Ebz’s Black Book: Letters of Heat & Honey 🔥True Erotic Confessions & Diary Entries from Across the Diaspora🔥(Vol. 1.5)

“Some secrets were never meant to be whispered... they were meant to be read with your legs crossed. 👀💦”

Voiceover: “A DAT YUH FI TALK BOUT!”

Ebz:

Welcome back to Ebz’s Black Book on TalkBoutDatRadio, where we dive deep into your wildest, wettest stories. Tonight, we’re talking about those acrobatic moves that make your bed a whole gymnasium!

Phone lines are open — who’s got a story that’ll make me sweat just listening?

Phone rings

Ebz: Hey love, you’re live with Ebz. What kind of crazy, twisty story you bringin’ us tonight?

Caller: Ebz, girl, I gotta tell you ’bout this one time me and my man got ridiculous — I’m talkin’ about positions so twisted, we both thought we’d break the bed, but nah, we broke every rule instead!

Ebz: Lawd jeezas, chile! You got me on the edge already — spill the tea!

Caller: So, it started like any other night — candles, slow grind, but then he grabs me, flips me over his shoulder like I was a ragdoll. Next thing I know, I’m bent backwards on the edge of the bed, hips pushed high, hands gripping the frame — he’s got one leg hooked behind mine, body pressing against me like he’s molding us into one.

Ebz: Oooh, child, I’m feelin’ that stretch from here! Keep going!

Caller: Then he lifts me up again — this time, I’m perched on his thighs, legs wrapped tight ’round his waist, arms locked behind his neck, our bodies swaying, eyes locked. He’s driving deep, slow, controlling every inch, while I’m balancing on his strong legs, muscles burning but mind flying.

Ebz: Sas chrise! Like a damn yoga class with benefits!

Caller: Exactly, Ebz! But it didn’t stop there. He flips me onto my side, legs twisting, and uses his hands to steady me — one palm pressing my thigh open wide, the other gripping my hip. Every push, every pull, sent jolts straight to my core. I’m gasping, moaning, sweat slick, body slicker.

Ebz: Baby, I’m sweatin’ just hearin’ this! Did y’all do some kind of circus act next?

Caller: Girl, yes! At one point he lifted me off the bed, holding me close to his chest, spinning slow, then laid me back down but with one leg draped over his shoulder — I felt every inch of him, deep and relentless. The pressure, the grip, the movement — it was wild! I swear my legs shook for days.

Ebz: Lawd, that’s a workout and a half! What about the messy parts — did it get wet enough to slip?

Caller: Oh honey, it was dripping like a summer rainstorm. The slickness made every move slippery, sexy, dangerous — and that made it even hotter. He wasn’t just inside me, he was sliding, gliding, owning every inch like he was carving out a masterpiece.

Ebz: Mmm, child, you had me right there with you. You think you two could teach a class?

Caller: We just might, Ebz! Next session: Acrobatic ecstasy, no shame, all flame.

Ebz: Wooeee! Y’all sound like pure fire. Alright, who else wanna flex those wild moves? Phone lines stay open!

Phone rings

Ebz: Hello love, spill the tea — what’s your acrobatic heat?

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Dear Ebz,

I never thought I’d be writing into something like this at my age. But after what happened that weekend, I had to put pen to paper. Let me change his name—let’s call him “Taj.” He’s 28, I’m 52. I met him at a charity gala for my husband’s constituency. He was working valet, but the way he looked at me when he opened my car door? Like he already knew every inch of me under my silk gown.

Fast forward two weeks, and we were checked in at a discreet little boutique hotel in St. Ann. I booked it under a fake name. I couldn’t risk being seen — not with who my husband is. But chile, the moment Taj touched me, I stopped caring about anything outside them four walls.

He kissed me like I was air. Like he needed me to breathe. We didn’t even make it to the bed right away. He bent me over the marble counter, undid my blouse slow, whispering, “You ever been worshipped properly, Miss Cee?” I just moaned in reply.

That boy had me spread like Sunday dinner — legs wide, toes curled, back arched, hands gripping the edge. He licked me like mango juice running down his chin. I squirted on his tongue before he even gave me the full of himself.

When he finally did enter me, he gripped my hips like they were handlebars and rode me deep from behind. Slow at first — teasing me, making me whimper like a schoolgirl. Then he started showing off. Ebz, this man flipped me onto one knee, held my other leg in the air, and still kept stroke like a pro. I never knew my body could fold like that. We were like puzzle pieces twisted together in every angle.

My wig shifted. My lashes came off. I was calling down the ancestors. At one point, he had me face down, ass up, back swaying to his rhythm. Then he pulled out, flipped me onto his lap, and bounced me like a damn trampoline. Sweat pouring, thighs trembling, that deep creamy connection dripping out every time he slipped out and pushed back in.

When I came that final time, I screamed into the mattress. It wasn’t even words. Just sounds. He collapsed beside me, kissing the curve of my back, still semi-hard, still hungry. We ordered oxtail after and ate in bed. Naked. Still sticky.

I went home to my husband that night with Taj’s fingerprints still on my thighs. That was six months ago. It’s still going on. I’m addicted to the filth of it. To the way he makes me feel like I’m still a woman — not just someone’s wife.

Anyway, Ebz, thank you for letting me share. Don’t judge me, please. Just know… older women still got the juice. And we like it nasty.

With heat and honey,

“Miss Cee”

Kingston, 2023

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Ebz's Reply – TalkBoutDatRadio Presents: Letters of Heat & Honey

Lawddd Jeezas… MISS CEE!

Mi nearly fling mi mic cross di studio reading dis! 😭

First of all — yuh telling me seh yuh out here bussin’ it wide at 52 with yuh legs dem up like scaffolding!? 😩

A wah kinda pilates-prayer-position Taj fling yuh in so!?

Mi feel like mi was dere with yuh pon dat hotel counter. Mi can almost hear yuh wig sliding off like, “Me done.” 😭 Ebz nearly ketch cramp just picturing it! That young boy sound like him tek yuh soul, rinse it, and give yuh back half. Miss Cee, yuh nah easy at all.

And di fact seh yuh went home to Mr. Big Tings Politics wid Taj’s fingerprints pon yuh thigh? Chile… this nah regular cheating—this is Olympic-level fornication.

But let mi tell yuh dis: I ain’t mad. No judgment round here, babes. You see inna dis here Black Book, we don’t shame women for wanting more. We don’t shame women for feeling sexy after 50. And we definitely don’t shame dem for bussin’ a squirt wid a likkle scammer youth wid stamina like a bull!

Yuh said yuh feel like a woman again — not just a wife. And THAT right there? That’s the part that make Ebz clap. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

But be careful, Miss Cee. Scammi Taj sound sweet now, but remember, sugar and cyanide both white. Don’t get too lost in di sauce… unless yuh ready fi boil up inna it proper.

Yuh always welcome inna mi studio, love. Next time, send a voice note. Mi waan hear yuh say di part weh yuh bawl out into the mattress. 😏

From one hot gal to another,

Stay juicy. Stay scandalous.

Ebz.