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, August 30, 2009

Where the Boys Are

He undressed in front of me and my dick got hard as a rock. We worked out in the same gym so I had seen him naked before but not like this. This time, I knew it was about to get hot and heavy. He slid out of his boxer briefs and he was already hard. I didn’t waste a minute. I quickly got out of my clothes and got on my knees to suck that big dick. I didn’t have time for kissing and foreplay; I wanted to suck the hell out of him.

I grabbed his ass and pulled him forward. I tried to swallow that motha’ fucka’ whole. I used my lips, tongue and throat to make him never forget the head I was giving him. I stopped sucking him long enough to get my finger wet and work it up his asshole. He loved it because he started fucking my mouth like it was a pussy and telling me to take every inch.

I could feel the head of his dick in my throat with every thrust. I was rolling those balls around and I could feel them tighten up.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum, Suck that big dick. Take it!”

I pulled his dick out and jacked it at the same tempo I was stroking my own. He aimed at my tongue and shot at least five times in my hungry mouth. I savored every last drop and licked my lips to let him know I wanted more. I was ready to get down and dirty and that blowjob was just the beginning.

Copyright 2004

Sensual evolution

When I was a child, I thought as a child, when I became a woman . . . the theory is supposed to be that my thoughts and perceptions shifted to that of an adult. I’m convinced that one’s orientation doesn’t shift, one’s primary programming doesn’t evolve, one just becomes older and more adept at justifying and validating the belief systems passed down to him or her generationally.

In an effort to define my sensual evolution, I’ve taken some serious time to assess where I was and where I am now and where I want to go in terms of my sexuality. I’m reluctant to use the term evolution because I’m not convinced that my shift in sexual desires has moved to a higher plane. Perhaps it has just shifted around like a box of tissues in the back window of a car on a bumpy ride.

When I was a developing teen with raging hormones and no one to help me navigate my sexual feelings other than my other pubescent friends, my sexuality was defined by my mother’s collection of pornography in her closet. I was thrilled with words more than pictures and obviously, given my career choice, a fact has carried over into my adult life. I learned about sexuality from overtly misogynist and sexist material that objectified women. Thusly, my sexual desires reflected that fact. I wanted to be seen as desirable and subsequently my fantasies were in relation to that. My earliest fantasies were of doing the things that would make men want me, to see me as the most beautiful, to be the most pleasing to men. I worked hard to perfect my skills at giving head; I would construct intricate and complex scenarios to seduce my boyfriends, all my fantasies revolved around giving pleasure to men. Rarely, if ever, did I fantasize about men giving me pleasure. Two rapes, a failed marriage, a decade of being single, and the conscious effort to become more comfortable with my sexuality have caused my fantasies to shift. I no longer have a desire to be seen as beautiful or desirable to men, in fact, my desires are just the opposite. I want to be seen as a human being and a woman and the person inside the package.

For many years now, I’ve been asexual. I’ve put up a wall around my sexuality intended to keep people out. For me, the concept of planning a seduction and performing outrageous feats of sexuality to please a man are totally foreign to me. My sexual fantasies now mostly revolve around me being seduced and pleasured. In my 43 years of life, I’ve only been seduced once. I’ve had plenty of men want to give me pleasure but that really had nothing to do with pleasing me as a human being, it had more to do with conquering me as some sort of trophy or possession. I do fantasize of once again planning intricate and detailed seductions for my mate but the concept of finding a mate that appreciates all of me are the details I can’t seem to fill in in my imagination.

I used to fantasize about being with women; it’s been years since I’ve had those sorts of thoughts. I used to fantasize about sucking dick; now I chant “Eat me” in my fantasies. In fact, for the first decade of my sexual life, I never asked a man to perform oral sex on me because I thought that was an indication of being selfish. I would REFUSE to sit on a man’s face, even if he insisted that I do it. In my mind, it was indicative of something exclusively for me I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. (I still don’t like doing it but that’s mostly because men tend to suck too hard on my clit when I’m on top and I like it SOFT) I still fake orgasms, almost pathologically, because I can’t let go of my conditioning that says that I have to make the man happy. Today, a large percentage of my fantasies unashamedly revolve around reciprocal anal play. Five years ago, the concept of two men together sexually triggered what I call the “knee-jerk talk show reaction.” That’s the standard, “That’s disgusting,” indignation that 99% of people have in the audiences of Jerry and Maury when the concept of male bisexuality is discussed that is blatantly absent when the issue is two women together. I realize now that my beliefs were part of conservative, Protestant-ethic, brainwashing that has no basis in really dissecting the causes, issues, and genesis of same sex couplings. Today, I find myself aroused by the concept of two men together and I also am aroused by the act of intimacy that a man extends to me in sharing his bisexual desires. Rarely do I fantasize about being penetrated and when I do, my fantasies are romantic more than sexual. In recent years, I was aroused by dominating men. Now, I no longer have a need to be sexually dominant I just accept that as a part of my sexuality. I don’t have a need to assert power over men, or to psychologically manipulate them, I simply long to be treated as a queen.

My ideal sexual fantasy at this stage in my life is to have a mate, lover, partner, boyfriend/husband that is committed to pampering me each night. I dream of a man that draws my bath every evening and pampers my body with oils and lotions and shea butter. Completely relaxed, he then takes painstaking efforts to bring me to orgasm based on the things that arouse me specifically, i.e. licking my asshole, fingering my magic spot, sucking my nipples gently, and eating me SOFTLY. Then and only then, when I’m completely satisfied, do I fantasize that I’m so wickedly pleasured that I have to have him inside me and we make love in a passionate and intense erotic experience. Upon awaking, he’s there behind me, to give me the morning wood that I love so much. I do fantasize that I take great efforts to keep him aroused and plan intricate seductions but it’s difficult to get a good picture of how I do that for the simple fact that I can’t see a man in my life.

I’ve tried to map out a roadmap of where I want to go in my sexual life from here but a lot of that is dependent upon finding a mate. Right now, I tend to think that I’m going to be primarily celibate for the rest of my life and that I’ll supplement my sex life with meaningless episodes once a year or so. That saddens me more than one can imagine but I’m extremely pessimistic about finding a mate. I would like to see myself evolving sensually with my mate, practicing tantric techniques and growing in love and communication. Where I go, how my fantasies will evolve is yet to be seen but I will be sure to monitor my motivations and desires in an effort to track my sensual evolution.

Have you assessed your sensual evolution? Have you asked yourself what things went into making up your sexual personality and how have you grown or changed? How are your desires different now than in years past and are they more healthy or have you just continued on without thinking about your sexual motivations? Share your thoughts and opinions.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

As Smooth as Silk

I like to splurge sometimes on life’s little luxuries. It makes me feel sexy to have some of the world’s finest silk caressing my body beneath the severe business suits I have to wear during the day. Delicate satins, sheer lingerie, and alluring teddies in red, black or pink contrast my conservative public demeanor quite uniquely.

Of course, at night, I can completely let my hair down and be as decadent as I want to be. Just know that tonight, I’ve taken an especially long time bathing, pampering myself and making sure every square inch of my body, from my perfectly pedicured red toes to my matching red fingertips, is soft, supple, and waiting for you to explore. While we are at the restaurant dining, you can imagine my full breasts encased in black lace, waiting to be released so you can suck my hard nipples. If you think you can be discrete so no one else will notice, you can slide your hand up under my skirt and caress my thighs. My matching black lace panties are already moist and my pussy is leaking with sweet juices in preparation for your mouth, licking my hardened clit, sucking my wet, slippery folds, tongue fucking my hot hole. Do you like the way my ass looks in these panties, with my butt cheeks peeking seductively out from the bottom? Would you like to peel them down and stick your tongue between those full mounds of brown flesh? MMmmm.

My silk stockings are imports directly from France. The seam runs perfectly up my sculpted calf and the sexy lace at the top is secured with my garter belt. We have to be especially careful not to run them, so perhaps you might want to use extra caution when removing my black, patent-leather high-heeled stilettos. A nice foot massage would feel really nice; feeling your hands caress my high arches and your mouth sucking my toes would drive me crazy. You licking and sucking my nylon-covered foot feels so fucking good and I won’t be able to help but rub my other foot on your hard dick, desperate to be freed from your pants while I sensually rub my stockinged foot up and down your shaft. Of course, if you like, we can keep my stockings and garters on while you fuck me, feeling my silk-covered legs wrapped around you as you drive your erection in my hot, tight, pussy over and over as I call out your name. You can pump your stiff meat in me and use the straps of my garters as reigns to fuck me from behind. I love playing dress up for you. I love the feel of your hands caressing my sexy, satin covered body as you tell me you love the way it feels. Come on lover, what are you waiting for?

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

AfroerotiK Videos

Monday, August 24, 2009

Black Porn Sucks

The images of African Americans in the adult industry are largely atypical of the true Black experience. The perpetuation of racist and stereotypical images prevalent in the adult industry work to foster unhealthy and diseased perceptions of African Americans and render the majority of African Americans without avenue for healthy erotic expression. The perpetuation of the Black woman as the Ghetto Bitch, Ghetto Whore, and Ghetto Freak is not reflective of the vast and overwhelming majority of Black women. The perpetuation of the Black man as the barely literate, one-dimensional bull is offensive and steeped in sick prejudices that are not reflective of the vast majority of African American males as well.

The quality, or lack thereof, of Black or Ebony adult material available is horrific. Internet sites tend to list ebony or interracial content as “fetish” as if there is something freakish or abnormal about Black sexuality that sets it apart from the norm. The videos available are as low budget as one can possibly get; the actors and actresses are usually taken from the most disenfranchised and marginalized portion of the population, the sets appear to be nothing more than housing project residences with an HD camera and a tripod purchased from Best Buy. Similarly, Black oriented magazines seem to produce a fair amount of income from recycling images from 1975 with production costs that range around $.04 per poorly printed copy.

The word nigger is a racial epithet, not an aphrodisiac. There needs to be an immediate cease and desist of the use of the word Nigger (or any pronunciation thereof) in adult films/websites. That word should not ever be used in connotation to sexual arousal. When used in that context, it becomes the sexual trigger for people of other races and they then associate that word with Black sexuality and their arousal. It’s unacceptable convince anyone that it's erotic or sensual to throw that vile, offensive word around during sex to fulfill or perpetuate their racist/slave/Mandingo/dark continent fantasies.

Intentional and concerted effort needs to be made to show African Americans in a more favorable and well-rounded light. Black people are capable of more than interracial couplings and Freak Fest Ghetto Extravaganzas. Black adult stars are rarely ever featured together, implying that Black people are only arousing when paired with white people. All black adult entertainment usually panders to the lowest common denominator, virtually excluding those individuals that might be seeking adult entertainment that does not originate from housing projects or Black Bike Week.

Using economically disenfranchised African Americans as tools for adult entertainment is standard fare for the industry. The very nature of the practice is racist and offensive. It leave people of other races with the false impression that Black people are all on welfare, all victims of gunshots, and only capable of the most vanilla and mundane sex acts perform while drunk on malt liquor. It leaves the "actors" themselves with a false sense of identity by promoting the concept that all they are capable of is sex in exchange for money. Most importantly, it is not entertaining or arousing for the vast majority of African Americans that exist outside of that reality. It is offensive to suggest that showing such a miniscule portion of the Black community in an adult light is the source for arousal for all of us.

African Americans that come from all walks of life and aesthetic expression should be represented in tasteful, erotic scenarios. Black women can be beautiful and sexy with natural hair yet they seem to be dangerously missing from the adult industry. Showing image after image solely of African American female buttocks simply serves to objectify and dehumanize the subjects. Apparently, lighter complexioned African American men are not considered attractive or sexual because their presence in the adult industry is minimal which only serves to reinforce the “Mandingo, cotton-picking, big-dicked-Negro-as-Buck” stereotype. That negatively defines Black manhood as being equivalent to skin tone and penis size.

I find it disheartening that it's almost 2010 and I, a reasonably intelligent, sensual mature Black woman, can't find one single erotic film/video that speaks to me. It's sad that my female peers feel the need to deny their sexuality because we have no concept of what it is to have erotica that isn't raunchy and degrading, because we have no erotic outlet other than books. I'm prepared to take the industry by storm, create material for us, by us, that speaks to us and appeals to all races. I create erotica that arouses men and women, both black and white. I write stories that show our complexity and sensuality that aren't whitewashed, colorless tales but rather I write about our issues in our language and that isn't a coon/minstrel show that makes us look like buffoons. People of African descent deserve adult material that is light years ahead of what's available to us now. "Well, the adult industry isn't going to change. We have to make our own." I hear that all the time from the legions of people who share my frustration. Unfortunately, the white power structure has to sign on, someone has to open the door in order for us to get our foot in or else we will be spinning our wheels in futility.

Copyright 2009 Scottie Lowe

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Nigga What?

We embrace calling ourselves niggers, like that’s empowering, when in actuality, it’s disrespectful to our ancestors and just plain ignorant. To believe yourself to be a nigger, to behave like you are an ignorant sub human (the true implied meaning of the word) has no benefit or value. Defending the use of the word, trying to rationalize that it has been changed into something positive is insanity. Nine times out of ten, the usage of the word is meant to be disparaging and degrading, EXACTLY the way white people intended it to be used, and on the tenth time, it’s an empty a sign of self-hatred masquerading itself as a term of endearment.

White people expect us to behave like niggers, so calling ourselves that, ESPECIALLY in front of them, does nothing but reinforce to them that we are inferior. To carry yourself like royalty, to walk with dignity, to boldly declare that you are not only equal to but better than white people with your speech, your actions, and your intellect is FAR more threatening to white people than calling yourself a nigga. Want proof? Write a blog calling yourself a nigga and talking about cars, drugs, guns, rap, sex, sports, and how much you love living in the ghetto. You won’t get a private response or two from white people. Well that’s not entirely true. You might get a response or two asking you to fulfill their sexual fantasies. Then, write a blog, grammatically correct and spell checked, that talks about the greatness of black people, our strength, and our ability to excel despite racism, oppression, and bigotry. Write about how our true history of greatness has been distorted with white lies and deception. Discuss, academically articulated with footnoted and documented proof, advanced African civilizations and how white people re-wrote history to make themselves appear superior. White people will crawl out of the woodworks to tell you that Black people are ignorant and that you are nothing but a nigger.

You have to ask yourself, what would you rather be called, what benefit do you get from calling yourself a nigga? If calling yourself that makes you feel connected to other black people, consider yourself a slave on the plantation. If you do nothing else this year, decide to stop using the N word to describe yourself, to describe other black people you want to look down on, or as some sort of synonym supposedly meaning Black person. It’s negative, unenlightened, and stupid.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved


Interracial Relationships and Afrocentric Leadership

I think one of the great failures of African centered thinkers, a group to whom I used to staunchly belong, is the fact that they are tied to the belief that white people are somehow genetically, inherently predisposed to be oppressors. They somehow believe that only Blacks can transcend the fallacy of white supremacy, they falsely believe that whites are incapable of relinquishing their power and privilege. In the history of the world, the fallacy of white supremacy has only existed for the past 2000 or less. The Creator of All, the I Am that I AM, created all human beings as equals. White people, just as African people have the ability to realize the falsehood, lies, and distortions of the past two millennia are nothing more than illusions separating us from the consciousness of love to which we are supposed to vibrate. IF and only if two people can come together, respecting and honoring their differing histories, cultures, norms, perspectives, and share the same goals of eradicating the fallacy of white supremacy, then and only then does color not matter in terms of love. I do NOT believe most African centered scholars who have married white people have done so with partners who have transcended, I do not believe most let go of their mental enslavement that deems white people inherently superior. That doesn’t mean that Black scholars can’t contribute to our revolution. We are ALL, everyone, still enslaved to some degree. Rather than pointing the finger of indignation, we need to embrace that we all still have miles and miles to go before we reach the mountaintop. There are those in the African centered community who will tell me my contributions are invalid because I am open to loving another woman or that I don’t denounce homosexuality. Rather than worry about whom someone loves, we should concern ourselves with our collective scholarship and accomplishment and how we can find commonality to unite in our objectives.

I have had the most exceptional opportunity to meet two white people who are passionate about eradicating the fallacy of white supremacy. I was suspicious; I was filled with hate, rage, and distrust. I learned quickly that my inability to accept them for the true warriors that they are, was my flaw, not theirs. Their motives were pure and they were tackling challenges I never thought white people capable of until I expanded my consciousness and understood a more universal, more enlightened view of the beauty of all of us, not just people of African descent, being created in the image and likeness of The One Most High. Not every white person has attained such enlightenment. In fact, most haven’t even come close. I think we do ourselves a disservice by shutting the door on white people who want to help our cause and encouraging them to pick up armor and fight the valiant fight among their peers. What I don’t think we need to do is pick up their battles. I don’t think we need to help them educate and enlighten their racist peers. I think our energies should be focused on healing our pathologies and ourselves and if they want to help, embrace them, encourage them, invite them to see us in situations where we are behaving in empowered, enlightened ways.

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Taste of You on My Lips

My dear, sweet, sensuous lover, I woke up in the middle of the night last night. I had the most incredible dream. It seemed so real, so lifelike; it took me a few minutes to pull myself together. I awoke last night with the taste of you on my lips. Even though you had not been there, I swear I could taste the salty skin of your neck, like when I kiss you there right after you play ball with the fellas. I could hear your gentle moans, like when I suck your fingers with every intention of letting you know that’s not what I want to be sucking.

I had dreams of tasting, licking, and sucking every inch of your smooth, cinnamon colored skin. I had to realize it was only a dream and not the reality of my mouth giving you indescribable pleasure, my soft tongue licking you all over and not the reality of my lips kissing you in places that drive you crazy. Like I know that it drives you wild when I suck and bite your nipples. I know for a fact that it’s sweet torture for you when I trace my tongue all the way down your back, to the base of your spine, and tease you with my mouth on that smooth, round, brown bottom of yours. It all felt so real.

I wonder if you could feel it too? Did you dream of me kissing you on the backs of your thighs, my tongue in your sexy little belly button, or maybe you felt the sensation of me tonguing you in naughty, unspeakable places. I sure as hell felt every luscious detail. I could feel you get as hard as a rock in my mouth. I felt the way you were at my mercy, going down on you, getting you wet with my mouth. Sliding my lips up and down you with precision and skill. I wonder if you could feel the heat and the slick sensation as my mouth swallowed you, sucked you, licked you, consumed your entire length and sucked on you some more.

Was it all a nightmare? To wake up and find that every rock solid inch of you was not throbbing in my mouth was devastating. I could hear you moaning, saying, “Ohhh, that’s it baby, take it, suck it, yessss, that feels so good.” I could have sworn I heard you screaming, “Don’t stop, oh damn. Please don’t stop. I’m going to cummmm.”

Then I awoke with the taste of you on my lips.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK