AfroerotiK

Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Color Blind


Every day is a beautiful day when you have piece of mind. The sun shines brighter, the birds sing louder, and every step is more assured. Well, theoretically, every step is supposed to be more assured. As luck would have it, Tim Mentira tripped on a patch of broken sidewalk and had to go to the hospital to get an x-ray for his wrist. They put one of those Plexiglas casts on it and gave him instructions to go to physical therapy to make an appointment when the cast was removed. As is the case in most hospitals, they make you sit and wait and wait and wait and after hours of endless waiting, they make you sit and wait some more. The Tim of old would have been frustrated and annoying, driving every doctor, nurse, orderly, and candy striper in the place crazy with incessant demands and infuriating rants of how his time was too precious to wait. The new and improved Tim, the calm and self-assured Tim, was content to read decade-old issues of Sports Illustrated about Jordan and an unstoppable new golf phenom named Tiger.

So engrossed was he in some obscure article, he barely looked up to see a young lady sitting across from him in the waiting room. Tim gave her the ubiquitous silent nod and a wave but it was returned with a blank stare. A twinge of insecurity crept up on him for a brief second and, taking a deep breath, he went back to minding his business reading his magazine, waiting for the physical therapy nurse to come with his release papers.

“Hello, is anyone there? Can someone help me please?” Tim looked up. “I’m sorry. Someone was supposed to come get me and take me back to my room but I think they forgot about me. Do you think it would be possible for you to find a nurse for me?”

Tim looked very closely again. She was a very lovely Black woman with a complexion the color of cocoa and her hair neatly done in goddess braids. Her thin legs hung limply down in her wheelchair. The woman seemed to be staring at one particular spot; there was no dance in her eyes, no eye contact. “Sure, let me check at the nurses station for you,” Tim said, as he made his way to see if he could find some assistance for her. He returned only moments later with bad news that someone said that they would be there shortly which meant that they would be there at a quarter to never. “I’ve been sitting here over an hour waiting for my release papers myself, reading really old magazines. Would you care for one?”

She laughed. “I’m afraid a magazine wouldn’t do me much good. I have a rare neurological disorder that renders me temporarily blind and at times paralyzed from the waist down and now happens to be one of those times when I’m blessed with both.”

Tim stumbled all over himself apologizing. He had sort of figured that she might have been unable to see but he didn’t want to assume. Now, he had wished he had erred on the side of safety and not said anything at all. He sat in silence again, embarrassed by his faux pas. He studied her more intently now, knowing she didn’t know he was looking at her. He took in her delicate features, tried to put a story behind her façade.

There was a rather recent copy of Essence magazine in the piles, perhaps left behind by someone. Tim picked it up and commented on the cover. “Terry McMillan sure seems to be getting a lot of press from her situation. Couldn’t have come at a better time with her new book out. I don’t know, I think she knew he was gay all along. I mean . . . come on.”

She grunted, “Terry McMillan needs any publicity stunt she can to cover up the fact that she’s an addict. It shows in her public appearances and it shows in her already mediocre writing.” The pair laughed and exchanged names. It seems Dr. Gloria Crowder was a professor of African American Literature at Xavier University in Louisiana and she was pretty unapologetic in her critique. Tim introduced himself and the two began discussing favorite passages from Black classics and metaphors for obscure poetry that most people hadn’t heard of. The pair was really hitting it off when the nurse finally came to take Gloria back to her room.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Tim, you really made the time fly.” She held out her hand and Tim placed his hardened cast to her small hand. They laughed and said their goodbyes.

Tim couldn’t get her out of his mind however. They had shared so much in common, the conversation was so effortless. It was no surprise that before 24 hours was over; Tim was back at the hospital, paying a visit to his new friend. He brought a portable CD player and a stack of audio books along with some of his own poetry he had written. He tapped tentatively on the door, afraid that he would be perceived as a stalker, and cleared his throat. Gloria was lying quietly in bed, her face turned towards the sun, looking rather angelic. Ramsey Lewis would have been inspired. “I thought maybe you could . . .”

He was cut off before he could finish. “Tim! It’s so good to see you. I was hoping you would come.” Her face seemed to light up, show expression. Tim beamed with joy. He showed her how to use her new presents and arranged them for her so she could get to them without any help in her top drawer. He felt rather heroic, saving the queen from the horrid fate of boredom. He also felt rather confident. To his new friend, he could be tall and handsome, even black. She couldn’t see what he looked like so Tim was free to be who he thought she wanted him to be. He didn’t lie to her; he just wasn’t very truthful either. He reasoned that as long as he didn’t really say he was black it wasn’t really a lie. It was a sort of don’t ask, don’t tell policy, one he thought he needed to overcome his insecurities with approaching black women.

It was a sound policy that lasted the better part of six weeks. Tim became a regular fixture at the hospital. Every day he would bring more books and read to Gloria and they would debate until well after visiting hours about the dialect poetry of Paul Lawrence Dunbar and the writings of Ralph Ellison and about the absolutely horrific crop of new writers passing as authors. She would dictate notes to him from a novel she was working on and he would become her eyes. He would be waiting for her to return to her room when she got back from physical therapy, help her back to bed, and even take over for the regular nurses in her care.

Good news came for both of them at the same time. Tim’s cast was going to be removed and Gloria was going to be released from the hospital at the same time. FEMA has made arrangements for her to have a furnished apartment locally while her apartment in New Orleans was being renovated. Of course, Tim was there to offer his assistance in whatever way he could and offered to get the place ready for her homecoming. The apartment was shabby, a little short on the chic. He went all out, cleaning and painting and buying furnishings to make it nice for his friend. As much as he wanted to call her his girlfriend, he couldn’t. Not with the secret between them. He was pretty sure that she knew. He’d been honest with her about everything else. He’d shared secrets with her that he’d only told one other person. She was a very intelligent woman, she had to know. As long as it wasn’t said, Tim felt like he had a security blanket. In his mind, Gloria was infatuated with a black man and if he told her the truth, she wouldn’t like him any more. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to live with the lie but he wasn’t about to ruin the best relationship he’d ever had before.

The day she was released from the hospital, Tim helped her make it up the three little stairs to her temporary home. She went in first and he went back to the car to get her bags and finish parking the car. When he returned, her face was lit up. “Oh Tim, it’s beautiful! I can’t believe what you did with the place. It’s lovely.”

Tim was beaming with joy. He’d made her happy and that was a feeling like none other. It was almost a full minute before he realized what it meant. His heart dropped. “How . . . how long have you been able to see?”

“Oh, goodness, it comes and goes. Why?” She’d never imagined that Tim was trying to hide his identity from her; she’d known almost from the beginning he was white so she just assumed he was expressing apprehension over his appearance. It had never occurred to her that he was trying to hide his race. That seemed too incomprehensible to even fathom. She wanted to reassure him that her attraction to him was real but she just waited for his response. She was equally as confused as he was distraught.

Tim went to the wine cellar, well actually the refrigerator, and got out the bottle of white wine he had bought to celebrate. He poured her a glass and poured out his heart. He admitted that he was hiding behind the truth, that he was afraid that not only would she not be attracted to him if she knew he was white but also that he would never be able to satisfy her sexually, to be able to be the man she needed. She represented everything he wanted in a woman and everything he was afraid he couldn’t have. She was strong, beautiful, and self-assured and she was Black. She was a demure and vulnerable woman who was his intellectual match and who was confident in her identity. She seemed so strong willed yet so fragile.

His emotions ran the gamut from shame to hurt and confusion. All sorts of insecurities flooded him and he began to retreat back into hostile, lying, attack-mode in anticipation of her rejection of him. He accused her of being deceitful, of pretending to be helpless in order to use him. He was ready for the other shoe to drop, for Gloria to say, “How could you think that I would ever want you?” In that moment, Tim was blinded by his own dysfunction and he did the only thing he knew how to do, hurt, himself, and those he cared about.

Gloria was dumbfounded. Never had she expected such a revelation nor had she expected the vicious attack that had followed. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to regain her composure and she politely asked him to leave. She was devastated by his attack on her and she had no intention of continuing to be the object of his unfounded assault, no matter how much she had grown to care for him.

Tim knew the moment he stepped outside the door and heard it close behind him that he’d fucked up big time. He sat in his car for over an hour, talking to himself, yelling at himself for being so stupid and trying to figure out a way to fix things. He knew that if he was ever going to be free, he had to go back and fix things. He knocked on the door and waited.

Gloria opened the door wearing a satin robe that she’d changed into. It was apparent she’d been crying. He walked in without any words being said and sat on the sofa. He began pouring out his heart and soul, confessing his sins and repenting. Before he knew what was happening, he was crying uncontrollable tears. He was releasing pain from a lifetime of dysfunction. Gloria held him close and cradled him in her arms. Exhausted and drained, Tim lay quietly as she stroked his hair and sang softly to him. Her soothing voice comforted him.

Tim was at peace, finally free. He opened his eyes and looked at the face of his beloved. It was as if he was seeing her for the very first time, his blinders of dysfunction had been removed.

It was now Gloria’s time to speak. “Tim, I’m not real sure what just happened here today. I can only speak for myself. It seems like you convinced yourself that I would never be attracted to you if you were white and you created some sort of reality where you ignored the evidence that I could see you. The person I’m attracted to can quote Marimba Ani and John Henrick Clarke. The person I’m attracted to has the same taste in music as I do, from Earth Wind and Fire and Stevie Wonder to Kem and Jill Scott. The person I’m attracted to took such good care of me and made me feel special every day. I’m not sure where this relationship is going to go but I’m sure I’m interested in letting it play out its natural course. As for your other concerns, about . . . you know, not satisfying me sexually, that’s ridiculous.”

“But I’m not hung like black guys and I can’t last very long. I’m sure I can’t satisfy you in bed,” Tim blurted out, freeing himself from his shame.

Gloria took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. They sat on the foot of the bed and she tilted his face towards hers. She leaned forward and she kissed him softly and Tim felt a warmth overcome his body. “As long as you care about me as a person and are willing to be honest with me, we can work out the details in the bedroom.” She took his hand and placed it inside her robe. Tim froze momentarily, the fullness of her breast filling his hand. He was afraid to move but instinct took over and he began caressing her soft brown flesh. Gloria closed her eyes and told him it felt good. His touch was soft and tentative. He was watching her responses intently, seeing her squirm and hearing her soft moans. It was almost surreal. It was like a dream come true. He wasn’t even sure this was happening.

She opened her robe and let if fall off her shoulders. Tim was in a state of disbelief. Gloria laid back on the small twin bed and Tim took everything in. Her cream colored satin and lace panties were the only thing she was wearing. He looked at her again and he lowered his mouth her nipple. He could feel the soft flesh in his mouth and the hard nipple against his tongue. He sucked softly, causing Gloria to arch her back and moan. He cupped her breast in his hands and nursed gently, his tongue flicking over the pebble like nipple and his lips tenderly sucking the tender flesh. His dick was throbbing in his pants and he was desperate to stroke it but he remained in his completely dressed state, afraid to do anything to break the magic spell.

Gloria took his hand and slid it past her soft tummy and past the waistband of her panties. He could feel the heat emanating from her core and he slid his fingers between her lips to find her clit already protruding and aroused. She was breathing harder now as she was encouraging him to finger fuck her. Tentatively, Tim began circling her hard clit with his finger. His touch seemed to be driving Gloria insane and she was thrashing about on the bed telling him explicitly how much she loved his soft touch. Tim was lightheaded. He was drunk with intoxication at the thought of giving pleasure to this woman he’d grown to know and love so intimately. He reacted to her responses. Every time she would moan or bite her lip or beg him not to stop, he would make note of what he was doing that caused her to respond. He was confident that what he was doing was really turning her on because her juices were flowing freely. He slid his fingers further down and inside her tight pussy and they both moaned out from pleasure.

He slid her panties down her legs and settled down on the bed between her thighs. He was in control now and he lowered his mouth to her clit, replicating the actions of his fingers with his tongue. The taste of her slippery juices, the feel of her soft lips against his mouth were more intoxicating than any wine and a gift from the gods for sure. The beautiful way her lips opened up to reveal her crimson core made the great works from the world’s most famous painters look like amateurish paint by numbers. Gloria wasn’t one to hold back her encouragement. “Oh Tim, don’t stop, you make my pussy feel so good. Yessss, lick me just like that. Oh fuck, you’re going to make me cum in your mouth.”

A man possessed, Tim licked and sucked and fingered his way to his lover’s heart. She was climbing out of her skin, on the verge of orgasm. She grabbed Tim’s hand and intertwined his fingers in hers. Tim felt like the most special man in the world. Gloria cried out, “I’m going to cum.”

Tim freed his dick from his pants and began stroking it furiously; pounding it in the rhythm of his oral assault. He was swallowing the free flowing juices that filled his mouth. He was lost between the gorgeous brown thighs of an amazing woman who was grabbing his head and holding it tightly to the place where all life began, Ile Ife, the Garden of Eden. They were both headed to the point of no return. Gloria wrapped her legs tightly around Tim’s head and spasmed hard against his mouth as he fisted his dick, spraying cum all over the new bedspread.

The afterglow was particularly rewarding for Tim as he cradled Gloria in his arms. He’d freed himself from his feelings of insecurity and he’d opened himself up to a wonderful relationship. He and Gloria were ready to explore all their options together with 20/20 vision and clear sailing ahead.

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK


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2 comments:

Poetry said...

That story was very nice. It's nice to read something erotic yet real. I LOVE your pics as well.

Ether Blade said...

That story was beautiful. It is nice to read a piece that is erotic but, classy. Thank you for creating this.