My Eff

I love my friends; they challenge me in ways I cannot do myself.

Case and point: I just finished reading an essay by my friend Graydancer, Eff The Ineffable.

In it, he challenges everyone to name the things that make you different.  Why are you a "unique little snowflake"?  Why is an experience with you special?  In short, why should someone play with you?

I appreciated this question; it made me evaluate my own selfworth, which is something I've been trying hard to do. 

What is my Eff?

Physically, I know I'm attractive.  Recently, I was even described as beautiful by a person who'd only met me once. 

I believe in my beauty at fleeting moments: in the morning when I'm brushing my teeth, after a post-shower masturbation session when my skin is flushed and my curls are perfectly tossed about, once I've gotten ready for a party and take that final look in the mirror before I leave. 

I know the features I love most, which also happen to be the ones that get the most attention.
 
My naturally curly hair is an obvious draw.  It's not always the case that a black woman lets you touch her strands.  I, however, love it.  Play with it; mess it up.  Running your fingers through my locks and massaging my scalp is an easy way to bend me to your will.  And pulling it, especially during sex or play, sends me over the moon.

And then there is my ass.  I've written poetry about it, and often take pictures of it post play, as it is a favored target.  The curve, the mass of the flesh; I do not possess the words to describe how much I adore my ass.

Beyond my looks, I know the little things I do, the small nuggets I give in my interactions with people, that brings something special when I am with you.

My eyes are a soft chocolate brown.  Often, when I play, they are mostly closed.  But, when I do open them, and stare deep into you, I am connecting more than flesh-to-flesh.  I am letting you in and asking for the same.  I am focusing my energy on you, giving of myself to you, and hoping I can receive in kind.

When I am really nervous, or unsure, or desparate, but without the courage to say so, I have this way of stealing quick glances: bending my head towards the ground, biting my lower lip, and hurriedly flicking my eyes up and down, trying to not get caught.  When you do catch me, you like what you see.

When I've gotten to know you and formed at least a loose friendship, each time we greet my eyes are bright, smiling more than my lips, pulsing my happiness out to you.

And then there is my submission: my head on your knee, my willingness to please, to give, to submit.  It has only been these past few months that I've grown to aprreciate, understand, and love how much I can give by being at your knee, at your heel, at your side. 

I am there for you, and only you.  My focus is your pleasure, whether through a task, my pain, or my silence.  My single-minded will to give of myself to you is another type of energy, another level of attachment I bring to the table.

The last, and I believe the best, trait I bring is my smile, my laughter, my giddiness towards life.  I often say, "I cultivate my childlike whimsy."  I giggle at the drop of a hat.  Occasionally I have to stop myself when the fits start and I get lost in the glee of it all. 

I will be the first to cheer you up, give you a hug, hold your hand while you pour out your heart.  Maybe you need a backrub.  Maybe I can say something funny to make you smile.  I believe making others happy, bringing joy and wonder to the everyday, is a reason to live.

So, that's my Eff, at least what I can think of this afternoon.  What's yours?