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A giving woman who hates asking people for things deserves to be given the world. | Breakfast In Bed Ep.10

Posted on June 11, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

“He’s going to kill me,” Rosaria mumbled to herself, shaking uncontrollably behind the hotel bed in response to her brother’s warning shots.

“I’m not going to kill you!” Rosaria’s brother Austin replied. “I only want to bring you back to dad’s manor.”

“I can’t go back there, ever!” Rosaria cried. “You and that maniac can have each other.”

“Bitch, whet?” Austin snapped in a sassy tone. “What ‘chu mean we can have each other?”

“Guuuurl, who you calling bitch?” Rosaria snapped back. “Did I stutter? You know exactly what….”

“Pow pow!” was the sound Rosaria heard as Austin’s gun fired two shots. Chills of fear ran down her body as she helplessly gripped the bedding. Suddenly, she felt blood dripping down her neck as her body froze. She couldn’t feel the pain from the bullet. She was numb. She couldn’t activate her sense of touch. The only one of her senses working was her sight. As Rosaria fought to maintain consciousness, she stared at the beautiful portrait hanging above the bed. She gasped hard when she saw his reflection in the mirror, holding the Barreta.

“Anthony!” Rosaria shouted.

Breakfast in Bed: Episode 10
By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Once Gloria arrived at her husband Richard’s cabin, she got out her car, snapped her fingers, & four men in swat gear pulled her daughter India’s unconscious body out of the backseat, carrying her into the cabin. Gloria lit a Cuban cigar & inhaled it deep, pleased with her work.

“Are you hurt?” Anthony asked his bae’s twin sister, Rosaria.

“Where is India?” Rosaria screamed, with fear in her eyes & goosebumps all over her body.

“Ria! I’m asking you are you ok?” Anthony pleaded.

“And I’m asking you where the hell my sister is,” Rosaria snapped. “Why did you even come here for me and not go save my sister. Unless you already killed her & are here to finish me off.”

“Finish you off?” Anthony asked. “I just saved your life. Your brother Austin had his gun aimed directly at your jugular before I came in & knocked him out. I saved you.”

“And I’m so appreciative, Captain-save-a-twin,” Rosaria retorted, “but you forgot to save the other twin. You know, the one who’s actually in love with you. What happened to my sister? Where is India?”

India’s unconscious body lay in the attic of her father’s cabin. Though she was in a dream state, limbs unable to work, her senses worked fine. She could smell the aroma of smoke in the air, coming from her mother’s Cuban cigar. This trigger a memory in her subconscious mind of burning cedar from the romantic first date she’d had with Anthony just hours earlier.

“How do you like this restaurant?” Anthony asked India, after pulling out her chair for her.

“It has a beautiful ambiance & an amazing smell, mmm,” India replied before dramatically inhaling for effect. “I love the fire-place. It’s nice & toasty in here. Good choice sir.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Anthony laughed, handing India a cigar from his blazer jacket, “you’re so proper. I feel like I should tip my top hat to you, if I had one.

“Ha! And I’d curtsey,” India giggled, grabbing the cigar & putting it inside her purse. “Thank you, I don’t smoke but I promise to save it for a special occasion.

“Fair enough,” Anthony replied. “Could you imagine life in those days? If you had to pick any classic era to live in, which would you pick?”

“The 1940s, easy,” India answered. “The way women like Katharine Hepburn used to dress in those Black & White movies. Ugh. I love classic beauty and sophisticated elegance.”

“Mmm, well-played madam, well-played,” Anthony agreed, lighting his cigar to smoke. He handed India the matches he’d grabbed from the front desk at the restaurant for her to put in her purse, as he continued talking.

“Classy women who posses beautiful souls get over looked too much these days, while girls who lack substance & bare their assets to unworthy viewers get all the attention.

Sometimes you see the girl stressed, struggling to do it alone. No acknowledgement from her family, staring at her dry phone. Doubt in her mind. Hurt in her heart, but ambition in her eyes. Realize, she’s everything you need, to be whole. A resilient woman loves deeply, with all her soul. Help take away her demons. Reassure her flaws are not a deal breaker. Fight for her. Cut off your side chicks. Grow with only her, until you two become one.

That’s what I kept telling myself when I first saw you walk into that Starbucks. It threw me off when you told me you were taken. But, even though I didn’t get your number that day, I knew it wasn’t the end for us. I don’t care who had you when I first met you, you were always mine in my heart. No thing he ever said to you can comfort you more than the embrace of my reassurance. No night in bed with him can compare to the deep way my throbbing intellect pounds the lip entrance of your mind.

I won’t compete with the EXs of your past, nor the men in your phone. My heart is your throne. Come home baby & share it. My commitment is your crown. Come on baby & wear it. I plan to marry you one day, up to heaven I swear it up. And on the night you say I do, your gorgeous body, mmm I’mma tear it up. Devour your lips, then feed those lips my head. Such a sensual kiss, in the dialect of french. I want to ease my love inside your pulsating chambers, so you can feel how strong my heart beats for you. Burst your love down the throat of my heart, watch me swallow every drop. I want to love you non-stop, because my affection for you, just like my protection of you has, no limit.”

“Lawd ha’ mercy!” India responded with a smile, “Damn boy, making me squirm on front of all these people! How dare you.”

“You know you love ever fuckin’ word of it, don’t play with me India,” Anthony whispered in a low, deep voice, loud enough for only her to hear him.

“Mmm, I love when you put me in my place,” India admitted in a low tone, “but if you ever call me out my name or disrespect me I will chop your head off. And not the one connected to your handsome face either.”

“Ooooo you’re a feisty woman ain’t you,” Anthony replied, wincing at the thought of his penis being chopped off. “Not one to play with.”

“Mama can hold her own,” India smirked. “This mouth is a weapon. Cocked and loaded.”

“Nice,” Anthony responded, talking with cigar in hand, “I see you love that scent of firewood too. Just know, if ever your mouth runs out of ammunition, that hair spritz in your bag can act as a hell of an explosive weapon when combined with wood & fire.”

Suddenly India woke up. While she was fighting to regain her vision, her sense of smell worked perfectly.

“Fire,” she whispered under her voice.

After regaining her vision, she spotted her purse, then crawled to it. She couldn’t walk, but she could think. She grabbed her cell phone, her hair spritz, the cigar and matches Anthony gave her; crawled back to her spot by the window, scrolled to her iTunes & played the first song she saw.

When the swat team heard the loud music projecting from the attic, they grabbed their weapons & headed upstairs. India slid her phone across the wooden floor, towards the attic door. The swat team stormed into the attic, guns drawn. With fear in her heart and determination in her mind, India begin to dance.

Sixteen years of ballet came in handy. India was poetry in motion. With the grace of Misty Copland and the allure of Ciara in the “Ride” music video, India distracted the maliciousness of her mother’s henchmen.

She bit the cigar and with sensuality, eased it between her lips. Then, she placed her back to the window, put her hands on her knees and bent her back. All the blood rushes from the salt team’s upper head and tracked to their lower heads. She shook up her spritz, lit her cigar, lit the bottom of her spritz bottle, threw them both on her straw cot and jumped out the window. As soon as the henchmen begin to shoot at her shadow, their gun fire triggered an explosion. India landed on soil and manure, as she watched her mother’s henchmen roast to a crisp in the cabin she grew up visiting every summer as a little girl.

“India is not a little girl anymore,” Anthony replied. “She’s not your baby in need of your protection anymore.”

“And so who are you then,” “I mean correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you trying to be her protection? Her stability? Her knight in shines armor?”

“No,” Anthony corrected, “I am her solder. I am in her life for my spirit to serve hers. My actions will make her loyalty submit to my consistency.

A woman doesn’t need protection by a man nor from a man. After all, the most powerful force in the universe chose woman to protect, carry & deliver life into this realm as mothers. So, she doesn’t need my protection. She needs my love. Encouragement. Support. Faithfulness. Trust. Acknowledgement. Appreciation. She needs me to be what she always is to every one else, yet no one ever is to her, a giver.

A giving woman who hates asking people for things deserves to be given the world.

She always puts everyone’s needs before her own. Yet, who ever makes her a priority? Sometimes, asking her ‘are you ok?’ ins’t enough. Do for her without her having to ask. A woman of strength internalizes her pain. Study the enigma she is & give to her reassurance that all she does is appreciated.

Your sister is a fighter. Not just for herself, but for her family and everyone she loves. When she asked me to kill her brother, I was confused. Yet, now I understand. She loves you more than anything. Austin hurt you in the worse way & she wanted me to protect you from him. When your father told me where she was and how to save her, I knew it as a trap. He wanted me to go to that cabin and get ambushed, so your brother Austin could come here and finish you off. I did what India would’ve wanted me to do. I fought for the person she loves more than her self, you. But I know wi every fiber of my being India will fight, claw and push herself out of harm’s way and back into my arms. I know this, because I instill her with love, confidence and undeniable baddassness.

India is a solider. She’s my solder.”

“I want to be your solder too,” Rosaria confessed to him. Anthony put his gun in his shoulder holster, walked over to Rosaria, grabbed her shivering body and lifted her up in his arms, until the were both at eye level.”

To be continued next week……..

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Missed the 1st episode? Read it here =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib
Episode #2 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib002
Episode #3 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib003
Episode #4 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib004
Episode #5 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib005
Episode #6 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib006
Episode #7 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib007
Episode #8 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib008
Last week’s episode #9 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib009

This is a fictional, weekly web-story, based on true events.

I offered to incorporate subscribers emails for advice in the weekly #BreakfastInBed stories as a way for them to anonymously ask people worldwide for advice on their situations.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”
Facebook.com/AEAseem
Instagram: @Fuel4TheBODY

Posted in Breakfast In Bed | Tagged breakfast in bed, Ebrahim Aseem, giver | Leave a comment

If he’s not making his intentions to COMMIT clear w/ ACTIONS, he doesn’t see a future w/ you

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

If you meet a Loyal Woman who is wife material, WIFE her. Don’t wait years to commit to her. She knows her worth & will leave you. She may love you, but she loves her more.

Wives are BORN. Strong Women birth & raise wives. So a woman knows she is wife material & worthy of commitment. You think a mentally immature girl is “loyal” because she sticks with you without a title & gives you loyalty without commitment? NO.

That’s not loyal. When a woman really loves you as a man, she’s loyal to your level of commitment, not your ego. She will not ALLOW you to slight her, use her, string her along & be with her without commitment, because she knows you deserve a WIFE. Not a “main” or “bae” or “side chick”.

It’s pathetic when we will be with a Good Woman for 7 years, have 4 children by her, talking about, “We ain’t married yet, because I’m still getting to know her”. What the hell don’t you know about her after half a decade? You wouldn’t want your daughter done like that bro. Just commit to her. If you shower a woman of integrity with commitment, she will spoil you with loyalty. I refuse to be like my father & let a woman who is WIFE material walk out my life. He taught me, once you meet a queen, “don’t hesitate to wife her, because treasures are too rare to find. My mother raised a future husband, not a future baby daddy.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

https://twitter.com/ebrahimaseem/status/605550845145444352

A man knows his intentions with you after the first encounter. If he sees a future with you or just 5 minutes of orgasm-less pleasure as his side chick. So, if he hasn’t made his intentions known with actions & consistency, you’re his option while pursuing another woman.

Men feel if they have no plans of a future with you, they aren’t required to commit to you. Men will give commitment to women who require it in reciprocation of their loyalty.

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Guys purposely send mixed signals, so the woman he’s stringing along seconded guess if her standards for commitment are too high & unrealistic. This causes her to cling to him more.

Males with low esteem who’ve been hurt in their past, by an unaffectionate parent or EX, seek a woman to chase them. He knows, the more you starve a girl with abandonment issues of attention, the more they flood you with clinginess. This is why guys will “talk” to a woman for months without making his intentions known with actions. He has no intentions to seek a future with you. If he did, his actions would show it.

I’m tired of “talking” & games. I want a wife to give my last name. I want for life. I’m tired of paying $40 to see the same self proclaimed “bad bitches” in the club, wearing the same outfit she had on last week 󾌡 unrhythmically twerking on my throbbing manhood. I want agape love. I want crusing in the convertable drop top with my wife to the beach. My lips kiss her lips while the waves kiss her feet. A man w/o his good thing feels so incomplete. Let’s go on vacation to Paris, snapping usies in Brazil, then I’ll post them all on my social networks, so all the others girls know they can’t comepete with you. Whho can compare to my wife? Who can dare to think she can take my attention away from the love of my life. My rib. My empowerment. My courtship. My bride for eternity. I want to marry your soul. Propose to your spirit. Any demons deep inside, baby, let me clear it. I see you on your walk closer to the one who created you & I just want to get near it. Baby, will you marry me? Marry my dreams & ambitions if my actions are the ring that circles you with consistency? I want you. I want to pour confidence inside you. I want to put a baby in you, after you tell me, “Ebrahim Aseem, I do”.

To all the Beautiful spirited Single Women, I want you to remember, you are WIFE material. Just because you’ve made the mistake of giving your heart to weak-minded males in your past over & over who have chewed it up, spit it out, broke your trust & trampled over your loyalty: it does not change the fact you are wife material, remember that.

Stay focused bettering yourself, hustling for your career path, fueling your ambitions& stacking for your future. Be patient. You will mos def be blessed with a Strong, Tall, spiritual, faithful, humorous, affectionate, Handsome Man of valor, who will place a ring on your finger & make you the wife you deserve to be. I pray you have a great day as beautiful as your giving spirit is deep inside.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women” & “Why no man should DATE a single mother”

Facebook.com/AEAseem
Website: RealNewsPaper.me
Booking: AEAseem@gmail.com
Instagram: @Fuel4TheBODY
Twitter.com/EbrahimAseem
Motivational #SpeakLife videos: Youtube.com/RealNewsmagazine

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Posted in Thought Provoking Articles | Tagged Ebrahim Aseem, How to know if a guy is serious about you, If he's not making his intentions clear with actions, why guys don't like marriage, why guys don't marry, why he won't marry me | 1 Comment

Why no man should DATE a Single MOTHER

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

Single Mothers don’t have poor taste in men. It’s not her fault she choose a “baby daddy”. She just confided in a boy she thought was as a man.

It’s hard to judge a book by its contents, when the cover tells a lying story. Good men do exist Yet, sometimes lame males front & play the role of a MAN when they first meet a woman. Once she gives him her heart & her loyalty before requiring his faithful commitment, he switches up & reveals himself for the mentally immature little boy he is. Other times, that single mother just choose a ‘bad boy’ & her superficial attraction & choices came back to haunt her. By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

I don’t hold a woman’s past choices against her. Single mothers DESERVE a Man who can LEAD himself & his children. She shouldn’t have to lead herself AND her child by herself, AND make every financial decision in her life, AND deal with stress, AND pay all the bills, AND pray all by her self. #EbrahimAseem

She deserves a strong man who can shoulder that burden with her. Lead her child & be her rock. Teach her child how a loving, healthy relationship looks by how he treats her with respect & faithful commitment. Melt away her insecurities. Destroy her trust issues. Break down her wall & show her what reciprocal love is.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

I had to watch my moms do all that alone growing up, as she chose to divorce my father, rather than be subjected to catering to a good man who’s not on her level of growth. My father, who died when I was young, taught me with actions to never sit & watch the mother of my children struggle to play the role that I as a MAN was put on this earth to play. #EbrahimAseem

I have no children but all this love to give a child. I’m going to get the wife & children I deserve, even if I have to marry a single mother after courting her, because at least I know she knows how to cater to a man, because she’s raising one. #EbrahimAseem I’ve always felt this way, well before I ever took a single mother out on a date. Now, after being out on at least a dozen first dates with single mothers, I can confidently say:

this is why no man should “date” a single mother. Marry her. Court her. But don’t waste her time by “dating” her with no intentions to marry her. #EbrahimAseem Dating & talking are ambiguous terms. You’re either planning to marry her, sex her, or planning to friend zone her. There’s no in between.

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I met the sweetest woman at Forever 21 while shopping for my niece. Career woman, second year master’s student. Tall. Gorgeous. Fashionable. Curly haired killa. I’m talking the kind of fine where you gotta squint your eyes when you look at her fine ass. Her eyes a beautiful hazel. Her lips full & luscious, with a smile that could get her anything she wanted… except a man. She was a single mother.

Her son was her everything. Her little man was the man of the house. Her MCM every monday. No man could ever come before her son. At first glance, I knew none of this. So, when I saw her shopping, I had to approach.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted with a smile, “I pray your day goes as beautiful as your vibe is. You’re absolutely slaying your outfit. Could I ask your opinion on some clothes for my baby niece?”

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “That’s cute you shop for your niece. Or is that just some pick up line you use to meet hot women?”

I laughed out loud.

“No line queen, I just love my family & being all about them,” I clapped back. “Now, I see your hair & nails are freshly done. So are you & your abundant edges really in here shopping, or is this just some tactic you use to get approached by handsome men?”

She laughed loudly. She laughed so hard, she snorted. The giggle-snort is a woman’s boner. If you can stimulate both her mind & her funny bone consistently, she’s yours. Also, never make a woman feel her smart mouth is a problem. Just respectfully clap back & let her sassy ass know you’re just as fluent in sarcasm as she is & you will arouse what most men rarely stimulate, her pulsating mind.

“Oh! You got jokes, I see you,” she replied, failing at fighting off a blush. “Well to answer your question, I don’t do this as a tactic to get approached, but I must say, you are a very handsome man.”

“Thank you beautiful young woman,” I responded, sticking out my hand for her to shake. “My name is Ebrahim Aseem. What is your name?”

“Damiyah,” she answered cheesing harder than an infant during a tickle session. “I have a little sister who adores me & acts just like me, so I buy her clothes that I’d like. She just loves it & I love doing it. I’m a fashion designer, what do you do?”

After exchanging fashion tips, we exchanged numbers. By the time the cashier bagged the clothes I bought, I had bagged Damiyah. I called her that night & we talked for hours. For eleven days, we talked every day for hours. On the twelfth day, I invited her on a date to the Brian McKnight concert that friday. She accepted. Yet, on the day of the concert, when I went to pick her up, she flaked. Ignored my calls, texts & honks. I even rung her doorbell four times. No response. I hoped back in my car & drove home. I was furious. I didn’t understand why a woman would flake, knowing you already bought tickets to something. In reality, she wasn’t flaking on me.

I found out later her son had a post pulmonary interstitial emphysema outbreak. That’s why she was not at home. She was in the hospital with her son. Her phone died.

Men have no idea how hard it can be for Single Mothers to deal with the baby, get ready for work, feed the baby, get dressed, clean up after the baby, rock the baby, because the precious bundle of joy is crying, then wipe her own damn tears, because girls cry rivers having to deal with the baby all by her self. #EbrahimAseem

Meanwhile, the child’s sperm donor (aka father) plays Call of Duty, finger-banging enabling women, playing Madden, eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of a huge mixing bowl & buying bammer weed & over-priced Jordans with money he could be providing for his child & investing in his role as a father.

Man up & spend time with your child. Not for 2 hours bro, no stop “baby sitting your own child”, while you play daddy for another woman’s child. Take your child for a weekend, shit a whole week. Give your children’s mother time for her SELF. If You can’t say you love your child when you grieve, over stress & over work your child’s mother by making her do most if the work. #EbrahimAseem You men will be salty as hell when your children say they don’t fuck with you when they grow up.

Men, we can’t always assume a woman is flaking on us, just because she’s not available to spend time with us. Her child is her priority over herself. Don’t complain. Support her. She does it all alone & is trying to hold it all together. Reassure her motherhood is not a deal breaker & she will shower you with abundant affection.

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Two days later, Damiyah texted me apology selfies of herself & those curls, then she called me & apologized for flaking, simply saying, she had a “family emergency.” I wanted to be upset, but she was too sweet & fine to stay mad at. Like you know someone’s fine when you give them second chances after repeating red flags. She asked for a make up date & promised to make it up to me by inviting me to an Ethiopian restaurant for dinner & live jazz. I accepted. The date was amazing. Bomb food. Great music. We even danced together. Towards the end of the date, however, she dropped a bombshell.

“I have to be completely honest with you, because I really like you,” she confessed. “The reason I flaked on our first date, was because I was in the emergency room with my son. He had a lobectomy as a baby & was having trouble breathing that day. So, I took him to the hospital.”

“Wow, I’m sad to hear that,” I responded empathetically. “I pray he’s better now. I didn’t know you had a son.”

“I know,” she replied, “I planned to tell you the night of our first date, but then it happened, and I… I just feel like I should’ve already told you, but something this serious should be revealed face to face. Me and my son’s father are not together anymore, but me & my son are living with him right now. It’s a long story, but we got an apartment together before I got pregnant. Everything was great, until I told him I was with child. From then on he changed. He started cheating & yelling at me for everything. Once I had my son, it got worse. That’s when I broke up with him. I wanted to leave, but my name is still on the lease & I can’t afford to pay rent at two different places.

I moved out & got my own place, but after I lost my job, I got evicted & became homeless. There I was, me and my infant son living in my Prius. I just recently started living back with my child’s father, just so my son would not be cold at night. Look, I know this is a lot of drama & I never wanted to involve you. I hope you’re not mad at me. But, if you never want to see me again, I understand.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I assured her, “and I applaud all you do for your son. I want you to know, you are not a victim. You are a victor. There is victory in enduring pain, it makes you stronger. I’m happy you are telling me this now on our first date, before we started dating, and out of respect, I feel it is only fair to tell you that I don’t date single mothers.”

“Wow, you really just said that, huh,” she replied with a hint of attitude, “just flat-out, you don’t date single mothers.”

“No, I don’t date single mothers. Because that’s A waste of her time. I court them with the intention to marry them, or else I let them go so she can meet her future husband. ,” I explained. “This is why no man should date a single mother, MARRY that single mother, make your intentions with her known by counting her first, or don’t even waste her time by “dating” her.”

Men, if you’re not ready to faithfully commit to her, by all means, keep your substance-lacking side pieces & keep playing, but be honest with her. Don’t hold back her blessings, playing a role another man is meant to have in her life, by making her his wife. #EbrahimAseem

Don’t you string a single mother along, planting feelings in her heart & empty promises in her mind, when you know damn well you don’t see her in your future. Don’t demand her loyalty without offering her commitment, because her loyalty is to her child first. #EbrahimAseem A woman and her child are a package deal. If you date a single mother & her child gets attached to you, then you leave, it will crush that child. It will give that child abandonment issues lasting a lifetime, effecting their future relationships.

I will not ask you to chill. I will take you out on a date, let you know exactly how I feel & my intentions with you. We’re too old for games & passiveness. If you have a child, we will not “talk” or date leading nowhere. I will court you. I will make my plans to marry you one day known. You deserve a help meet, not merely a date. A man “dating” her without commitment is how she became a single mother in the first place.

I’m tired of seeing sweet women with beautiful children & no father in sight. I promise not to make any woman a mother, until I make her a wife. #EbrahimAseem

A woman all about her child makes a man of valor want to be all about her. I know you want a complete family. A husband to share a lifetime of affection with. Travel abroad with. Grow with. Laugh with. Be silly with. Raise your children to love themself with. I want you to know you are not broken. You are not damaged goods. You are not incomplete without a man. You are a masterpiece, sculpted by the most powerful artist in the universe, who has a plan & a help meet for you. So get ready. Self edify. Love your child, and your king will mentally ascend to his throne, make you the wife you were born to be and love you & your child as his own, with all his heart.

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Single mother does not automatically mean deadbeat father. Some fathers are not allowed to establish a relationship with their child, because the mother is bitter he moved on. Some single mothers are widows who had amazing husbands.

Having a child does not take away from all she has to offer. She was born to be a wife. Honor her. Reassure her having a child is not a deal breaker. It just proves she can nurture you with affection on a level you’ve never experienced. Don’t let fatherhood & marriage scare you bro. You are a king, regal minded, endowed by the greatest artist in the universe to be a leader & provider. Don’t shy from it. Embrace it.

If you want a woman you have to fight for her. One day, if we’re meant to be together, I will find my future wife & let her know how much she means to me. But I won’t “date” her. I will court her, even if she has children. Then, I will get on one knee & ask her that virtuous woman to be my “good thing”.

I can imagine being married. Having children, spending time with them, Playing with them & making them laugh, teaching them about life, instilling confidence & self worth before giving them piggyback rides. Having a wife, spoiling her with love and attention, Being goofy with her, making her laugh & smile every second I spend with her. Providing for my family.

I honestly pray I have all this before my moms gets too old to enjoy a daughter-in-law & grandchildren. Everytime I see my moms, she talks about wanting grandchildren & saying she raised me to be a husband. Because I was raised by a queen, I now for sure, I am not looking for a girlfriend to date, I am looking for a wife to court, marry & raise children with.

I’d absolutely MARRY a single mother after courting her. Then I could be my dream, a father, but never will I date her “talk” & starve her of commitment she deserves

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

Facebook.com/AEAseem
Website: RealNewsPaper.me
Booking: AEAseem@gmail.com
Instagram: @Fuel4TheBODY
Twitter.com/EbrahimAseem
Motivational #SpeakLife videos: Youtube.com/RealNewsmagazine

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https://soundcloud.com/ebrahim-aseem/shea-butter
These poetic lyrics are from Ebrahim Aseem’s newest single “Shea Butter”. Click above to hear or download FREE.

I’m a chef, writer & singer. I post new articles & recipes every thursday.

I’ve been a youth mentor for young men for 11 years, teaching them how to uplift & respect women & be men of confidence & valor. I make songs uplifting women. I speak isiZulu & English. I do motivational speaks at universities & private corporations worldwide. I am omw to do a motivational speak to a group of teen mother rape survivors at a wayward house.

If you’ve never heard my deep, baritone voice #SpeakLife

For booking: AEAseem@gmail.com.
If you would like a free copy of my book, follow me on Facebook & message me to request your free copy by clicking the picture bellow.

Check out my new article => http://wp.me/sT7Bl-Intent

Posted in For Mothers, Thought Provoking Articles | Tagged baby daddy, baby momma, Ebrahim Aseem, Single mother, why guys don't date single mothers, why no man should date a single mother | 72 Comments

Why women repeat things & “Why guys STOP TALKING to girls out of nowhere”

Posted on May 21, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

It was my first one night stand. My first “white girl”. My first night in Vegas. Yet, as I slid off her panties, all I could think about was my girl back home.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

The most annoying thing to a man is a woman who repeats herself. It makes you want to hang up on her difficult ass, storm out, or call up one of your side chicks who doesn’t nag.

Side chicks get more attention than wives & girlfriends, because they know their role & play it well. No back talk. No arguments. No repeating herself. Just lust & affection as she strokes your fragile male ego long & hard, when your main girl isn’t acting right. This is what mentally immature guys tell each other when women aren’t around, to cover up each others inadequacies. So, when my homies told me this & I profusely disagreed after confessing to not having any side chicks, they had one word for me. Vegas.

I had been seeing this beautiful Caribbean sista from Dominica for five weeks. I met her at the flea market (swap meet), an amazing place to meet mentally ascended naturalistas. When I saw her dark brown, 5’9” frame trying on bracelets, I just had to approach.

“Excuse me, but I just had to let you know, your natural hair is beautiful, do you style it yourself?” I asked her with a smile & an extended hand.

I’ve learned, approaching a woman by saying ‘excuse me’ allows you to get her attention, while showing respect for her. She may be in deep thought, depressed, on her cycle or just doesn’t feel like being approached. Being respectful when approaching a woman can be the difference between getting her 7-digits in your phone, or getting her 5-fingers slapped across your face.

“Thank you, yes I do,” she replied with a thick Caribbean accent & a hint of sass, shaking my hand. “And how do you know my hair is natural?”

“Really?” I replied with a laugh. “You’re out here smelling like cocoa butter & coconuts & you’re gonna ask me how I know your hair is natural? Of course I was gonna know your hair is natural.”

She laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth. Bruh. You know a woman is feeling you, when your laughgasm-game is so on point, she has to cover her smile. That’s how you KNOW you’re in. A woman knows within the first five seconds of meeting you if she’d give you her number. All you have to do is stay confident, funny & don’t blow it!

We exchanged names & numbers, before departing. I called her that day & invited her out on a date to an Anthony Hamilton concert that weekend after dinner. Four dates later, I had realized two things. I was extremely attracted to her mind, body & soul. And I wanted to stop talking to her, immediately.

Even though she was very sweet, she rarely showed it before an argument. And she loved to argue, but she would argue subtly, without yelling or cursing.

The way some women are always so difficult & sarcastically blunt, with that nonchalant attitude is relationship repellant to some men. I, on the other hand, love a sassy, respectful woman, because I am a confident man with a mouth of my own. But what I could not deal with is a woman who repeats herself. And she always did it.

Her favorite line was, “but you said….” Like every time I said something she disagreed with, she’d always bring up some old shit I said or did that contradicted what I was currently saying. What a nag right? Wrong. Don’t call her a nag. A nag is a horse. A woman is your supporter. Your inspiration.

If she mentions it more than once, it’s bothering her. Don’t make her always have to seem crazy or over-emotional for expressing herself & noticing inconstancy. Listen.

A woman who repeats things is not trying to be difficult bro. She just sees your amazing potential & wants to help you reach it, because she loves you deeply. Your dreams are her happiness. Your joy is her peace. It hurts her deeply that you always complain about a quality of nurturing she possesses, calling what she does nagging you, when she’s really motivating you.

You are not your woman's father. You are her equal. Respect her like you want your mother daughter or sister respected by men in their lives

— Ebrahim Aseem (@EbrahimAseem) May 22, 2015

When your woman brings something to your attention more than once or makes a simple suggestion, do not be dismissive, defensive & combative. Let her know her feelings matter to you.

Listen, then say, “babe, I just want to thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will apply it so I don’t repeat this same mistake again.” It does not take away from your manhood to listen to your woman & admit she was right, in fact, it proves you are a man of valor, who doesn’t need to make a woman feel low in order to build his esteem up.

Unfortunately, at the time, I couldn’t see this. I was so used to girls who’d pacify me. Girls who’d rather bite their tongue than speak their mind & risk losing a guy she likes by calling him out on his inconsistency. These pacifying females are rewarded with our time, when the women who love us enough to tell us when our shit stinks, these loyal women get cheated on, lied to, ridiculed & left, with no warning. Just like my Caribbean queen.

It had been three days since I last spoke to her. I stopped replying to her texts. Stop liking her pictures on Instagram. I even marked her Facebook messages she sent me as “unread” after I read them, so she wouldn’t know I saw them. I was being petty.

Guys behave petty to a woman who’s made it so clear she wants a future with him, because he knows he’s currently nowhere near her loyalty level. On the third day, after complaining to my homies about her, they suggested I go to Vegas with them for the weekend. I unloaded my feelings, packed my bags & boarded the plane for my first trip to Las Vegas, Nevada. As a huge movie-head, I’d always heard people in the movies say, “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”. By the end of my trip, I’d know too well exactly what that mantra meant.”

We checked in at the hotel. Showered. Changed clothes & went out for adult beverages. I ordered a yard-long Pina Colada at Fat Tuesdays, with six 151-shots. Yeah. Turnt all the way up. And I had the least shots in my group. We were a seven-man wolf-pack, on the prowl for women. The plan was to hit the casino for a couple of hours, then meet back up at the hotel so we could regroup & go party hopping.

I bought some chips & decided to shoot crap. After winning $40 & loosing $80, I got up & sat down at the only empty Black Jack table in the casion. If you’ve ever been to a Vegas casino, you know the female Black Jack dealers dress extremely revealing. Cleavage all the way out. Out here setting thirst trapping, tryna get all our little tips, gas money & child support. Even though I’m not attracted to that type anymore, at the time, I was very turned on by my Black Jack dealer.

She was drop dead gorgeous. Smile like Selena. Curves like Trina. Breasts like Janet. Dammit. She had me flirting. And when I flirt, I hit a woman with my intellectual prowess & hilariousness as a combo.

My aim was strictly to flirt & enjoy my remaining minutes at the casino, conversing with a gorgeous woman. Nothing more. Okay, I snapped a couple of pictures with her for The Gram. Who wouldn’t have? I was happy & single. Who could ask for more? Yet, when I lost all my chips, even the chips I wanted to tip her with, I got way more than I bargained for.

When I stood up & grabbed my drink, she slid me a white envelope & said, “enjoy yourself tonight.” I grabbed the envelope, that was the size of a credit card, slid it in my pocket & walked off.

On the cab ride back to the hotel, I felt like the man. I had cut off a difficult, smart mouth, nagging woman who repeats herself & I had just got what I thought was a number from one of the prettiest women I had ever seen. I skipped into the hotel, danced into the elevator & two stepped into our hotel room.

After hearing my homies brag about pictures they took with gorgeous women, I smiled & asked the group, “but did y’all pull a number tho?”

“Ohhhhhh!” you got a number?” Tommy asked.

“What she look like?” Greg asked me.

“Shiiiiit, what the ass look like tho?” Tommy asked.

As ‘dog like’ as women may think males are as a species, when women aren’t around, some guys are worse. Mentally immature males objectify women in every sentence when around other makes. Weak minded males feel degrading & objectifying the one their God favored enough to make the only vessel of life, makes them superior to her; filling his gaping holes of insecurity & crater-sized inadequacies. Unbeknownst to them, objectifying women, when you were born from a woman, doesn’t make you look manly, it makes you look a cowardly. Whenever I am around other men, I never allow them to objectify women in my presence.

“All you ever talk about on a woman is her ass,” I replied to Tommy. “She can have the face of a Donkey & you’d still holla if she had ass. Damn. Are you a soap droppa or something?”

“Oooooooooo!” the room instigated.

“I bet I steal yo’ bitch, the one whose number you just got,” Tommy replied.

“Why every woman gotta be a bitch?” I asked, pulling out my phone to show the guys her picture. “You like having sex with canines or something? Besides, she’s not ugly enough for you bruh.”

“Woah!” “Mami is bad as fuck!” the guys commented after seeing her picture.

“Damn E,” Greg replied, “she’s pretty & all, but all this time I ain’t never seen you with a White girl.”

The guys laughed.

“She gone pop yo’ White girl cherry,” Malik joked.

“She’s not White,” I replied with a confused look on my face, “she’s Black. She told me her pops is Cape Verdian & he raised her there until she was nine.”

“Is her momma White?” Malik asked.

“Yeah, her moms is Austrian.,” I replied.

“Well, then she White,” Malik joked.

I sighed in disagreement. Ignorance makes me sigh & the room was littered with it.

“Keep it real, E,” Malik continued. “Now, we all know you coming off dating that smart mouthed ass Jamaican girl.”

“And what better way to get over her trout mouthed ass than to get you a Becky,” Tommy piggybacked.

“A White woman is not some break or vacation from dating a Black woman,” I interjected. “A Black woman is heaven to a man with genuine intentions, so if ever you feel she’s giving you hell, it may be because she sees the demon in you. White women are not here to be submissive to you & let you run over them. A woman is submissive to her integrity & allergic to your bullshit, no matter her race.”

“Ashe,” Patrick, one of the married men agreed. “He’s droppin’ game on you brothers. I love my Black woman. Like is happier with a good woman by your side.”

“Thank you. How the hell do y’all consider a woman who’s from Africa ‘not Black’ just because she has a White mother?” I asked, foolishly entertaining their ignorance.

“Shit them mixed girls with White mommas be more White-washed than regular White women,” Malik joked. They think they’re better than Black people. As soon as they see a brotha walking down the street, they get the power walking. Like, ‘don’t approach me Nigger, I’m out of your league. Ethan already asked me on a date tonight anyway. I accepted.”

When Malik did his impersonation of how he feels “mixed women with White mothers” talk, he used an extremely proper tone, sparking the whole room to erupt in laughter. I was wearing the stalest face ever, in full disagreement with the racism & self-hatred on display.

“I’m surprised she slowed down long enough for you to approach her, with yo’ hood ass,” Malik continued, “your deep voice didn’t scare her off? You know E be approaching females, sounding like Q from Moesha. ‘Showty, what’s good with them digits?”

When Malik did his impersonation of Q from Moesha, he used an over-exaggerated New York accent. I fought off a laugh before responding.

“I didn’t even have to approach her,” I corrected, pulling out the envelope she gave me so they could see it, “she approached me.”

“Bruh, that ain’t a number that’s a room key!” Greg yelled, grabbing it from my hands. “The Mirage? Damn, E finna get laid tonight.”

“Not I, “I responded, snatching back the room key from Greg. “I don’t do one night stands. I’m not trying to catch crabs from this Black Jack girl.”

“C’mon guy!” Malik pleaded. “You deserve to treat yourself baby! This is Sin City! You need a little sin in your life. Go ‘head & spend one night in the Australian tunnel.”

“Yeah E, do it for me at least,” Curtis begged, “I’m married with kids & responsibilities. I gotta live vicariously through you.”

“Austria. Not Australian, ya idiot. But alright,” I agreed, caving in to peer pressure like a sucka, “I’ll do it. But, I ain’t doing it for the married homies. Y’all ain’t living through me.”

“Well, can you at least videotape it for us?” Tommy joked.

“Man, hell nah!” I yelled, as the room erupted with laughter.

I showered. Changed clothes. Caught a cab in front of our hotel & headed to The Mirage for my first one night stand.

When I arrived to her hotel, I road the elevator to the floor written on the envelope, strolled to her room door & used the key she slid me to open the door. She was laying on the bed, wearing sexy lingerie, looking good enough to eat. I wanted to dive in & swim deep.

“Hey handsome,” she greeted, standing up to give me a hug, “I didn’t know if you’d show. I was worried my confidence scared you off.”

“Never that,” I replied. “I love a confident woman. You got the ipod sound dock jamming Bob Marely, candles lit, I see you.”

“I’m just happy to have a reason to be romantic,” she smiled, “I’ve been living out here for two years & I just got out of a romanceless relationship. Is that a word? I don’t know, I just be making up words sometimes. You have to excuse me.”

She spoke with a soft voice. Sounding like she could moonlight as a phone-sex operator.

“I love candles,” she continued, “but my ex hated the scent. So I never got to use them. After moving out three weeks ago, I started using my candles, listening to my songs & pampering myself. When I saw you, I wanted you. Then you opened your mouth, & spoke to me in a way no man ever does. I know I wasn’t talking as much as you. I don’t want you to think I’m some airhead. I just like to listen.”

“If I thought you were an airhead, I wouldn’t be here now would I?” I said, before grabbing her by her waist & kissing her lips. She unzipped my pants, turned around & begin grinding her curves on my manhood, causing me to stand strong at attention.

“Damn, let me hop in the shower right quick,” I said, smacking her ass, “and when I come out, I want you to sit that ass on my lap.”

I closed the bathroom door, hopped out of my clothes & showered. I washed my face, neck, abs, ass, penis, legs, & feet before shampooing my hair. After rinsing off & toweling off, I walked back into the room & removed my towel. She was laying in bed, waiting for me.

I eased on the bed, parted her legs & slid two fingers inside. As I pressed her button, she began to moan uncontrollably, her body moving up & down like turbulent waves in the ocean. The tide was high. I eased my fingers out to taste what was on the menu, but before I could suck my fingers & dine on her pearl cuisine, I smelled the scent of a McDonalds fish fillet meal. Her vagina smelled like a Chinese seafood market!

“Come hop in the shower with me,” I demanded of her, once I stood back up.

“I already showered before you came over,” she replied, using her fingers to play her instrument.

“Are you kidding me?!” I thought to myself.

“Listen, it will be good foreplay, come on,” I said, picking her up & carrying her to the bathroom.

She showered. I mean, I watched her wash, every inch of her body. She washed her vagina thoroughly. And when I tell you after that shower this woman still smelled like a wet dog & aged cheese, I realized sex was no longer on the menu. I was glad I did not have sex with her. No wonder she wanted scented candles burnin. My first & last one night stand attempt was over. And in that moment, all I could think about, other than how the hell can you shower twice & your vagina still smell like sea world, all I could think about was my Caribbean queen I was so hesitant to be in a relationship with back home. #EbrahimAseem

I thought I was winning but cutting off a woman who speaks her mind before she required commitment from me but really I had loss. I lost the favor of a loyal woman & I lost my sense of smell for the evening. Her va-jay-jay juice was lethal. Smelling like death & dishonor. But what was truly dishonorable was the fact I stopped talking to a loyal woman, out of nowhere, before we could grow to be something real. I called my caribbean queen, but she didn’t answer. I texted, but she didn’t reply. I choose a self-proclaimed bad bitch over a good woman & I was paying for it. Never again.

Women repeat things, because we as men are hard of hearing. We can’t hear the love & passion in her voice when she speaks her mind to us. We can’t her the echoes of affection in the inflection of her projection, calling her nag & difficult, when her words are wisdom of protection.

Don’t cut a loyal woman off out of nowhere, fronting like you have no care.
She fought her demons for you, broke down her wall for you, destroyed her trust issues for you, and this is how you do? Don’t cut her off. Fight for her like she fights for you. Women don’t ask for the world, they only ask us to listen & show effort. That’s not asking much at all. She deserves to appreciation. Men, we have to stop calling a woman who speaks her mind, “difficult”.

A woman willing to accept you at your worst & love you with her best, she is not a ride or die, she is an enabler. A woman loyal to your potential will never allow you to be at your worst. She will inspire you to be your best. She will encourage you with her words, motivate your goals & support your ambitions. Don’t lose your motivation chasing these side pieces bro.

When will we as men realize, all the women on your social network can never amount to that ONE sweet, loyal woman of integrity who loves you so much that she’ll always check you, but never disrespect you. Commit to her. Stop leading her on, stringing her along. Don’t take her loyalty for weakness. As much as she loves you, she loves herself more & would rather walk out that door than remain loyal to your complacency.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

Facebook.com/AEAseem
IG: @Fuel4TheBODY
Twitter.com/EbrahimAseem
Blog: RealNewsPaper.wordpress.com
Motivational #SpeakLife vidoes: Youtube.com/RealNewsmagazine

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Posted in Thought Provoking Articles | Tagged Ebrahim Aseem, nag, nagging, why guys stop talking to girls out of nowhere, why guys stop talking to you out of nowhere, why he stopped talking to you, why women nag, why women repeat themselves, Why women repeat this | 2 Comments

She cut you off b/c she loves HER too much to be treated less than she deserves | Breakfast in Bed Ep.9

Posted on May 15, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

“Ahhhhh!” Rosaria screamed at the sight of the killer’s face. “It’s you!”

“Where is India?!” Rosaria screamed to her brother Austin, who was standing in the doorway, holding a gun, wearing white gloves, six-inch heels & an expressionless face. Staring at the older brother who had rapped her repeatedly as a young child sent jolts of fear up & down her spine. “Where is my sister?!”

Breakfast in Bed: Episode 9
By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

“How the hell would I know where India is?” Austin replied, with his gun still cocked & raised.

“The police said you killed her,” Rosaria screamed. “I saw her dead body. Where is my sister?”

“Maybe you should ask her Captain-save-hoe-boyfriend, Anthony,” Austin replied.

*90 minutes earlier*

Austin and Anthony walked through the sewer tunnel, until they got to a broken hot water heater, with water gushing out from under it. After realizing their was no other way to escape, Anthony motioned Austin to climb up the water heater. Once he did, Anthony followed behind him. The two men climbed through a hole, until they reached the base of a huge garbage-chute container. They crawled the perimeter of the container and up the ladder attached to it.

Once they reached the top of the ladder, they jumped out of the garbage shoot and landed on a huge pile of wet compost. After rolling out of the pile, Anthony used his Baretta to motion Austin towards the freight elevator. They got on and rode to the top.

“Where’s the videos?” Anthony asked Austin, once the elevator doors swung open.

“Why should I tell you?” Austin replied with a smirk. “You said you’re just going to kill me anyway.”

“I also said if you don’t play ball, your death would be slow & torturous,” Anthony responded, jamming his gun in Austin’s ribs. “Remember what I did to your finger? Well, that was child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you if you don’t show me where those video’s of you rapping your sister are.”

Anthony pistol whipped Austin in the mouth, while covering his mouth, so his screams wouldn’t be heard.

“They’re in the safe,” Austin mumbled, nursing his busted lip.

“Well, to the safe way go,” Anthony ordered Austin.

Austin lead Anthony through his family’s manor, to his father’s wing. Once inside, to their surprise, Austin’s father, Richard, was sitting on his bed, in his burgundy robe, drinking coffee & holding a remote, almost as if he were waiting for their arrival.

“Where is your safe?” Anthony asked, raising his gun to Richard.

“My safe?” Richard answered, “oh, that’s just down the hall. But I promise you whatever’s in my safe could not be as nearly as valuable to you as what’s in my cabin.”

“Your cabin?” Anthony asked with a confused look.

“Yes, solider, my cabin,” Richard repeated, pointing with his remote to his flat screen.

Anthony peaked to the flat screen in front of Richard & dropped his jaw in disbelief. It was a huge picture of an unconscious India, with blood dripping from the side of her head.

“Tell me where India is, or I swear to God I will empty my clip on the both of you,” Anthony demanded.

“There’s no time, solider,” Richard replied in a stern voice. “I have a well paid swat team ready, with orders to take India apart, like mechanics at a body shop the moment she arrives, which can be any minute from now. So, you have a choice to make. Open my safe, or save my daughter. I can yelled out my safe code to you right now, but if I do, you won’t get the coordinates to that cabin. What a huge dilemma for you. So solider, which is it going to be?”

Anthony had rage in his eyes & hate in his heart. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to empty his clip on both Richard & his son Austin. He thought about tying them up & lighting them both on fire. But, he also thought about his own father, and how he’d tried to arrange him into marrying his ex-fiance. He thought about all the twenty-five women he’d slept with in his life, and how worthless he thought love was, until he met India.

India saved Anthony from being love scorned. Ever since he met her, he no longer felt like meeting a new woman was a waste of time, like he used to. Being faced with a difficult choice, it was at that moment, Anthony replayed in his mind one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. This hard thing was not killing a target, or making it through basic training as a NAVY Seal, it was opening up to India about his secret past.

“Ever since I divorced my EX-fiancée, I’ve been celibate,” Anthony confessed to India, just hours earlier, before their first date. “A husband is something I’ve wanted to be my whole life, but I never agreed sex should be something saved for marriage. So, I had my fun. I’ve been with over 25 women before my twenty-fifth birthday, but ever since I broke up with my EX-fiancée, I’ve been celibate.

I realized I want the next woman I have sex with to be my wife. The past year without sex has been the hardest 365 days of my life, not because I couldn’t have sex, but because I realized I have an addiction. I can’t sleep, & when I do, I can’t fully rest, because I had gotten so used to a woman’s warm, lower-lips massaging mine before bed. Vaginal juice is the only thing that relaxes me before bed. My stomach actually aches & moans, because I’m psychically hungry for it.”

“Oh my lord,” India said, crossing her legs in excitement.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about right there,” Anthony said, pointing to her lap,” you have to stop that. I can smell it & the smell of it makes my mouth water.”

“Good God,” India blurted, “I can’t take this. Are you serious right now. Lawd! How do I open the windows in this car.”

“I’m only telling you, because I don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations,” Anthony admitted. “I’m not interested in having sex again until I propose to the one I will spend the rest of my life with & I felt it was fair to let you know, any connection you & I share must be above the waist first.”

“Wow,” India responded. “I have never heard a man say anything like that before. Do you know the weirdest thing to me is not your addition. It is your choice to be celibate. I didn’t know that was an option men even entertained. See, I am so used to manipulative, cheating, lying men, that I actually questioned if you were too good to be true. I now see that I was wrong. Which makes me attracted to you even more. You feed my mind & comfort my spirit.”

India aroused more than his sexual appetite, she aroused his mind. She challenged him, yet respected him. She gave him purpose. And as much he had vengeance in his heart for Richard & Austin, Anthony had much more love in his heart for India.

“One thing that’s been eating me up all night, that I just don’t understand,” Anthony confessed to Richard and Austin, “why the hell does this family hate India so much? What the hell did she ever do to any of you?”

“She’s a traitor,” Richard snapped. “She’s disloyal. She crossed her family as a little girl and turned her back on her family once she grew up. Even though it’s my money that paid for her degree. It’s my last name that afforded her any opportunity she’s ever had in this world. Now, she thinks she’s so much better than us, because she’s go her degree & she prays, and works for a living. That crazy girl turned her back on a legacy, just to prove herself better than her own family.

Don’t you dare look at my son with disgust. India did that to him. She made him what he is. He was meant to be great, and it is her jealousy and insanity that drove us to hate her. She cut this family off, not the other way around. So, don’t go running your mouth about things you know nothing about.

“You’re a fuckin’ disgrace,” Anthony replied to Richard. “you pompous piece of shit. How can you talk about your own child like that? Just because you helped bring someone into this world, doesn’t give you the right to shit on them, their choices and their accomplishments. India is twice the person either of you will ever be.

She’s not crazy she’s caring, and puts others over her self. So, if she cut you off, it’s because loves HER self too much to be treated less than she deserves.

Blood is no excuse. If you can’t respect & value a person, you don’t deserve to be a part of their life, period. Now, what are the coordinates?”

“It shows weakness when a man chooses love of a woman over loyalty of duty,” Richard replied, tossing Anthony a folded up piece of paper, with coordinates scribbled on them. Anthony ran down the hall, hurried down the freight elevator, scrambled through the garage & through the gate, until he made his way back to his car. He spoke the coordinates into his voice command GPS and raced off to attempt to save India.

“Bring me Rosaria,” Richard demanded his son Austin, tossing him keys to one of his seven BMWs, along with a folded up piece of paper with coordinates on them.

“How would Anthony know where India is?” Rosaria asked her brother.

“Because, he chose to try to save her over trying to save you,” Austin answered, pointing his gun at his sister.

Rosaria threw her phone at Austin’s face to distract him, then jumped behind the bed. Anthony blindly fired a shot in the air in reaction.

“Ahh!!!” Rosaria screamed, fearing for her life.

To be continued next week.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Missed the 1st episode? Read it here =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib
Episode #2 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib002
Episode #3 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib003
Episode #4 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib004
Episode #5 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib005
Episode #6 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib006
Episode #7 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib007
Last week’s episode #8 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib008

This is a fictional, weekly web-story, based on true events.

I offered to incorporate subscribers emails for advice in the weekly #BreakfastInBed stories as a way for them to anonymously ask people worldwide for advice on their situations.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”
Facebook.com/AEAseem
IG: @Fuel4TheBODY

Posted in Breakfast In Bed | Tagged breakfast in bed, Ebrahim Aseem | Leave a comment

The public school system HATES Free Thinkers

Posted on May 14, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

Educators LOVE free thinkers. But the U.S Public School system was created as part of a Trilogy of Mind Control, to discourage free thinking, pineal gland activation & limit the intelligent mind of a person, from elementary to undergraduate. This includes: Health Care (via Kaiser), Mass Media (via T.V.) & Public Academia (via schools & university).

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

EDUCATE (v.) means = to bring something out of a crop or seed. To reap sown seeds. To harvest. To cultivate. a Mind is a seed.

The mind must be cultivated (educated) via counsel. Sadly, this does not take place in public schools & universities.

The goal of public school & public undergrad university is primarily to remove critical thought from a child, then incept a child’s mind with academia & waste eight hours of their day they could spend being creatively brilliant, perfecting their craft of blueprint drafting, dance, chemistry, singing, coding analytics, sketching to design clothes, learning to cook, nutrition, do hair, play an instrument, mock trails.

Many universities goal isn’t you graduating in four years, you taking unnecessary prerequisites as long you pay tuition. This conflict of interest & student loans destroying your credit would have one question if public universities & the department of treasury are working as a syndicate.

Sensory stimulation directly promotes intellectual growth & pineal gland activation via frontal cortex stimulation. Systematic oppression in public universities is done intentionally to create sheep-like robots, who social security number is their barcode.

The goal of Health Care is to carry out medical warfare, and the weapon is legal pharmaceuticals. The name “Kaiser” is derived from the gens (clan) Julia, to which belonged Gaius Julius Caesar, the godfather of the first Roman imperial army.

One sword can wipe out an army. One vaccine can wipe out an entire nation of people. Are all vaccines bad? Hell NO! just the poisonous ones. There is more mercury & live viruses in an “amazing” immunization vaccine than there is in an actual virus itself.

Yet, what is more harmful: The poisonous drug injected into the body? or the poisonous drug injected into the mind?

TV is an outstandingly entertaining, very addictive drug used to control the mind & spark consumerism. Through fiber-optics, our TV transmits a frequency that affects us on a sub-atomic level.

These frequencies are known as talismans & are used very carefully by corporations & the media in the same way product placement is used in a movie to sell us a product.

TV is used to sell us an idea.
To mnemonically spark certain emotions in the mind. Some people cannot fall asleep, unless the TV is left on all night. Are you watching the idiot box? or does the idiot box watch you?

Even if it’s just the new additions menu from Netflix or the screen saver from the Blu-ray player, the subconscious mind becomes addicted to the Talisman frequencies the TV/device projects. The subconscious mind becomes a slave to it.

Even when the TV is off, it is still plugged in, it can transmit frequency to the mind, Like a FM station a transmits frequency to a radio. This is one of the greatest forms of mind control.

One would rather miss a family member’s birthday party than to miss an episode of Game Of Thrones. A woman refuses to have any drama in her life, yet religiously watches every episode of Love & Hip Hop or Basketball Wives, because she loves to watch the drama in others lives. It does not mean she loves drama & messiness. Her subconscious mind is addicted to the suspense. Mind control at it’s finest.

Those who are not mentally awake will laugh at wisdom like this. One would call knowledge like this fake, yet swear their favorite reality show or fantasy show is real. These are zombies. The walking dead. Living bodies with dead minds.

Great minds are pushed to settle for the norm by the creatively mediocre who FEAR intelligent, SELF thinking people

Education is essential to the mind, but only true education can free the mind, from the prison of academia.

Health care is important, yet legal drugs only take away the symptoms, while ensuring the sickness remains, to make the patient a repeat costumer. Only by HEALing thy self can one break free of mind control.

TV can show you every fake thing going on in the fake lives of your favorite celebrities, but the revolution will not be televised.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”
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IG: @Fuel4TheBODY
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Why I’d marry anyone EXCEPT a Black Woman

Posted on May 7, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

I like conversing with deep thinking, classy Black men. Not all of us are ignorant. Not all of us disrespect women & live off women. There are strong, tall, well-groomed, black men who know how to think deep & be a LEADER for a Woman who can appreciate & respect his aggressive manliness. A woman who will honor him, build with him & speak to him with respect.”

“…and that ‘woman’ is anyone, except a Black woman,” a Black man interjected.

“Why do you think so many brothas leave their Black baby momma & kids, go get them a Becky & have a couple curly-haired, mixed kids with hair you can slide a comb through? It’s, because Black women don’t treat you like a man. They speak to you like a boy. Always hit you with an attitude, like they’re mad at the world. Y’all niggas better diversify your dating portfolio. Sticking with these sistas will leave you broke, frustrated, with bad credit & a bunch of nappy headed kids.”

“I gotta call bullshit on your whole stupid ass monologue bruh,” I disagreed. Me & my boys decided to step out & watch the Warriors playoff game at a sports lounge. Unbeknownst to me, the adult beverages were not the strongest spirits I would be digesting that night, rather, the spirit of self hate that inhabited the hearts of a handful of Black male friends, who were friends of friends. I cracked pistachios open as I kicked knowledge to this tall, Black man with long, neat dreads & a wedding band on his finger.

“Why, Mr. ‘Why I still date Black women’?” Neat Dreads asked me. “Oh, I read your shit. I respect what you’re tryna do, motivating women & all. But, these sistas will hold you back man, I’m telling you.”

“How can you bad mouth a Black woman when you were raised by one?” I asked him. “The reason why I refuse to stop dating Black women, like you have, is because despite all our mistakes, shortcomings, sins & flaws, Black women refuse to give up on us brothas. So, I will never give up on our sistas. I will marry a Black woman one day. Then, I will raise a Black girl into a woman, teaching her to love herself & never apologize for being made by the creator to be who she is. The color of your skin has nothing to do with how you behave in a relationship.

Women of all races are beautiful. And that includes our own bruh.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you how Black women always have to question things & interrogate your every move like her whole life is an SVU episode?”

“A woman who respectfully questions everything only irritates a man who has something to hide,” I replied. “If we are as genuine of a man as we portray ourself to her via texts, dates & social networks, our genuine intentions will hold up to strong questioning.

A woman will test you. She sits back & peeps everything. Cross references texts you send today with texts you sent 95 days ago to see if you’re a man of consistency. Don’t mistake a respectful woman’s questioning for being difficult. She can spot red flags from miles away.

Black women intrinsically posses this ability in their DNA, from thousands of years as soldiers in Amazon-esque, African-all-female armies, where she’d use intuition to spot red flags in sleeper agents & deceptive barters.

Serve her honesty consistently & she will feed you a level of affection, respect & love greater than you’ve ever had from a woman. Starve her of attention & commitment, and she’ll get up & dine at a more consistent table.”

“Man, how can these sassy mouthed Black women serve you respect, or feed you anything? Shit, they can’t even cook,” Neat Dreads snapped back.

“Black women baby you. Make excuses for your mistakes. And they ignore red flags my G. My baby mamma let me live with her for 13 months, rent free. I didn’t do chores, pay bills, buy food or babysit my sons. She did it all.

And I had to realize, a Black woman will only bring you down & hold you to the lowest of standards, as a tactic to keep a man, like a crab in a bucket. She knows if she motivates you to pursue your ambitions, you will exceed them & leave her for a White Woman, Asian woman, shit anything except a Black woman with a sista-girl attitude.”

“First of all my G,” I retorted, mocking his slang, “all women treat a man to the level of which he carries himself. If you throw tantrums like a little boy, posses the mentality of an adolescent, lack the authority, leadership &’providing abilities of a man, & sag your pants like a toddler’s saggy, do-do diaper, how the hell can you expect a woman to treat you like a man?”

“Ohhhhhh,” a couple of men reacted, instigating our debate.

“Secondly,” I continued. “Speaking with a Smart mouthed or attitude is not exclusive to Black women. Women of all races do it.

A White Woman is not your doormat. She will regally speak her mind at all times, & be submissive only to the Holy Spirit who created her for man, not man for her.

An asian woman is not your submissive servant. She will stand up for herself & remain loyal only to whoever can respect her.

An Indian woman is not your inferior. She will remain committed to her standards & honor only those who show her honor & value her integrity.

A Latin woman is not your little girl. She will hold to her values, & speak her heart, no matter what any man thinks of it. And she will affectionately adore only genuine men who can support this fully.

A Black woman is not your bitch, your property, your slave. She will ride for you when you behave, lift up her voice for truth when you need to hear it, support you like no other.

We must check ourselves, calling a woman smart mouth or difficult, when we as men speak more harsh, difficult & disrespectful to our OWN women than they do to us.

Don’t call a woman: bruh, bro, dude, or nigga. That is disrespectful, smart mouthed, difficult, & honestly, it’s suspect as hell. She’s a woman. Honor her femininity.

That woman you keep starving of loyalty, affection, attention & commitment is somebody’s wife. Honor her while you have her. Just because a woman loves you, does not mean she won’t hesitate to leave you once she realizes all you can offer her are arguments, immaturity & inconsistency.

“Somebody’s wife?” Neat Dreads mocked, “are you serious right now?
Black women are not raised to be wives. They grow up in fatherless homes, daddy cheated on momma, had a baby by every woman on the block, so all she knows how to be is a Side Chick at worst, or a Strong Single Mother at best. Trust me, I was raised by one.

A sista is who you side chick while you’re getting your money together or wanna have a baby or two. Another race is who you marry when you’re ready to build an empire & raise children.”

“Your opinions reek of self-hatred,” I responded. “If you leave the Black mother of your children to playhouse with a woman of another race & play daddy to her children, while your Black children starve of consistent meals & the love of their father, you clearly hate yourself & your Black mother.

I know a Black man who’s been married to a White woman for 11 years, they have two children & he’s a loving father to those children. But, he also is an amazing father to his Black daughter from a previous marriage. And he does not bad talk his child’s Black mother. He instils confidence in his Black daughter to love herself & I think that’s beautiful.

Love has no race. Spirits have no race. But, if you feel leaving your child’s Black mother for any other race is an upgrade, because she is Black, you bring shame to not just your Black mother. You bring shame to your non-Black wife. When you disrespect a Black woman, you disrespect EVERY woman. No genuine woman of any race finds misogyny & woman slander attractive.”

“Mis-og-any,” Neat Dreads mocked, “How is stating facts misogyny? Even my White wife told me, she had to teach all her EXs how to be catered to, because Black women tend to neglect catering to their men.

Every other race of women know how to honor their man, be submissive to their man, let their man lead. But Black women want to BE the man. She wants to lead, make all the decisions & be the head by herself. that’s why all these Black women are unmarried or in unhappy marriages. They don’t know how to let a man be a man. They can handle a boyfriend, but they don’t know what to do with a husband, like a White, Asian or Hindu woman. That’s why I’d date anyone, expect a Black woman. I ain’t falling for the okie doke.”

“Black women do not want to be the man, wear the pants, or assume the father role,” I replied, “WE are the ones who force them to take our place, leaving her to raise a child alone, after we made her a single mother. We are the ones who turn our back on our sistas, when the world ridicules their natural hair & natural ability to speak their mind, while they emulate their full lips & plump derriere.

We are the ones who will be with a Black woman for two years, while she prays for us, supports our ambitions, backs our dreams while we starve her of faithful commitment. Then, once we finally make get the position, money & prominence she helped us attain, we leave her behind & chose another to benefit off of the man she helped build up.

All these Russell Simmons, Kanye Wests & Michael Jordan dump the sistas who held them down when they had nothing & these ‘brothas’ do not even have our back when our lives our being stolen by police, like an unamred Rekia Boyd.

Black women do honor their man. Black women are soldiers for us. They are on the battle field, fighting for their lives everyday, while these punk ass bad cops try to take our lives away. Where are your Kim Ks? Some of these women can date Black men, take Black dick, but can’t take a stance against systematic oppression & police brutality against Black men.

Do you know who Marylin Mosby is? She’s the Maryland State Attorney who has put her life & career on the line to defend not just an unarmed Black man who was murdered in Freddie Gray. This young sista is making a statement as a member of the judicial system that Black life is just as valuable as all life.”

“Ain’t that the nappy-headed hoe who overcharged them cops in Baltimore?” Neat Dreads joked, “shiiiiiiiiit, I heard them talking about her on Fox News Radio. She’s just looking for attention so her hubby can run for office.”

“You ‘ole Uncle Tom ass mark,” I fired back, “don’t ever fix your lips to refer to a woman of any color as a hoe in front of me. I got sisters. You know, we call women hoes all day long, only to stick our penis in every hole all night long, but she’s a hoe. You got a half a dozen children by four different women? Who are you calling a hoe? You’re the hoe.

Then, you’re gonna call a sista you’ve obviously near seen, met, let alone heard speak, a ‘nappy-head-hoe. First off, her hair is laid. Just like you’ll be laid – out on the floor if you say another disrespectful thing about a Black woman, Marylin Mosby, or any woman in front of me again. And even if her hair was nappy, you got a problem with natural hair? Your wannabe Lenox Lewis lookin’ ass?

If you’re un-aroused by the natural wit of a woman’s speech, the natural kink of her hair, you may be uncomfortable in your own sexuality. A woman’s hair, shape or shade does not define her. Don’t decline her worth in your mind. She’s not some object to be judged by you, or appraised. She’s a virtuous woman to be praised

All virtuous women are queens. I love all women. and certainly,
I love Black women.
Queens. Virtuous; goddesses. I love sistas.

Brown skin is beautiful. Don’t believe me, know it.
Own it! Be acquiescent to a young poet.
Who’s mother is the same shade. What a gorgeous apparatus.
Work of painted, on the face, of a brown canvas.
You’re a queen, because your bills stay paid,
your hair stays laid, your outfits stay slayed.

Despite flaws projected in the reflection of your iris.
Your over critical view of your physical is blinded.
Binded with confessions of you being a perfectionist,
be receptive, your complexion is a blessing.

I know they touch all on your hair, tryna pet it like it ‘pur’
Tell them, “I’m a lion queen, but it ain’t fur.”
Naturalistas, I love you.
Shea butter on ya skin tone,
makes me want to snatch you out the friend zone.

I love Black women, let it marinate.
You we appreciate, queen of the universe,
you carry weight, of the world on your back,
because you do it all alone & it’s hard to take.
And it you ain’t black don’t hate,
just know you emulate everything we create, wait.
Don’t mistake this for shade,
whatever shade you are, you’re great; I just love sistas.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

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These poetic lyrics are from Ebrahim Aseem’s newest single “Shea Butter”. Click above to hear or download FREE.

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Posted in Thought Provoking Articles | Tagged BLACK WOMEN, Ebrahim Aseem, kim kardashian, Marilyn Mosby, michael jordan, russell simmons, why black men hate black women, Why do Black men leave black women for white women | 35 Comments

No matter how much she loves you, she won’t stay loyal to an inconsistent man | Breakfast in Bed Ep.8

Posted on April 30, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

My twin sister India is NOT dead!” Rosaria replied to the officers, with a cracked voice & confused expression.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I assumed you already knew,” the officer responded, lowering his weapon. He put the safety on, returned his gun to its holster & pulled out an electronic device.

“Is this dead body your sister India’s,” the officer asked, showing Rosaria the picture.

“Oh my God!” Rosaria screamed once she saw it was India. “It’s her! It’s her, oh my God, oh my God!”

Rosaria leaned her back against the wall, slid down it, & curled up in a ball to cry.

“Ma’am, I understand this is a remarkably difficult time for you,” the officer explained, “but we need to find…”

“Remarkably difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Rosaria replied, looking up at the officer. “I just learned my sister is dead & you’re telling me my brother is responsible for killing her, our boss & our boss’ lover? But, it’s not enough to watch me cry, slob & grieve on the floor like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. You now want me to tell you where my brother is, a man I haven’t seen since I was a little girl. What kind of insensitive, unprofessional, bullies are you?”

“Ma’am, I understand you’re grieving,” the officer replied, “and our heart goes out to you. But what we need right now is your complete cooper…”

“No, what I need from you right now is space,” Rosaria replied, fighting off tears, “and what you need right now is to do your damn job and find the person responsible for taking my sister’s life. She’s all I had in this world & now she’s gone.”

Rosaria begin crying hysterically. The officer shook his head uncomfortably.

“Look guys,” the officer ordered his backup silently, “we need to get her a hotel room & on suicide watch asap. I don’t think she’s in any condition to help us right now.

Two of the officers escorted Rosaria to an unmarked car with two plain clothed detectives inside. They drove Rosaria to the Marriott hotel, booked her a room & escorted her inside. Once they left the room, she called her mother.

Breakfast in Bed: Episode 8
By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Gloria kept glancing at her daughter India, who was alive, yet unconscious in the backseat. She positioned her rear view mirror so she could see both her daughter, who she’d just drugged & any police cars behind her.

India’s consciousness was in a dream like state. As far as her brain knew, she was asleep. So it did what it had been doing every night for the past six weeks: replay memories of her encounters with the love of her life, Anthony.

The first memory India dreamed about was the first time she ever asked a man for his number Anthony approached India six weeks earlier, but at that time, India was in a committed relationship with J.R. After finding out J.R. cheated, despite how much she loved him, despite him being her first love, she refused to stay loyal to his inconsistency. So, India dumped him, allowing an opportunity for her crush Anthony to approach her again. Once he did, she asked for his number to let him know she was available. His response took India’ breath away:

“You’re damn right you can have my number,” Anthony obliged. “Under one condition.

I want you to know that whoever he is, however long he’s known you &
no matter how much you think he loves you, I promise you, I can love you better.
The chemistry we share is undeniable. My attraction to you extends far beyond your physical beauty.
The way your face lights up when you speak about your passions truly attracts my aura to yours.
The way joy oozes out your pores when you ramble endlessness about all your ambitions,
all pain you’ve endured & all your future has in store, that inspires me.

I know you over think, but you dream big.
You got the soul of an old woman, with the enthusiasm of a little kid.
I want to be the calm to keep the constantly roaring tides of your over thinking mind at bay,
while simultaneously pouring gasoline on the burning fire that is your big dreams.
You work of art you. You imperfect masterpiece you.
I want to gaze inside the mirror to your soul and,
admire the beautiful thoughts painted & stained on the inner canvas of your brain.
I know you fight demons in the dark corners of your mind,
but if you give me your hand & give me your time,
I will walk hand & hand with you confidently as your peace, your light,
your demons I will help you fight, with all of my might. I will let you help me fight mine.

I will not hide my flaws from you.
Growing to be a better man, growing closer to you, that’s all I want to do.
I know somewhere, in the deep shadows of your heart, you still love him.
Just know, I can love you better.
And if you allow yourself to be open & feel the same,
I promise I will love you so deeply, reassure you so consistently, you will forget his name.
When I see what I want, I claim,
and you beautiful, you give me all I have ever wanted in life. Peace.”

Anthony grabbed India’s phone from off the table and put his number in her contacts. Remembering this in her dream state caused a smile to appear on India’s face. When her mother Gloria saw India smile, she swerved the car in surprise.

“The ether can’t be wearing off that quickly,” Gloria mumbled under her breath, “I used double the amount I used on Cynthia.

The second memory India’s mind replayed for her while she lay in dream state was her first date with Anthony just hours earlier. He took her to chakra yoga, fresh pasta & a walk on the boardwalk. They conversed about everything from art, music, movie trivia, politics to the failure of local government to indite police officers who murder unarmed Black citizens. Yet, the most steamy topic the lovebirds discussed was sexual history. More specifically, body counts.

“Did you really sleep with over 25 women before your twenty-fifth birthday?” India asked as they strolled by the water.

“What, do you think that was a pick-up line to get you to like me?” Anthony joked, inconspicuously grabbing India’s hand to hold as they walked.

“No, it just seems improbable,” India replied. “I mean, you are fine & all, but damn. Twenty-five is a lot of vaginas for one man to have had in his mouth.”

“Who says they all made it to my mouth?” Anthony responded with a laugh.

“Oh, so you don’t eat the cat?” India joked, “it’s no wonder you’ve been dumped twenty-five times.

“You’re hilarious,” Anthony replied, laughing out loud. “So let’s say I’ve never dined on pearl cuisine, would you still want to date me?”

“Well, it would be a waste of those big, juicy, dark brown lips of yours,” India replied with a sarcastic smirk, “but, you do make me feel so special. And you intrigue my mind on such an intellectual level. So yes, I would still want to date you if you didn’t dine on pearl cuisine. You would just have to be willing for me to help you acquire a taste for it. Don’t let the cute face fool you. I’m a lady in these here streets, but in bed, I like for a man to take control of my body, and that includes head.”

“Woman,” Anthony replied to India, holding both of her hands after they stopped walking.

“You don’t want to date me. Trust. I’m not as gentle of a man as you think.
In the bed I’m rough. Aggressive as fuck. I like to manhandle a girl and make her submissive to me in the bedroom. I like choking a girl. Slapping & biting her ass & thighs. Wrapping her fucking hair around my hands & pulling that shit. Talking shit & getting vulgar with my deep voice in her ear. Tongue kissing her lower lips, while treating her body like a fucking rag doll. Call me crazy, but I like a woman who can take a little pain & find her pleasure from it.”

India’s knees buckled. She began squeezing Anthony’s hands with both of hers, shivering at the sight his words painted on the canvas of her vivid imagination.

“Damn, you’re a nasty boy, ain’t you,” she replied in an impressed tone. “I love how confident you are. You actually think you can handle me.”

“Oh, I think I can handle you?” Anthony laughed.

“Did I stutter,” India replied with a smirk on her face, passion in her eyes & a smart mouthed disposition on her tongue. “Some guys really think women are their own personal playthings. They think women exist solely for their pleasure.

Well, some girls may think they have to play this helpless little girl of a role to keep a man, but I don’t. I know my worth. I know what I bring to the table. I’m comfortable in my sexuality. I notice you didn’t ask how many men I’ve slept with. Apparently, it doesn’t matter to you, which is refreshing. But, I want you to know. You’ll be the tenth man I sleep with, if you play your cards right.

A lot of guys think good dick is just about size, just about girth. But good dick is more than that, it is about how obedient that dick can be. Sleeping with 25 women doesn’t make you a man. Being choosy about who you ease your manhood inside makes you a man. Is your dick obedient to your mind, or is your mind obedient to your dick head?

Obedient dick is good dick, loyal to only one woman. Sometimes a woman of strength wants her man of valor to make her obedient to that good dick. Slapping the mouth of our lower lips with it to make our pearl stand at attention. Sometimes a woman wants to make that dick obey her. To jump at the thought of her. To grow at the sight of her. To throb in her naked presence. Good dick is obedient to only the woman who owns it. If and when you become my boyfriend, trust me, It would mean only I will own your good dick, and it will be obedient to me.”

India could feel Anthony’s heart beating outside of his chest, through his pulse by holding both of his hands.

“The sharp, smart mouth with which you speak may have been such a problem to boys in your past, but the only thing it does to me is turn me the fuck on,” Anthony assured India.

“If you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t be sweet with you in bed at all. I would be so rough with you & that soft ass, banging mutha fuckin’ body. I would aggressively manhandle your body, bring you pain & MAKE you go DEEP in that DARK pain to find your pleasure from it.

Notice I said ‘make’. I won’t ask. I won’t tell you to do something, I will fuckin’ make you do it. Say it ONCE in my deep aggressive voice & if you don’t listen, just know, that’s your ass. I will never call you outside of your name. Nor have I ever disrespected a woman by calling her out her name outside of the bedroom, but once we are in that bedroom, trust on your life
I will MAKE you my bitch.

But you better make my dick your bitch. Sometimes, a strong man of valor wants his woman to take control of his throbbing manhood like a boss. Choke it with the tight grip of the dripping walls inside your lower lips. Bitch slap my dick up against the wall of your ass cleavage. Punish it with the clapping frequency of your back shots. Swallow it whole & own it with your throat, like a boss.”

Remembering this in her dream state caused a moan to escape India’s vocal cords.

When Gloria heard her daughter India make a moan-like-sound, she swerved the car again, this time pulling on the side of the road. She made sure no other cars were on the road, then proceeded to pull her unconscious daughter out of the car, leaning her up against the rocks.

Gloria held the ether dipped napkin up to her daughter nose & mouth, yet again. Next, she snapped a picture of her unconscious daughter, who now had blood dripping down the side of her head, & emailed that picture to the local police department from her untraceable track phone. She then drug her daughter back inside the car & drove off.

Thirty-five minutes later, Gloria heard her phone ringing. When she glanced at it & saw it was her other twin daughter Rosaria, she clicked ‘ignore call’ & kept driving.

“I know she didn’t just screen my phone call,” Rosaria complained out loud.

Rosaria could tell her mother was screening her call, because when you call someone & they click ‘ignore call’, the call immediately stops ringing & abruptly goes to voicemail. Apparently, most people Gloria’s age & older’s ‘ignore-call-game’ is not on point. Even a child knows, when someone calls who, you don’t want to talk to, don’t press ‘ignore call’. Simply allow the call to go to voicemail in its natural time & the caller will not know you just ignored their ass.

“Is everything ok?” a female officer yelled, unlocking the hotel room door with her card key. “I just heard you yelling at someone.”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Rosaria explained. “I was just talking to myself. Who are you?”

“My name is officer Garciaparra,” the female officer explained. “I’m just here to make sure you stay protected.

“You mean stay protected from myself,” Rosaria paraphrased.

“No,” Officer Garciaparra answered, “I’m just…”

“Bam!” was the sound Rosaria heard before Officer Garciaparra could finish her sentence. When Rosaria looked at the officer’s face, she noticed a red hole on her forehead that wasn’t there before. It was a bullet hole. The officer’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body collapsed to the ground. Once the officer fell, Rosaria could clearly see the person who’d just shot the officer, standing in the hotel door way, holding a gun & wearing white gloves.

“Ahhhhh!” Rosaria screamed at the sight of the killer’s face. “It’s you!”

To be continued next Thursday…
By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Missed the 1st episode? Read it here =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib
Episode #2 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib002
Episode #3 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib003
Episode #4 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib004
Episode #5 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib005
Episode #6 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib006
Last week’s episode #7 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib007

This is a fictional, weekly web-story, based on true events.

I offered to incorporate subscribers emails for advice in the weekly #BreakfastInBed stories as a way for them to anonymously ask people worldwide for advice on their situations.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”
Facebook.com/AEAseem
IG: @Fuel4TheBODY

Posted in Breakfast In Bed | Tagged breakfast in bed | 2 Comments

Bloods & Crips team up to fight Police Brutality in Baltimore. Media won’t show Black Unity

Posted on April 27, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

Notoriously known for their supposed longstanding beef, the opposing Bloods and Crips joined forces in Baltimore Saturday in solidarity against the biggest gang force in America: cops who engage in police brutality.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

The rivals agreed to a truce, marching together in response to the death of 25-year-old Freddie Gray who died in police custody. He suffered fatal injuries at the hands of the police during his April 12 arrest and died as a result of those injuries a week later.

“I can say with honesty those brothers demonstrated they can be united for a common good,” Carlos Muhammad, a minister at Nation of Islam’s Mosque No. 6, told The Daily Beast. “At the rally, they made the call that they must be united on that day. It should be commended.”

Mass media refuse to show what they fear: Black Unity.

CNN, Fox News & mass media have been showing & reporting the riots only, yet refusing to show the PEACEFUL PROTESTING. In reality, the looters are NOT with the protestors at all. In fact, many looters are not even from the city of Baltimore. Mass media wants the narrative to be “violent Blacks acting out yet again, disrupting masa’s plantation“.

Jan. 9th 2015 my 20 y/o nephew & 20y/o cousin were murdered execution style in a parked car with 2 other black men in San Francisco, CA.

The SF police refuse to continue the investigation, despite bragging through private texts they know who killed them. The SF police department has come under scrutiny after cops’ private texts were leaked of them saying, “all Niggers deserve to hang” claiming their murders don’t deserve to be solved.

I’m disgusted & fighting for justice, I pray for justice for my grieving sister losing her son & for Freddie Gray’s family & any mother or father who has to bury their child.

Click on the picture below for the full article.

https://twitter.com/brielenaa/status/584013222098927617

Posted in Thought Provoking Articles | Tagged Baltimore, Ebrahim Aseem, Freddie Gray | Leave a comment

Baltimore Police Admit They Made Deadly Mistakes in Freddie Gray Murder. 34 arrest as 100s protest for him. Only 50 protest for Rekia Boyd

Posted on April 26, 2015 by Ebrahim Aseem

Police in Baltimore say that 34 people were arrested and six police officers received “minor injuries” in protests Saturday afternoon and evening over the death in custody of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old black man. Police said, otherwise the demonstrations had been “mostly peaceful.”

Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake and 24 Baltimore faith leaders issued a “Call for Peace” on Sunday, calling on citizens to honor the city’s “long tradition of peaceful and respectful demonstrations.”

Baltimore Police Commissioner admits Freddie Gray was not buckled in during ride and police failed to get him medical attention in timely manner

Police said a number of shop fronts were vandalized and several police vehicles damaged.

Later today, mourners are expected to gather at a North Baltimore funeral home in a wake to remember Gray, who died April 19 — a week after his arrest. He led officers on a foot chase and reportedly sustained a fatal spinal cord injury at the time of his arrest or while he was being transported without a seat belt in a police van.

Anthony Batts, the city’s police commissioner, acknowledged on Friday that Gray did not receive timely medical attention for his spinal injury.

https://instagram.com/p/106EC1Jnqh/

Click on the picture below for the full article.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Ebrahim Aseem, Freddie Gray, Police brutality, police murder black man, Rekia Boyd | Leave a comment

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Baltimore Police Admit They Made Deadly Mistakes in Freddie Gray Murder. 34 arrest as 100s protest for him. Only 50 protest for Rekia Boyd

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