navel and instead moves lower, brushing just above the rim of my underwear.  We stand here like that. I have no words. One thumb continues to brush under my right breast while the other thumb runs the rim of my underwear. It is deliberate and rhythmic.
With each sensual graze the temperature seems to rise.  I try to focus on the squirrel. His tail flicks and he darts over to a scraggly bush. He begins to dig just as she kissed my shoulder.  The kisses don't stop, they work their way up to just below my ear.
The stroking of thumbs.. the feathery lips... the twitching of a chubby squirrel's tail. My heart races in my chest now. I can hear the ticking of the wall clock downstairs. We sway again and the hand under my breast shifts up. It brushes over my nipple. I take in a lung full of air, hold it, and then release it with a shuddering of shoulders. 
Her grip on me hardens, and my back is treated to the softness of her breasts nestled against them. I know better than to speak. She gets joy from this sensual exploration. This deliberate torture.
My nipple hardens under her touch and a fresh burst of arousal sends my knees trembling. She shifts that hand mercilessly teasing the rim of m underwear upward and now she has the full weight of my breasts in either hand. I almost sigh with the exquisiteness such an action evokes. The startling sensation of millions of receptors responding to the tiniest stimulation. This time I am pressing against her... I lift my hands up to hold hers there.
"Uh uh... watch the squirrel."
I grunt my frustration and place my fists to either side of my hips. She does not laugh but I feel the amusement from her lips, which are pressed against the back of my neck. Involuntarily my knees drift a little more apart.
The squirrel dives under the bush, only to return seconds later. He lifts up an acorn. His tiny hands turn it over and over.
She kneads my breasts, then slides a single hand over my stomach, torturously slow. 
"Honey... " I say huskily. "this is so wrong..."
She tugs one end of my underwear down with her hand. Her pointer finger slides along the seam where my thigh joins my hip, then slowly across to nestle right where I want her. I suck my teeth. I  can't move. If I thrust my hips forward she'd touch my throbbing clit. Yet if I did that she'd  make me wait more. This is a game we play. A test of endurance. If I win I get a pay off. If she wins...
We sway again and she's tugging the other side of my panties.  They stop  low on my thighs. Her hands move to my hips and rest there.
I respond with a whimper.
The squirrel looks around, puts the nut in his mouth, and makes a dash across the street. He disappears behind a fence.
I can hear her breathing. Thumbs circling my hips. I can feel her pressed against me still.
I hold my breath. I am pulsing. My blood rushes in my ears. I am heavy with need I can feel it... but I must stay still. I must win. The clock seems louder but the silence between us is profound.
She presses a kiss against my shoulder. Her hands drop from my hips.
Everything becomes suspended. I am waiting now. Though I don't know how much longer I can hold out.
"Turn around" she says huskily.

Finals are almost done!

The thing about writing is.. I am constantly compelled to do it. The problem is that I am also trying to finish up my college education...
Mostly..
Mostly I write so many papers about things I don't really care about, and it kind of gets in the way of my creativity. Sometimes all I manage is poetry.
My tendency, my desire, my will, is to represent areas that I feel are not fully represented mainstream in literature.
I tend to see more opposite ends of the spectrum. Novels based off all black women.. or novels based off all white.. Where are the mixed folk?
I read an interesting statistic in one of my text books. In the book they had a pie chart on children and their ethnic backgrounds.. up until the 80s, when I was born, there was NO representation of people with multiracial background, even though there were likely plenty! Today, it is expected that multiracial children represent somewhere around 32 percent of the population.. this will only increase over the next decades.
This post is random, and yet it's what is on my mind now.. How do I make it happen?
Well.. I just keep writing..

Anyway more writings to come in a couple weeks! Just have to get through this last finals week.

This is why this blog is R-rated

I can still imagine your skin....
dusky, with a hint of copper
I trace the lines of strength
from wrist to elbow
on each arm
I can taste you
if I close my eyes
light, unassuming, with a tinge of coffee on your tongue
and when your kisses deepen and my body tenses
I can feel your fingers drawing patterns
on my back
sliding delicately, but with great precision
down my thighs..
over my hips..
delving between  my swollen lips
probing.. finding me
Your mouth, hot and tight
how it envelopes each nipple
with care..
I rock my body against you
into you..
around you..
I breathe in that cologne you wear
with watery notes
I drown..
Your breasts slide down my belly
Your eyes devouring, your mouth searching
Until they find the waiting wetness
the aching river that belongs to you
I groan, I moan.. make animal noises in my throat..
Wildly gripping my fingers into your hair
thick.. dark.. perfect handles
perfect for holding on to
while I follow the lyrics of your tongue
singing me into oblivion...

Special interest

So I am excited that "Wicked Things" Is on the way and that I have made some headway in "Thraxia" It is definitely coming along! If only I can find one good, solid weekend to flesh some things out! It's going to happen, most definately.
Anyway... I know I have stated various times that there is not enough representation of women of color in lesbian literature. So imagine how tickled pink I was when I found a little gem entitled "Tangled Roots" by Marianne K. Martin!
Thanks Marianne! Apparently the plot centers around the love affair between an African American daughter of farmers and a white daughter of a plantation owner (historical yay!) I believe it hasn't released quite yet but I anticipate it. I do hope Ms Martin creates a substantial story! It definately sounds like it from the blurb, which can be found at bywaterbooks.com
Finally! I am starting to see some light here!

Hope prevails...
-Orhea

As surely as I breathe

It seems like most days, I keep reminding myself what it is I am doing.
Writing helps because it solidifies that large space in my mind that doesn't recieve stimulation.  This place no one can touch.  This is random but, I've attempted to write one of those marvelous poems like they do in poetry slams? The only issue is I don't think I am capable!
My poetry sometimes rhymes in places and sometimes doesn't and it tends to play with word meanings as well as sound to inspire a sort of feeling. I am a word genie, not a lyricist.  Ha, so anyway, here is my poorly written poetry.

                                                   Mixed Girl Thoughts
My nose is round.
Not just round like a little button, it's round like an orange.
Or maybe a cherry tomato...
The point is this
It doesn't quite fit my face, does it?
But I'm not trying to down myself
I've got enough self esteem to say
I don't look half bad...
Anyway my nose is round, I have freckles, I'm yellow, and my hair has about three different textures.
I am multi racial.
It's funny because when I was little, the only ones like me were my siblings.
But now, we're everywhere.
I can't help but to see that single raced mom, pushing her bi racial child in a stroller and think...
That kid has some crazy hair!
Bur other things pass through my mind too.
Like is the world really ready for this?
Am I ready?
Will these kids grow up not knowing who they are?
Or maybe they'll grow up having one view pushed upon them.
Will they dissociate from one race in favor of another and is this right?
Well, is it?
Whatever they say about themselves I hope they are confident.
I hope they see their round noses like blessings.
Their crazy hair like wings...
I hope they look in the mirror and don't see..
A jigsaw puzzle.
A missmash of ideas that don't meld proportionately.
I hope they look in the mirror and see, a smoothly blended, seamless person.
I hope they are confident.

Taste my words

Hello all... here is a very short sample skit... It's a mini writing exercise I give myself to get juices flowing (no pun intended) usual restrictions apply.





Sweet obsession...
I make no lies. I am obsessed with her feet.
She has those long, ridiculous toes that are kind of like fingers.
Ha, I know I tease her all the time about it. She just laughs and punches my arm lightly and tells me to stop 'bugging'.
Mm... I love her smile. Her lips are...so juicy, and she never smiles so much that her teeth shows.. Instead her lips quirk just a bit, her nostrils flare.. oh she has the cutest nose. Just like a button.
She says I obsess to much. I think too much. You see? All these nagging, tiny details that seem to most just.. trivial.. most people just live their lives but I don't. I grab the biggest fucking spoon and I eat it, like a bowl of triple nut fudge ice cream. I love food, the pleasure of sight, smell, taste. I love walking on a hot day, sweat trickling between my breasts and thighs.. I love the smell, the feel of rain, of being wet... and I don't just mean water.
Which brings me to another thing.
I love sex... more importantly, I love sex with her. It's like, a beautiful song.. Like a movie, and I am not just fucking with you. You can't possible know it's just...just like the ice cream thing. I love the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her skin, and when she touches me...
Oh when she touches me!
My knees buckle, my breath is short, my heart races and spirals into everything. I love the way she moans for me. I love the way our bodies slide, slick with sweat.. and how her hot mouth feels when she sucks my nipple into her glorious mouth.
God I love her mouth. Mmm mmm mmmm

Just a few words

Rest in peace Robin Williams. You gave the world memories. Good ones. I think one of my favorite movies he ever starred in was "Hook". He had this warm sparkle to his eyes that were open and child like...
I am amazed that he suffered from depression. This only goes to show that depression is a real ailment, and that many people are dealing with it and don't know what to do.
Please reference my other blog, "Waking up". It is for my other mission in life, that is to help others by sharing poems and words of wisdom.
Love is the only way... remember that. You have it in you, you have it all around you. Draw on it, and become strong and whole.