You, Me and Her

The best memories of us were when we first met
“Awww, the blissful years, the ones with no regrets
When I shaved and prepped in seductive perfume
A sure-shot lure to intimacy as you stepped in the room!”

It was a time when you wore matching underwear
Knowing that when you undressed, I’d lick my lips and stare
Now they are mismatched; our styles, a disgrace
As I grew a beer belly and scruffy hairs on my face

I remember we use to kiss goodnight and woke up spooning
But those vanished with the decline of our style and grooming
We began going to bed, often times, separate
Those lonely nights I stayed awake made me desperate

And that’s what led me to really start seeing her
Now, I wait for you to fall asleep, so I can cheat after
She takes my mind away from our ugly truth
And displays sexiness, the kind I’d hate to mute

I often fantasized of me and you sharing her
But I doubt you’d be interested in a ménage à trois
She likes it when she plays and I attentively watch
Also, when I touch her front and check her out from the back

A remote control in my hand is her biggest turn-on
A kinky fetish she developed in the country she was born
That, plus me sitting or lying on the sofa
She loves spontaneous attention too, and hates a steady rota

When she is turned on, her signature tattoo glows
She shines so bright and screams so loud, I wonder if my neighbor knows
She’s sexy, sleek and knows just how to entertain
I’ll never leave her, even if my neighbors complain

She’s open to me being a married, black man
But I never thought I’d cheat and fall for a Korean
Our interracial affair has shown me things, I never thought I’d see
So, while you, my wife, goes to sleep, I cheat with the Samsung TV

© Ian T. Sebàs 2017

© Ian T. Sebàs

Taking My Sexy Back

It was as if I fell asleep for the last fifteen years and just woke up in mid-town yesterday.

For no particular reason, while coming home from work, I suddenly noticed that women were no longer sexy; it was just as shocking to me too. And wanting to be sure of my finding, I decided to do a scoring survey, in my mind, with hopes that by the time I walked to the train station, maybe I could find an average score of five-out-of-ten.

There was no such luck.

Still refusing to accept that as the reality, I deliberately missed my train to try out another scoring tactic.

And even though I am heterosexual, I decided to check out some men, but not being gay made it a little difficult for me; I was not sure of what to look for, “Do I look at the way they were dressed or do I look at their faces and physiques?”

I know what a decent looking man should look like, but I was lost in knowing whether he’d appear appealing or desirable to a woman or not.

Having to struggle with that, I decided to switch my views back to women, but this time, the younger ones. And it was there the answer awaited.

In less than 15 minutes of my screening, females whom I guessed were between ages of, say, twenty and thirty-five hit my ratio of sexiness with an impressive eight-out-of-ten. Hairs, faces and make-up were all impeccable, followed up by fashionable attires and accessories, and for the few that passed me nearby, the pleasant odor of their perfumes had to be noted.

It was at that moment when I felt woken up to realize that I was fifty years old, married with children and that the last time I saw sexy was about fifteen years earlier.

After giving it even deeper thoughts, I realized that no one I knew were sexy, not even me. I, too, had fallen into the un-sexy category.

I began wondering, “When did that happened, when did the transition of U and N attached themselves to my SEXY? “

“Yes” I thought “over the last fifteen years I got married, took out a mortgage, three car payments and had two children” “But does this justifies un-sexy?” “No, not at all!”

Seemed like everyone hung it up after age thirty-five. And even though I didn’t get the memo, I was sure acting as if I did.

I immediately began reminiscing on my sexy years, when girls my age made the efforts and greeted sexy back with energy and glee, and I did too. Yes, I remembered when girls were sexy all the way down to their underwear; a matching G-string and bra were my favourite to see.

Sexy dresses, fitted or gown-styled, short or long and stilettos; it was usually stilettos most of the time if not all the time, because no other shoes boast the curves of a woman’s sole like a pair of stilettos, while showing off the indisputable sex appealing assets of a woman’s legs.

Yeah those were the days.

But yesterday, all I saw were flats. Aged women, who most likely complain about muscle aches and have no time for stilettos, poor hair grooming, wore little or no make-up and attired in a way which boldly spelled out ‘CAN’T BE BOTHERED’. And for that reason I did not even allow my mind to wonder if SEXY applied to their underwear, the outer layer said it all.

I turned to me and realized that I had to revamp my attitude, awake my energy or what’s left of it and apply a makeover because I want my sexy back.