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, May 23, 2010

My Newfound Perspective (or My Grand Epiphanal Revelation)

I am largely discouraged by the state of emotional and spiritual evolution of the vast majority of people. My frustration stems from seeing my people tied to behaviors, beliefs, and slave mentality that keeps us dysfunctional. Even those of us who claim to be enlightened, conscious, and evolved have more often than not replaced one set of unhealthy behaviors for another, or, in some cases, haven’t replaced any of their mindsets, only changed their name to one that is Kemetic or African and kept on with their patriarchal, misogynist, Western, capitalist, religious dogma.

Black men are emotionally immature. I don’t know how many other ways I can say it, I don’t know how many examples I need to show to prove it. Not just the thugs and the rappers, not just the impoverished and imprisoned, but Black men socialized in our society have not been taught to process their emotions in a way that is healthy. Black women are complicit and complacent in a society that keeps them oppressed. They have been socialized to conform to standards that deny them their individuality, true womanhood, and freedom in lieu of speaking out, standing up, and raging against the systems that oppress us. Slave mentality exists at every end of the spectrum in ways that manifest itself differently depending upon one’s education and income but certainly no one is immune from its ugly reality. White people are suffering from what appears to be mass/group insanity and tied to their racists beliefs and holding on to them for dear life.

Therefore, going forward, I intend to divorce myself from the process of trying to educate, enlighten, debate, teach, or persuade anyone of anything. If you think that Black women are the reason the Black community has fallen apart, that’s cool. If you think that feminists have a plan to emasculate Black men, that’s cool too. If you think that Africans have a right to the US land because it’s been proven that they were here first and that Native Americans have no such claim, more power to you. From here on out, I will be polite and cordial to the masses and let them have their beliefs without questioning them. I will befriend the few and the rare whom I feel have achieved a certain amount of enlightenment with the hopes that they can help me on my journey for continual healing. I will celebrate the few Black men who are emotionally mature, I will champion the small percentage of Black women who are fighting the system of patriarchy, I will reach out to the infinitesimal minority of white people who are actively involved in divesting themselves of a fallacy of white supremacy. I will continue to write with the hopes that my words will have an impact and I will continue to lead my life in alignment with the principles and guidelines that set me apart from the masses with the hopes that I might be an example to some. That’s all I can do.

May 23, 2010

Scottie Lowe

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Here's my foray into the BDSM world for people of color

A Twist of Fate

It’s funny how, in an instant, one’s entire programming can be shifted. Given the right circumstances, everything that you’ve ever believed, everything that you’ve fought, feared, and resisted can be twisted and morphed into the thing you crave the most. Such was the case with Taja Crawford, who took a frightening journey that would leave her breathless, satisfied in ways she didn’t know existed, and craving much more.

It all started innocently enough, when Taja arrived home late one night from shopping. She dragged her bags through the front door and dropped them at her feet as she reached around to hit the light switch. She’d been out shopping as usual. It had become her hobby of late in an ongoing effort to make herself feel valuable and beautiful. As soon as the door closed behind her, she knew something was wrong. It was pitch black! She remembered pulling into the subdivision and none of the other houses were dark so she figured that there must be a blown fuse somewhere. Her husband had been working around the house for a few days so she thought that he might have accidentally knocked something out.

“Phillip, are you here?” She called out to her husband again and there was no answer. “It just figures that dumb ass wouldn’t be here to fix the mess he made,” she mumbled half under her breath and half aloud. Taja’s anger at her husband was typical, even if he hadn’t done anything specifically wrong; she was going to find a way to blame him for something. Philip was a model husband but Taja’s irrational standards were impossible to meet. She took pleasure in degrading him every chance she got and knowing full well that he would take it. She thought it was nothing less than an honor and a privilege for any man to be with her, that men had an obligation to take anything that she dished out and not say a word. The more she could degrade him, the better she would feel about herself.

Disoriented by the darkness Taja fumbled to find her purse to get her cell phone. Just her luck, the battery had died. That just made her angrier and curse Phillip more, even though he clearly had nothing to do with her phone. Luckily for her, she’d just purchased some brand new candles so all she had to do was let her eyes adjust for a second and find the lighter, which was right on top of the fireplace in the living room.

Before she even had a chance to get her bearings . . . the unimaginable happened. It was every woman’s worst nightmare and it was happening in her own home. She felt the hands, the pressure, the pain, the fear overcome her body in a split second. Taja was grabbed and immobilized, her arms pulled around behind her as she cried out, “Nooooooooo. STOP,” but her cries were muffled by a black leather gloved hand over her mouth. She was pushed against the front door and she felt the air being forced out of her lungs. She fought, struggling with her assailant, trying to resist him but she was quickly overpowered. Her mind was racing, she was praying, she was planning a strategy for escape all at the same time. She was in a panic. Her fear was soon displaced by rage as she hated this person for invading her home and was filled with the desire to exact revenge, even in her current helpless state. She fought with all her might but she was overpowered as her limbs began to fatigue. She was no match for her assailant.

In a matter of seconds, she had calmed down enough to know that she was going to have to use her wits to get out of this situation. With his hand still firmly against her mouth, she tried to get some image of what this person looked like. Could it be someone that she knew? Was it a total stranger? Fear coursed through every vein in her body as she imagined it was one of her cyber lovers. She’d spent many late nights cheating online, chatting with men in explicit sexual language in an attempt to add some spice to her life, to taunt Phillip and prove to him that she could have any man she wanted. She’d been careless, sharing exaggerated, intimate details about her life in order to make herself seem more affluent than she really was. Maybe one of those men had come to do unspeakable sexual acts on her. Tears were burning in her eyes and a lump formed in her throat, making it nearly impossible to swallow. The adrenaline pumping in her body was causing her to sweat and her legs felt like gelatin.

Her attacker leaned in close and whispered, “Shhhhhhh,” and Taja nodded very calmly to indicate that she understood. As soon as he removed his hand, something was stuffed in her mouth and then a handkerchief or scarf of some sort was tied in place. Her first reaction was to try to scream to get a gauge of how much sound she could make through the material but she held off. She didn’t know if this person had a gun or a knife and what his intentions were so she played it cool until she could devise a plan. He placed a silk blindfold over her eyes and she was struck by his gentle touch. She noticed how he gently lifted her hair to secure the blindfold and the soft lingering touches he gave to her face. She felt the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs being put on her wrists. She needed to know what he wanted to do so she would have to gain his confidence enough to let her speak so she played the part of a scared victim but she was actually using her skills as an actress to make him think that she was incapable of escape.

The strange attacker led Taja down the hall to the spare bedroom and closed the door and locked it behind them. Her heart dropped when she thought about what had happened to her husband. Phillip wasn’t just your average good guy; he was a great guy. He owned his own handyman repair business, not glamorous but it paid the bills. He bought Taja her dream house and he didn’t even complain when he had no say in picking out anything, nothing, not one single thing for the house. He bent over backwards to be nice to Taja’s meddling sisters and her mother. Phillip went to church every Sunday even when Taja felt like she had more important things to do, like shop. He cooked, he cleaned, he even volunteered with disadvantaged youth, he would never cheat and he worked hard to provide for his wife. His only flaw, to Taja, was not being edgy enough. She saw the good qualities in Phillip but she wanted flash, she wanted a bad boy. Certainly, Phillip would never allow anything to happen to her, she knew he loved her with all his heart. She pushed the horrendous thought out of her mind about how her husband and the intruder might have struggled and fought, Phillip losing only to a bullet or knife wound, fighting to protect his wife. She didn’t hate Phillip, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, she just wanted him not to take her shit all the time; she wanted to be the wife of someone dangerous. It really wasn’t his fault that he was average.

The adrenaline was pumping in Taja’s veins and she was acutely aware of everything going on around her. Whatever happened, whatever was to happen, Taja maintained her senses and waited for her opportunity to escape.

The spare bedroom wasn’t even a room that she and Phillip usually used. It was for guests when they came to spend the night; the only time it was ever really used was when Phillip slept there once in a while to keep from angering Taja with his presence. The stranger led Taja to the middle of the room, and in a split second, Taja’s arms were hoisted above her head and attached to some sort of cable that was secured to the ceiling. It was the most unbelievably painful and uncomfortable sensation she had ever experienced. Taja was barely standing on her tiptoes and her arms were stretched to the point of excruciating pain. She was trying to balance herself and she felt herself flailing about like a rag doll. Her fight or flight instinct took over and she began crying uncontrollably. She felt her tears stream down her cheeks only to be absorbed by the handkerchief around her mouth. She tried to “feel” his presence in the room. He had moved back and was just listening to her muffled cries. She thought for a second that the end was near and everything would be over shortly. In her mind, she said her goodbyes and repented for her sins and waited for her untimely demise. What could have been seconds, what was probably minutes, but felt more like hours passed. The pain in her arms was unbearable; her legs ached from trying to relieve the pressure but her feet could barely reach the floor. Maybe he was going to leave her there to die, she thought; the victim of starvation, dehydration and torture.

Unexpectedly, he released the cable that suspended her from the floor and let her stand. Her arms were still above her head but the tension had been lessoned to the point where she could move them slightly. Taja was grateful to him for sparing her such pain and she realized that he had won one battle; he had made her appreciative of his small act of kindness.

He moved around in front of her and she could feel his body heat close to her. She felt his hands on her sides and run down to her full hips. He began caressing her breasts and sheer terror shot through her. Without notice, he ripped her blouse open, tearing it like it was nothing. Her breathing was heavy, knowing he was probably standing before her, aroused, but she was helpless to do anything about it. The telltale sign of the cold steel blade of a knife was pressed against her breasts as she froze. He cut away her bra and the remaining portions of her blouse until she stood topless. Having removed his gloves, he began caressing her neck, planting gentle, tender kisses on the nape of her neck and her collarbone. He licked gently, he kissed softly; from her ears to her shoulders and not missing a spot in between. His soft tongue licked up to her ear and he began blowing softly. His fingers stroked her flesh as he sucked the tender spot that always made Taja wet.

Rage coursed through Taja’s body. The unspeakable was about to happen. He was going to violate her, take from her something he had no right to take. For years, she had fantasized about being “raped”. Without regard for what the word actually meant, she fantasized that violent aggressive sex, that a man “taking” her, actually symbolized that she was more desirable than other women. The reality was vastly different.

Her mind was spinning, trying to reconcile the unadulterated fear coursing through her body and her arousal. She was searching for some way to make sense of the fact that while she was angered and scared she was actually enjoying this man kissing her sweet spot. He was making love to her neck with his mouth, licking and kissing and caressing her passionately. She shook her head to shake the thought that here she was, standing bare breasted and restrained by a total stranger, and on some level she was enjoying it. She was actually enjoying the sensation, it was giving her pleasure and it served to distract her from the pain in her arms that were still secured above her head and the anger of being assaulted. She was desperate to move her arms; her restraint was painful, both physically and psychologically.

In an act of kindness, her assailant unfastened the handkerchief around her face and removed the gag from her mouth. Taja immediately began pleading for her life, trying to talk rationally with the man. He didn’t say a word; he gently placed his fingers to her lips to indicate to her that he wanted her to be quiet. Taja froze, and bargained. “I’ll be quiet if you let my arms down a little, they hurt so badly. Please.”

He ignored her pleas as his fingertips began to gently trace her nipples, softly circling her breasts. Her erect nipples stood out from her body, proudly almost, betraying the fact that she actually enjoyed the stimulation. When he lowered his mouth to her tits, a small groan could be heard emanating from her throat. He filled his hands with her breasts and he held them to his mouth. Taja was outdone and began slightly thrusting back and forth, showing barely detectable signs of sexual arousal. She was enjoying his ministrations a little too much for her comfort. He began sucking a little harder and Taja bit her lip to keep from moaning. He started biting her nipples and it was as if it was sending shots of electricity directly to her clit. Her brain was misfiring, somehow causing her to experience the sensation as pleasure. She could feel moisture developing between her legs, the throb of arousal in her pussy. Taja was confused and determined to control her own desire. She was always in control and she was going to do whatever she had to do to keep her pussy from getting wet.

Even the best laid plans need room for variables. As Taja was trying to control her arousal, and the man before her was licking, sucking and biting her hard nipples, she experienced a sensation that would send her mind and body reeling. Her arms were beginning to numb, a dull ache had set in, and she was almost able to tune out the pain when she was jolted by a pain that transformed her focus. Nipple clamps were applied to her aroused nipples as her captor began to pull a chain attached to them. He was toying with her, alternating between softly caressing her breasts and roughly pulling the chain that was attached to the clamps. Taja wasn’t able to hide her arousal, she was moaning in pleasure and in pain. He took what felt like to be a riding crop and began gently slapping her tits. Taja was undone; she felt every sting as pleasure.

Without notice, he stopped, causing Taja’s mind to spin out of control with questions. “What is he thinking, what is he planning, what was he doing?” As soon as he stopped the assault on her breasts, she was reminded of the pain in her arms, still suspended from the ceiling. Within seconds, the cable that held her arms in the air was released enough to let her arms fall completely. He massaged them for a few minutes, taking the opportunity to massage and lick her breasts as well. This time, without the gag, it was impossible for Taja to hide the fact that she was aroused; her moans were audible and guttural. Her arms were burning and sore and his massage felt delicious.

He pushed her to her knees and circled her like a lion stalking its prey. Still unable to see anything, there was no mistaking the sounds of his zipper being lowered. Taja waited, anxious to be thrown into the next phase of arousal and stimulation. She couldn’t deny to herself that she was experiencing pleasure in ways that she had never imagined possible. The restraint, the pain, the fact that it was a total stranger controlling her fate . . . all turned Taja on and she was craving more sensation. When it was all over, when she would tell the tale later, she would deny her arousal, now; she was going to bathe in the nasty and sensual feelings that had been awakened in her.

She felt the tip of his dick against her lips. He held it there, neither one of them making a move to initiate any action. Ever so detectably, he began rubbing it on her lips. The salty, semi-sweet precum that had formed on the head of his dick painted her lips and her first instinct was to lick the fluid away but she remained like a statue, not wanting to scare her captor or cause him to get antsy. He began to stroke his hard dick and she could hear him moaning. He put his thumb in her mouth and continued stroking his dick. Taja was confused. He could easily have shoved his dick in her mouth and there wasn’t much she could do about it. She swallowed the saliva that had collected in her mouth and realized that it simulated a sucking action. He groaned loudly.

He took his thumb out of her mouth and he grabbed a hand full of her hair. Taja let out a yelp and he pulled her hair even tighter in his grip. His breathing was getting more labored and he had now begun to push the head of his dick between her lips. For the first time, Taja wanted to please her home invader. She wanted him to be pleased with her oral skills, to consider her sexy and to want her. Being objectified was her drug of choice and she was high and addicted to the sensation.

The man with his dick in her mouth wasn’t interested in her thoughts and reflections, he was going to fuck her mouth and she wasn’t going to have much say in the matter. He pushed his dick in to her mouth and he stood perfectly still. Taja imagined that he was equally as afraid of losing an appendage as she was afraid of what he might do if she accidentally bit him. Taja wanted to control the action, she wanted to give him a blowjob the way she wanted to do it but that was not to be. He knew what he wanted and he communicated it to her without saying a word. He controlled the pace; he controlled the action. When he wanted her to lick, he pulled her head back, when he wanted her to suck, he shoved his dick in her mouth to the base. He grabbed the back of her head and used her mouth for his pleasure. She could feel every vein, every ridge against her tongue as he face-fucked her. She gagged and choked as he forced the head of his erection down her throat and it seemed to turn them both on.

Taja was enjoying the rough treatment. She was aroused by the way this man was using her and she was stimulated by the fact that he didn’t really let her control the action. She got into the blowjob and started trying to give him pleasure like she’d never done to anyone in the past. It was important for her self-esteem to think of herself as an object of desire and she got into sucking and licking like never before. It was the sloppiest, wettest, loudest blowjob she had ever given and even found herself moaning and enjoying it.

It was as if she didn’t have to pretend to be reserved anymore, like she had been conditioned to be; she could be a wanton, sexual slut, and that thought sent chills up her normally judgmental and conservative spine. She rationalized that he was forcing her to behave in this whorish manner and she let go of whatever beliefs that told her she was being a bad girl, she wanted to be naughty and, dare she admit it, submissive.

She felt the head of his dick pounding her throat and she didn’t tense up, she went with the sensation. He got thicker and harder in her mouth as he fucked her mouth more. Taja’s hands were rubbing her pussy through her pants and her attacker was making noises like a wounded animal. He grabbed her by the throat and restricted her air. The rougher he treated her, the more moisture soaked her panties. She was being held captive by a man she didn’t know and she was more trusting of him than she had been with all of her previous lovers.

“Shit,” he cried out, the first word he had uttered all night, and he backed away.

Taja was dazed and caught off guard. In the frenzy of her arousal, she had almost forgotten that he was a real individual. Why had he stopped? Had she done something wrong? She hated herself for wanting him not to stop. Had he shot his load on and not wanted to do it in her mouth? Visions of his dick, shooting cum on the floor as he stood over her, stroking it, enraged her. “Damn you, you son of a bitch. Let me go, RIGHT NOW! You’ll be sorry for this.” She really wanted to beg for his cum in her mouth but she knew not to say another word. She was on fire and it was impossible to deny at that point. She began to plead with him again to let her go but in the back of her mind she wanted to experience just a little bit more erotic torture.

He pulled her to her feet and removed her pants. With painstaking slowness, he pulled them down over her full hips and tossed them to the side. Taja stood motionless, afraid to move, not sure of the reasons why. Her attacker led her to the bed and secured the handcuffs to the headboard. She was laying face down and he made her get on her knees. Taja was embarrassed to be so exposed, so vulnerable yet so aroused. Again, he left her there for a few minutes in silence and in darkness.

She felt the bed shift as he climbed on with her. His hands began caressing her back gently, massaging her sore arm muscles again. Everything he did, he did with such tenderness and care, and it was at that moment that she first thought that her attacker could actually be her husband. “Phillip, is that you? Let me go. Stop this, this isn’t funny.”

If it was her husband, if it was Phillip, he would surely let her go, he knew she was really in control, he knew that whatever she said was the final word. That belief was shattered when she felt the sting of a sharp slap on her ass. The pain rattled her sense of reality and traveled up and down her spine. Phillip would never defy a direct order from her let alone be so aggressive. She began to panic again. Had she underestimated this perpetrator? Reality sunk in and she began to sob uncontrollably. “Please, please let me go,” she cried.

“Count,” he said.

While Taja was wondering what he intended for her to count, she felt the sharp sting of another blow on her ass. It took of few seconds for her brain to comprehend and she was able to eek out, “One,” not sure if that was the correct response or not, just going with her gut. He followed the slap to her ass with soft kisses to her disciplined flesh. His hands massaged her breasts, rubbed her clit and soothed her sexy round bottom. She felt decidedly masculine hands caress the tender flesh of her ass. His hands were kneading her body and gently stroking her thighs and back. His fingers separated her butt cheeks and he ran them lightly over her asshole. Taja froze in terror. The man responsible for her restraint then slid his fingers down to her soaking wet pussy and rubbed her swollen clit. Taja was pissed, embarrassed, and annoyed at herself for being aroused. She wanted and needed to regain control so she began talking again, trying to hide her true feelings, begging to be let go.

The next blow came without warning and she cried out “Owwwww,” as tears formed in her eyes. She remembered to say “Two,” and lay her head on the pillow as an act of exhaustion, both physical and mental. What followed was more caressing and more spanking, more fingering and more counting, more tender touches and searing pain combined. She felt his hands caressing the tender and heated flesh of her ass. The more he caressed, the wetter her pussy became. He would rub her sore nipples and spank her butt and thighs. It was torture; erotic, sensual, heavenly torture. Her head was reeling; it wasn’t supposed to feel pleasurable. She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. The stinging was registering in her brain as bliss and she was tormented by the fact that each slap was followed by him gently rubbing her clit to near orgasm. She began to look forward to each slap, to him bringing her closer and closer to fierce explosion every time. By the time she got to twenty, she was experiencing each slap as pleasure, each sting was ecstasy. Her pussy was dripping and her clit was throbbing and she was desperate to cum.

Without warning, she felt the softness of a tongue licking her soaking wet pussy. “Noooo, she cried out, not sure why she was saying it; she truly didn’t want him to stop. She was trying to stop him from having more control over her and the fact that he was teasing her with such expertise. She was pulling against her restraints, and trying to fight her own orgasm as he licked her from front to back.

There was no stopping him; he was going to make her cum and cum hard. She fought it with her mind but her body was betraying her intentions. She had been so aroused for so long, she was at the brink of sensual release. Ecstasy washed over her body and his lips gently sucked her clit as his tongue fucked her hole. He lapped and licked, nibbled and sucked and made her grind her pussy on his face. She moaned in the pillow and begged him not to stop.

She felt the head of his dick rubbing her pussy. She was beyond the point of rational thought. Like a light switch going off in her head, she realized that the life of control and rules she had lived by were mere illusions. She wanted to be fucked, fucked good, fucked hard, and fucked long. She needed to be fucked. She heard the words coming out of her mouth but they sounded like they were coming from someone else. They sounded like they were coming from a wounded animal. “Fuuuuuck meeeee pleeeeease.”

Time froze. In an instant, the handcuffs were released and a small nightlight was turned on. She could tell her captor got off the bed and stood back, waiting for her to make a move. She kept her head in the pillow with her ass in the air, not moving an inch. She knew she should get up and run but she couldn’t. She wanted to turn around and see the face of her captor. She remained frozen. She said it again, this time aware that she could no longer claim to being forced to do anything. “Fuck me.”

The ringing in her ears and the desperation in her wet pussy drove her to say the words that she wouldn’t have thought possible two hours earlier. She felt the head rub from her clit to her asshole and she arched backwards, trying to get him to penetrate her. She was desperate to feel that sensation of him hitting bottom deep inside her. She needed to feel full with his hardness, the ecstasy that a woman can only feel when a big hard dick is filling her, stretching her, pounding her. It was a strange twist of fate that had her craving the very sensation that she had fought all her life to deny. She wanted to be submissive, to let go of all the stereotypes and standards that told her that she had to be a strong black woman that didn’t put up with anything, that called all the shots. She realized that her freedom was in letting go, was in letting someone else have the reins of control and it had nothing to do with her being weak, it was simply a shift in power. She was tired of pretending that she had to be everything to everyone, she was tired of needing to feel like a bitch. In that moment she wanted to surrender to sensations that she had no control over and she craved that release.

“Say it again,” he said again calmly.

In a surreal declaration, she said the words that released her from her invisible bonds. “Now! Please! Fuck me!”

With those words, he took the head of his dick and placed it at the head of her asshole. Anal sex was something she’d done before but it had been a long time ago, with boyfriends that insisted she had to do it to prove that she loved them. It’d been many years since she even thought about doing it and fear paralyzed her body. She wasn’t even sure she could take it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was going to hurt. Why then, was her body screaming out for this stranger to do it? She wanted to feel like she was giving him the ultimate symbol of her submission to him.

Exquisitely slow and with exhausting skill, her captor managed to get the head inserted with no pain at all. Taja was sweating and her musky scent was reminiscent of a wild animal but it was sexy and primal. The fact that just the head of his dick was inside her was driving her out of her mind. She started pushing back and driving more meat inside her backdoor. The sensation of being filled like that was causing her to grunt and moan. It was as if she couldn’t breath and every millimeter shoved inside her felt like miles of orgasmic pleasure. Teeth marks were embedded in the pillowcase and her hands gripped the sheets tightly. Through it all, he wouldn’t move and inch; he let her control the penetration. It was only when she reached between her legs to rub her clit that she realized that he was completely buried inside her. She’d past her threshold of pleasure and it was time for some fast and furious fucking.

Taja had to grab the headboard to keep her head from being rammed. In an instant, he was fucking her senseless. She pushed back; he pumped harder. Every inch of his dick was driven deep inside her and she adored the sensation. Rockets went off inside her head and she was outside herself. Taja was now another person, another woman who had no fears, no inhibitions. She needed to get fucked and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it all night long. He grabbed her hips; she rubbed her clit. He was moaning, she was groaning. She came without him missing a beat and he kept fucking her through her orgasm. Sweat formed on both of them and they grunted and groaned like wild animals. They fucked into the night until Taja passed out from pleasure and exhaustion.

The morning came and sunlight filtered through the blinds. Taja awoke, her arms and legs and ass were sore. The smells of eggs and coffee were coming up the stairs. Phillip entered the room and held out her robe. “Breakfast is ready.”

She stood on shaky feet, still weak from the incredible fuck she had gotten and the restraint her body had endured. “We need to talk . . ." Her words were cut off with the familiar finger that has silenced her the night before.

Phillip had no words to explain his behavior or his actions. He, too, had been struggling with his perceived role as doormat versus being a “man” and he had devised this plan to show his wife who was the boss. While he had done it for her he had come to some personal revelations of his own. If being the boss meant that he had to be someone that was unnatural to him, he wanted no parts of that. He stood his ground as he waited for her verbal assault, quite sure she was going to go back to full bitch mode.

Never having had a previous occasion to be humble, Taja was rendered speechless. Her journey to self-discovery started with a paralyzing fear and ended with a frightening revelation. She let Phillip help her on with her robe. She rested her head on his shoulder and he put his arms around her. She’d lost a piece of herself and found it in losing control. There was no turning back, only relinquishing old beliefs in a strange twist of fate.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Promises, Promises

Being a bachelor is great, right? You can do what you want, come and go as you please, with no one to answer to. There’s a side to living the single life that a lot of guys don’t like to talk about however. If you’re not the type of brotha who’s a playboy, with hot, nympho supermodels coming in and out at all hours of the night, if the majority of your sex comes from a computer screen and not a human being, life can be really lonely for the single guy.

That was the sad reality for Chase. He worked 9 to 5 or so at an insurance company at a job that was so incredibly boring that he contemplated running away to Rio every morning during his daily commute. He couldn’t really complain too much, he got away with doing as little work as possible and got paid well enough to go on vacation, party, save a little, and live comfortably. He wasn’t ugly, he was attractive by most standards, but he just wasn’t the sort of guy that felt comfortable going out picking up random chicks. He could if he applied himself to the effort but it just didn’t seem worth the drama.

It was the ride home from work where Chase’s inner sexual demons started taunting him. Living alone, Chase had become addicted to masturbation. He felt guilty about the fact that he felt like he was enslaved to his raging sexual desires. Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, he made a deal with himself. “I’m not going to do it tonight. Yeah, I’m not going to do it for another month, starting today,” he affirmed aloud.

Arriving home, Chase headed straight for the bathroom. Pulling out his dick, he let loose with a stream of hot urine into the bowl. It felt good to piss and before the strong yellow stream finished, his dick was getting wood. He stroked it a little and pulled his balls out and started rolling them in his fingers. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, the guilt hit him and he stopped before he got too carried away.

Getting out of his suit and putting on some comfortable sweats, Chase was free to fix dinner. Well, he ordered take-out because he had never even used his stove before. Committed to his vow, he sat down to watch TV while he ate his buffalo wings. He hadn’t even been home for an hour before he started getting anxious. “I’ll just log on, check my email, and log off,” he said to himself, knowing that it was the Internet that was his downfall.

Before he could even open up a browser, he got an IM from one of his buddies saying, “hey whaz up u gonna cam 2nite?”

“Nah, not tonight,” he replied before he went invisible. He checked his email and other than notification that an ousted Nigerian parliamentarian was seeking his assistance in getting $2 million bucks out of the country, he didn’t have any emails. He checked his MySpace and Black Planet pages, wrote about how much he hated his job on his blog, and he didn’t see a reason not to check his Xtube page while he was at it. The temptation was just too great and he checked out some of the recently added videos. He watched a few women getting pounded hard in the ass while he played with his nipples, twisting and rubbing them. There couldn’t be any harm in checking out a few tranny vids, could there? Before he knew it, Chase had been watching porn for two hours and his dick was as hard as a rock and he was stroking it with his favorite lotion for lube. He’d been teasing himself the entire time and he was desperate to cum.

He struggled within himself. He didn’t want to go back on his vow but he was so horny, so turned on. He felt ashamed of himself, and guilty. It was almost as if his lust controlled him when he was in this sort of aroused state. Now, completely naked, he was fingering his ass and didn’t give a damn about the empty promise he’d made to himself.

He went to his closet and got out all of his toys. Chase had a collection of dildos that went from small butt plugs he could wear under his suits at work with no one the wiser to gigantic, humongous, enormous dildos that didn’t look like human beings could take them. They ranged in color from light cocoa to the darkest of ebony. His dick leaked precum at the very thought of feeling those huge, fake dicks penetrating his ass.

Part of his arousal was feeling the shame. He felt dirty and abnormal for loving things shoved up his ass but that turned him on as well. He was terrified he was the only brotha in the world who loved women, loved pussy, loved fucking but also loved feeling his asshole stuffed with hard, huge fake dicks. When he was aroused like this, his ass had a mind of it’s own. He couldn’t count how many times he’d thrown every dildo he owned away, promising to never do it again, only to wind up a few weeks later, replacing all the ones he’d discarded and buying even more to add to his collection. He just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his asshole would get as horny as a pussy, throbbing and desperate to be filled, fucked savagely, and left gaping open.

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t go more than three or four days without it. Something in him took over and it was all he could think about. He had a ritual. He went from small to large, talking to himself out loud the entire time. “Ohh, that’s it. Ohhh, it feels so good going in my tight hole. Mmmm, I can feel the head of that dick stretching my anal ring, sliding in deep. Damn, I love feeling that thick shaft in me.” He didn’t even have to touch his prick, it leaked on it’s own. When he did jerk his stiff, hard erection, he craved the feeling of a big, hard dildo deep, deep inside him. He loved feeling slutty and by the time he was in the zone, he as out of control with his fantasies. “Fuck yeah, fill my pussy with that hard meat. Give it to me, fuck me with that big dick.”

Truth be told, he was crazy for the feeling of being penetrated but he was terrified of being bisexual. Those fears seemed to disappear when he was fucking himself; he got off in those moments of depravity by thinking of himself as a faggot gangbang slut, taking on four and five dudes at a time, being used, driving them crazy with his insatiable asspussy that couldn’t be satisfied, that would drain them of their cum and be ready for more.

By 11:00, Chase was deep in his nightly routine and he was ready for the 13-inch dildo in his ass. It was over four inches thick at the base and as black as night. He positioned the base on the wall and got on his knees. He teased himself by rubbing it up and down his ass crack and over his balls. He liked teasing himself, pretending that he had to beg for it like a filthy whore. His asshole was throbbing with desire and he heard himself moan as he backed up on the head. For Chase, that was one of the most intense feelings, feeling that thick head pop in his hole. He taunted his fantasy lover, “Oh yeah, does that feel good? You like the way my tight, wet, hot pussy makes you feel?” He backed up on the dildo and felt every inch as it went deeper and deeper inside. Luckily, he’s laid out some towels on the floor because by the time he’d worked that entire dildo in his ass, he’d pissed himself and it felt damn sexy.

The feeling of fullness was indescribable. Chase wished he could stay like that forever, with that huge dildo deep in him, filling him, keeping him on the edge of pleasure and satisfying a need in him to be filled. He grabbed another dildo and shoved it in his mouth, sucking it like only a cheap whore could. He wanted two real dicks filling him, making him take every inch. In his mind, he was a cum slut, bareback bitch, getting hot cum pumped in him from both ends. Chase was like an animal, sweating and moaning and fucking himself like crazy. He worked every inch of that thick dildo in his ass and wiggled that ass like a stripper to work it deeper. He got into a rhythm where he would take it all the way out to the head and slam back on it hard, causing himself to moan out in pleasure as he fucked himself over and over again. When he felt himself getting close to cumming, he stopped; prolonging the pleasure was such an intense high he didn’t mind only getting a few hours sleep at night in order to scratch that itch in his mancunt.

When he lay on the bed, with his legs in the air, he could see the dildo going in and out of his pussy in the mirror. He loved looking at his sexy brown hole gape open, imagining loads and loads of hot cum dripping from it. He found himself on more than one occasion licking and sucking a dildo directly from his ass, tasting his manly ass juices and shoving it back in only to lick and suck it again. He talked to himself in the mirror, “Look at you. You are so nasty. Look at you cleaning that filthy dick straight from your shithole. Mmm, it tastes so good.”

When he knew he couldn’t take it anymore, when he knew he was about to explode with cum, he turned on his web cam, mounted his favorite, curved dildo to his chair and gave a show for anyone who wanted to see. His fans loved seeing him ride that thick dildo as much as they loved seeing him stroke his own impressive dick. Every time that curved dildo hit his spot, he would moan like a bitch. “Fuck yeah, I love feeling that big hard dick in my pussy. I’m such a faggot slut. I can’t get enough. I’m addicted to feeling that thick, hard shaft shoved in me. I need it deeper, harder.” The muscles in his thighs flexed and he jerked his erection in time, hard and fast. “I’m such a fucking cumwhore. I love getting fucked in my ass. Shit, fuck me. Fuck, it feels so fucking good. Goddamn bareback pussy boi whore who can’t get enough. Fucking fag boy who loves getting fucked. Dirty, nasty shithole slut, getting that hot, thick dickmeat where I need it. Come on, can’t you fuck me any harder than that? Use this tight manpussy, rip it open. Oh god, I can’t take it, I’m going to cum. Shit . . . Fuck . . . Damnnnnnnn!!!! Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

Cleanup was a bitch. The last thing he wanted to do at 3 in the morning was to wash up and put everything away in its hiding place. He knew if he didn’t, Chase knew that if he didn’t put everything away then and there, that when he came home from work later that evening, that he would be too tempted to do it again. And this time made a promise to himself that he wasn’t going to do it again for at least another month.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Reach Around Hand Job XXX


By Tyree Thomas

I was stuck at home not doing a damn thing on a Friday night. No date. I had no plans to kick it with my friends either. I was bored as hell. The only thing that piqued my interest was to make some popcorn and watch a movie. However, the TV in the living room was going to get repaired tomorrow. I decided since my roommate was gone on her hot date for a couple of hours with her boyfriend that I’d go to her room to watch TV upstairs.

As I became engrossed into my movie for over an hour, I heard the front door slam and two sets of heavy footsteps climbing upstairs fast. Those footsteps were accompanied with some sensual moans and kissing. My eyes grew big as saucers. Shit! They came home early!!! She had no idea that I was in her room. I couldn’t make a mad dash back to my room because it was across hers. They were already upstairs. I quickly turned off the TV and hid in her closet with my bowl of unfinished popcorn.

The door flew open and my roommate and her boyfriend stumbled into the room kissing furiously. Clothes started flying off left and right and my senses were heightened from the voyeurism from the mesh panels of her closet doors. She always left her room dimly lit when she was away, but the lighting was enough to where I finally got to see my roommate’s beautiful nude body and well as her sexy boyfriend‘s. Her skin looked like mahogany silk. She had long curly hair, gorgeous large breasts, a small waist and a round, onion shaped ass. Her boyfriend’s body looked as though if it was carved out of stone: milk-chocolate complexioned, very tall, incredibly handsome, not too lean or muscular and long jet black locks that grazed his mid-back. My eye traveled down to his large dick. He looked like an African love god waiting to fulfill any and every lusty, sexual need. I always wanted to see attractive couples get their freak on right in front of my eyes without them knowing. It’s such a turn-on. Plus, I dreamed about eating my roommate’s pussy on many occasions. I’ve been attracted to her ever since we’d met three years ago when we first moved into the house. I never told her about my bisexuality, which I kept a secret to keep the peace.

They both started kissing and groping heavily until my roommate dropped to her knees and sucked her boyfriend’s huge dick. She looked like a porn star taking his entire length in her mouth. Then she tickled his balls with her long tongue as she stroked his cock. His hands were tangled in her hair and their sounds of satisfaction filled the room. I began to get wet from hearing and seeing all the action and licked my lips. The boyfriend stopped to lie down in the bed and have her to sit on his face while she continued to suck him off in the sixty-nine position. They both were at it for what seemed like an eternity. I immediately put my hand into my panties and closed my eyes. I rubbed my clit with the heel of my hand and fingered my pussy. Damn, I wished to join them. However, I didn’t realize that my moans were so loud that my roommate opened the closet doors and found me. Shit, I was cold busted! She told her boyfriend that she was amazed that they had an audience, based from how I was found and the bowl of popcorn sitting next to me. I was so at a loss for words. I started to explain my “what had happened was” moment until she knelt down and took the fingers from my pussy to lick them slowly. I became shocked but it soon turned to instant arousal. She told me that she and her boyfriend have talked about having me to join them in a threesome for awhile now. She quickly pulled me up to stand and took off my t-shirt and panties and laid one hell of a kiss on me. My roommate’s full lips and sensual tongue were what I imagined. I tasted her boyfriend’s pre-cum on my lips. I felt her hands wander all over my body. She said that she loved my curves and longed to feel my tits and ass. She dipped her head and grabbed my right nipple between her sexy lips and delightfully sucked on it. I closed my eyes and let out a sensual sigh. I had the chance to feel her soft, supple mahogany body that I dreamed about and placed hot kisses along her neck and chest as my hands kneaded her voluptuous ass. Her boyfriend sat on the bed and stroked his dick while he watched us. He then walked up and took his turn kissing and touching me as well. I ran my hands through his long, jet black locks as I kissed him. I tasted my roommate’s wetness on him. He told me that he fantasized about my beautiful mouth all the time whenever I talked to him and couldn’t wait for my lips to come into contact with his love stick. I instinctively caressed his dick and went back in for another French kiss. His long fingers ran down the middle of my back and it drove me wild. While her boyfriend and I were kissing, I felt my roommate kiss my neck from behind as she fingered my pussy with one hand the other was squeezing my breast. I groaned from the pleasure they gave me.

The next thing I knew, we all climbed into her king size bed. I rested on my back with my long legs open. My roommate climbed in between them. She ran her tongue down my thighs and proceeded to eat my pussy. She gave my clit a good tongue lashing. Her boyfriend came behind her and slid his dick into her wetness. She moaned against my clit from the contact, which sent chills up and down my body. Her tongue continued to flick over my love button and then her lips covered it to suck gently, which sent me over the edge. She also fingered my pussy while working on my clit. I started to feel the walls of my pussy tremble then throb hard from her working on me. The more she licked and sucked, the more I came. Also, her moans from her boyfriend’s thrusts made the sex hotter. We then switched positions. I don’t think words could truly describe how insanely happy I was to finally have my dream come true. I had her to lie on her back while I gave her the same attention she had given me. I kissed her deeply, tasting myself. I then cupped both of her gloriously full breasts and sucked her nipples until they became hard as pebbles. The scent of her perfume had me reeling. I kissed my way down to her stomach towards her pussy. My fingers gently opened her folds and I dove right in. I couldn’t get over her sweet, womanly scent combined with her boyfriend’s as I teased her clit with my lips and tongue. Her screams, moans and her head rolling back into the pillow were enough to know that I was doing just fine pleasing her. My roommate took her breasts and licked and played with her nipples as I resumed my oral play, gazing up at her from time to time. I felt her boyfriend rub my ass and he went on to tongue my hot wet slit. I let a soft moan out against her clit when he’d done that. I had died and gone to heaven. After several steamy minutes, my roommate and I came practically at the same time. We then shifted positions again. Her boyfriend was on his back, and she rode his dick reverse cowgirl-style, facing me. I loved watching her lovely face contort with every thrust her boyfriend gave and it looked incredibly beautiful. From there, I had every opportunity to help myself to her breasts, her clit and his balls with my hands, lips and tongue while they were fucking. The moans, groans and wet clapping of their sex together made one terrific sound. The smell of sex in the air was intoxicating. I lapped up every single drop of the both of them as if I couldn’t get enough.

Her boyfriend told us that he was about to come and wanted us to finish him off. My roommate and I got off the bed and knelt on the floor side by side. He stood in front of us while we took turns giving him head. I see why my roommate loved to suck his dick. It was long, thick and it felt awesome going in and out of my mouth. I savored the taste of both him and my roommate. Within a few minutes, his lips gave away a thunderous scream and he came all over my roommate’s tits as she held them up. I leaned in to lick some of his cum off of her breasts.

We all spent the entire weekend inside to have our sexual escapade for three. I think we’ve done nearly every position we could think of. We haven’t had the chance to reenact that night since our schedules have been extremely busy lately, but we have agreed to have a date night for three the next time.

Copyright 2010 All Rights Protected

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Good for one Quickie

Print this out and present it to your lover and reap the rewards.

Monday, May 17, 2010

The Peak of Pleasure

The Fountain of Ecstasy

Trinity had been hesitant to sleep with Peter John for the first time. It wasn’t because she was ashamed of her full, voluptuous body like society would want her to be or because she was trying to play some sort of “I don’t want you to think I’m a whore” waiting game with him. Nope, Trinity was very attracted to Peter John but she also knew that her pussy has a tendency to mesmerize and captivate men, make them lose their minds. It was a special gift she had, one she couldn’t even control, but it made men lose their minds and she really liked Peter John, she didn’t want to add him to the collection of men went crazy for her special “talent.”

Her hormones got the best of her, however, after a great date with her new boyfriend. Things had been progressing rather nicely between them and Peter John was ready to take things to the next level. He pulled out all the stops one evening, dinner, dancing, and even surprising her with her favorite book, one she’s mentioned in passing and didn’t think he’d remembered. Peter John remembered everything she said. He was into this woman in a big way. She was sexy personified; every head would turn when she walked in the room. Confidence oozed from her very pores.

After dinner, Peter John drove out to the lake and parked his truck. It was a hot summer night and there were a few other couples out to enjoy the cool breeze and the full moon. The couple strolled hand in hand along the pier and then back to sit on a bench and watch the people go by. Peter John pulled her close in his arms, her back towards him, and couldn’t resist filling his hands with her full breasts. Feeling a bit tipsy from the wine and completely intoxicated by his sweet demeanor, Trinity gave in and a moan escaped from her lips. Before long, the couple was groping each other, kissing, and ready for some hot and heavy action. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, pulling his keys from his pocket and grabbing her hand to rush her back to his house.

There’s something about a steamy summer night that makes people take chances. As he opened her door to help her in, Peter John couldn’t resist the temptation. How could he? Trinity’s legs, smooth and brown, were too tempting as she slid in the truck. “Wait, he said, as he slid her around in the seat to face him and got down on his knees in front of her. “I have to taste you NOW. I can’t wait any more.”

Getting down on his knees, PJ began kissing his way up Trinity’s legs, spreading them further. She sounded convincing in telling him to stop, for the full half a second she tried, before she gave into the splendid sensation of her new lover’s soft lips kissing the tender warm flesh between her legs. She leaned back and he pulled her forward more, her full ass on the edge of the seat. Maneuvering her panties down her legs, he tossed them in the back seat and the light of the moon illuminated one of the most beautiful pussies he’d every seen. He wasted no time in diving in; eating her like she was dessert. It’s a good thing he had a sweet tooth because her juices tasted like honey. He was lapping her pussy, licking, sucking, and feasting on her sexy ass. His tongue was in overdrive, licking from her clit to her asshole and back again.

Trinity was out of her mind. The idea of some strange passerby casually strolling up on them and seeing them in the middle of a very public display was turning her on. She grabbed PJ’s head and held it to her pussy. She was chanting, moaning, purring like a kitten, it would have been very obvious to anyone who was interested that some hot and heavy exploration was going on in that vehicle but that couldn’t have been what Ford meant when they were naming their truck.

Peter John was so turned on; he reached in his pants and freed his raging dick. He was doing his best to stroke it but he couldn’t keep his hand off the glorious ass Trinity was grinding on his face. But within a matter of seconds, Trinity was pushing him away. One minute, she was telling him she was going to cum, the next minute, she was saying stop. Confused and sure she had only been seconds from cumming, he backed away and stood up, his dick leaking precum, hard and swollen. Trinity was rubbing her wet pussy and staring at him like he was tender young gazelle and she was a fierce lioness waiting to attack. He stroked his dick watching her, her legs spread, aroused, a look of lust on her face.

He was all too tempting, standing there, wanting her. “Fuck me, she said, and she beckoned him to put his throbbing dick where his tongue had been moments earlier. For a second, for the first few seconds in fact, Peter John thought that he has put his dick in a magical pussy. She was tight and hot and wet, but there was some sort of ridge in her pussy that was hitting the head of his dick and it was sending sensations through his body like he’d never felt before. That same spot was doing magical things to Trinity as well because every time he hit it, she would scream and moan and beg him to fuck her harder. “Yeah, you like that pussy, don’t you? Yeah, oh shit, damn that dick is making me feel good. Yeah, work it in there hard and slow, just like I like it.”

Her legs on his shoulders, Peter John was putting it down. They were both in a zone and loving every second of their passionate love making. Then, all of a sudden, he felt her tense up, he saw her shut her eyes, and he heard her say, “Oh noooo, I’m cumming.”

Then, without warning, it was like someone opened the gates of a dam. With his dick buried deep inside her, and her muscles milking him, he felt her body tremble and her legs tense up and he felt wave after wave of cum shooting out of her pussy. Stunned, he stepped back, only to see Trinity’s pussy shooting cum out like a super soaker. His pants were drenched and the seat of his car was soaked.

Breathing heavily, Trinity tried her best to sit up and apologize. “I’m sorry . . . I uhmmm . . . you see, when I cum I just can’t help it. I tried to warn you when you were eating my pussy. I didn’t want you to drown or choke, but I got distracted when I saw you standing there with your dick so hard.”

“You mean like this?” He looked down at his erection and he was pounding it, stroking it furiously.

“Oh shit, yeah, just like that,” she said, and slid off the seat, pulled her skirt up to reveal her magnificent ass and looked back over her shoulder and said, “I can’t take it, I need your to fuck me again.”

This time, Peter John thought he was prepared but he couldn’t have been more wrong. From behind, that ridge was hitting spots on his dick that made him see stars. He was long stroking, working her, feeling that soft flesh in his hands as Trinity was grinding her pussy on him. “Damn, I love that dick. Are you gonna make me cum again. You gonna make this pussy squirt one more time?”

Peter John grabbed her hips, filling his hands with her and fucking her like a man possessed. This time, her orgasm was met with his, shooting, filling her, adding to the mess that would have to be explained away to the car detailer with some flimsy, lame excuse.

Copyright 2007 AfroerotiK


Saturday, May 15, 2010

What Scottie Wants Too

Recently, I got an inquiry from a young lady who had some questions about my recent essay, What Scottie Wants (http:// I decided I would post her query and my replies here for all to see, discuss, digest, and debate.

I read with great interest the precis of your romantic history, findings of the study you conducted on yourself and the subsequent litany of requirements and expectations facing the next incumbent.

I would like to commend you on an extremely well written piece and for sharing your personal thoughts in such a carefully considered, open, clear and resolute manner.

In the spirit of debate, I have taken the liberty of adding my comments. I also have several questions as I found some of your statements thought-provoking and controversial. I would be most interested to read your responses at your earliest convenience:

While there is nothing wrong with knowing exactly what you want, do you think there is a possibility that treating these things as if they are a grocery list could hold you back from meeting the one for you? What is your success rate applying this new approach?

Do you believe you have opened your heart to more than just the perfect relationship?

I recently read an article on dating and agree with the author's assertion that it is important to have realistic expectations of oneself. The author encouraged me to think - I was born with what I have and try to make the best of it. That is all that matters- end of story. A lot of attraction is based in confidence and attitude. Do what makes me comfortable with what I have and never look back. I wholeheartedly agree with the author's advice that while I we should cut ourselves some slack in the expectation area, we should extend that consideration to other people. Do you, Scottie, expect one man to meet all your criteria? Do you think all those attributes exist in one person exactly as you define them? If such a man does exist, statistically, what do you believe are your chances of meeting him? And if you do meet this man - I would be particularly interested to learn what YOU have to offer HIM?

I think your first two stipulations are perfectly reasonable. I found your third regarding religion, interesting. I actually concur with your opinions on religion however, I was left wondering why you would find a partner affiliated to a major religion (as long as they are not a zealot) so offensive? Do you not consider it possible for YOU to have a successful relationship with someone affiliated to a major religion provided your partner does not try to recruit you to their religion or demean your own beliefs? What about men with affiliations to minor religions? What about a Satanist? Furthermore, would you consider an application from a man who neither shares your view that God is indescribable, scientific, all-encompassing nor believes the earth’s animals could fit on one Ark?

In your section which addresses interests and aptitudes - you mention your dislike of hip-hop which I agree much of is hugely degrading, offensive and misogynist. Would you be interested in a man who agrees with this too though enjoys reggae music some of which is extremely homophobic and misogynist. What about pop music - much of which is churned out by girls/women who have elected to degrade themselves. Heavy Metal music has long been attributed to the suicides of young people (e.g. Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana).

You say you desire a partner who has varied interest he can teach you about but that are not in conflict with your beliefs. Does this mean you are not open to ever changing your mind about something having learnt a new angle on a subject? Do you really mean by 'not in conflict with your belief' - 'be prepared to always agree with you?' This is a question, not an accusation.

You say you need someone in your life who is equally as committed to telling the truth, monogamy, doing what’s right even when it’s not easy, with respect for their family, who carries themselves with dignity, and who treats you with reverence at all times. You say you have learnt the hard way that compromising on someone who doesn’t see the value in honesty, integrity, and upstanding character will ultimately make you unhappy in the relationship. This is an excellent standard to set oneself but can you honestly say you deserve to be treated with reverence (a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe; veneration) at all times?

You say you would prefer that your man be a man of color, what color exactly doesn’t really matter to me. I will remain open to that man being white as long as he meets all my other criteria as well. Could you please define what constitutes a 'man of color' so I can understand what your preference is? If the color does not matter, how do you then explain having a preference?

I was not offended or outraged by your final pre-requisite - just intrigued and a little confused.

"If there is one thing that I’ve held fast to on my list, that hasn’t changed in the past few years, that has offended and outraged more people than any other thing on my list, is the fact that I require my partner to be openly bisexual. I require a man who has redefined his sexuality, who is comfortable with his sexuality, who is open to loving and being loved by another man"

You desire an openly bisexual man yet you also desire a man who is willing to be monogamous. How would that work? How can a man be monogamous (you said you require a man who is committed to monogamy) and be conducting sexual relationships with other men? You say you are willing to compromise on that depending on the person and the dynamics we share; if you find a partner who is all that you seek and he’s interested in maintaining relationships with other men, you will certainly entertain the conversation, see what sort of compromise you can come to that doesn’t hurt your feelings or leave him feeling unsatisfied - yet you have repeatedly said you are not prepared to compromise on any of your requirements. Why would you need to compromise anyway if you are actively seeking a bisexual man? You say you would like a man who is open to loving and being loved by another man. What about being loved by another woman?

You say you long since given up my need to be with another woman - just out of interest, why is that?

Another point - a man who can cry when he has to and not feel that’s a determinant of his manhood has absolutely nothing to do with sex and sexuality. My brother is gay and feels most uncomfortable about crying. What about women who find it difficult to cry if they need to - I know a few of those too.

I would be most interested to know what it means to be 'sexually progressive'. Sexually 'open' I understand but how does one 'progress' sexually in this context - I would like to understand the difference.

I very much look forward to hearing from you soon. Thank you again for giving me so much food for thought - I now have indigestion!

Here is my reply:

First, let me say that I usually have no reason or inclination to respond to individuals who question my preferences because they are just that, my preferences. If you don’t like my preferences or you have different ones, then so be it. I’m not trying to convince anyone that my preferences are ones that all people should adopt or that mine have more validity than anyone else’s. I am unique and I bring a certain set of talents, abilities, and dynamics to the table that require an equally unique mate. I find that most people who question my criteria, more often than not, posses a warped need to feel superior, so they condescend in order to try to tear me down or make me feel insecure about my preferences in a mate. Perhaps that’s not the case with you but I’ll entertain your spirit of debate because I don’t mind explaining myself for your benefit today. I’m quite confident in my choices and if you take issue with them or feel a need to question me or need clarification, I can play along.

If someone were shopping for a car and they said they needed a car that seated six comfortably that got 30 miles per gallon and had GPS navigation, On Star, side air bags, video monitors, Sirrus Radio, and came in Black, I suspect you wouldn’t question their preferences nor would you assert that they shouldn’t have a list nor would you try to demean them for the things that they prefer. Everyone has lists of what they want in a partner, some longer than others, some more superficial than others, some realistic, others not. Being specific about what you want is not a bad thing, whether it’s for an inanimate object or for a person. Trivializing my criteria for a mate down to nothing more than a “grocery list” takes nothing away from the fact that I have been in relationships, I’ve grown, I’ve taken the time to assess what works for me and what doesn’t. I’ve worked on myself and I’m clear on what sort of partner I desire in my life and with what sort of person I would be most compatible. It’s no different than you saying you want a three bedroom house with a garage, a finished basement, a corner lot, an updated kitchen, in a neighborhood with good schools, and a pool. If someone were to suggest to you that you shouldn’t have a list and that that list was standing in your way of actually getting what you want, you’d probably laugh and tell them to kiss your ass. If you find a great house and it doesn’t have a pool but there’s a community pool a couple blocks away, you, being a mature person, would reassess your list of must haves and adjust it accordingly. If an individual doesn’t have criteria for what he or she desires in a mate, they will settle for anyone and anything and their relationship will be doomed for failure. The Temple at Delphi cautions us to “Know Thyself”. I do, intricately and intimately. And armed with that knowledge of self, I have a list of things that are tolerable and other things that are not that form my wish list for a partner. Will I eliminate a great many people with my list? Yes, and that’s the point. I’m not interested in anyone who is average. Am I willing to compromise on my list? To a certain extent, yes. If I find someone who has 7 or 8 out of 10 things I want in a partner, I will certainly give them a chance. Will I lower my standards in order to appease the egos of people who try to assert that my list is unrealistic or too specific? Not a chance in hell. I didn’t say I wanted someone who was 6’3” tall who makes a million dollars a year and drives a blah, blah, blah type of car and who has a 10 bedroom home. I want a man whose intellectual, spiritual, social, sexual, and mental energies match my own. That’s not asking too much and moreover, I think everyone should be searching for a partner who matches them on those criteria, whatever levels or energies they may be.

I’m not looking for a perfect person, I’m looking for the perfect relationship FOR ME. I made it very clear that I’ve opened myself up to shades of gray when it comes to finding a partner. Yes, I want the perfect relationship for me as everyone should want, desire, and seek the perfect relationship for them. I desire a peaceful, harmonious, emotionally mature, committed, healthy, monogamous relationship. Why would I want something flawed and dysfunctional? I don’t think any person is perfect, including myself but that doesn’t mean I should have no standards for what sort of relationship I seek either or seek a relationship that doesn’t fulfill me.

There is not one thing on my list of criteria that I don’t possess. Again, I’m not looking for perfection within one person. I don’t expect him to be without flaw, I simply seek a partner whose flaws compliment and balance mine in such a way that we can form the bond that sets the stage for a long term relationship. My chances of meeting, connecting with, and establishing a relationship with my ideal partner are just as good as, if not better than Joe Blow average on the street. Yes, my dating pool is limited because I don’t want the average man and I have criteria that reduces the number of potential partners BUT I’m more prepared than most to form a healthy relationship; I’ve done more work on myself, I’ve refined, transformed, and evolved more than most people who meet someone in the online and form a relationship based on their own insecurities, flaws, and unresolved issues.

And since you want to question what I bring to the table, I’ll tell you EXACTLY why I will be a great partner for my future mate. I am a woman of unparalled integrity. I am a mother of a movement to educate and enlighten, to which I’ve dedicated and sacrificed my life, I am an outspoken activist, author, and caregiver. I posses above average intelligence and a kind, warm, giving heart. I have done the work on myself, I am fully aware of the triggers I have that set off my feelings of insecurity and abandonment. I am an excellent communicator, I have evolved past the lies and mistruths that shaped the consciousness of African Americans and I work diligently to dismantle the stronghold the chains of mental slavery possess over my people. I am a champion for the oppressed, creative, artistic, logical, well rounded, and I’m autonomous. I am not at all materialistic nor do I ascribe to the trappings of capitalism yet I’m sophisticated, classy, well-traveled, and down to earth. And to top it off, I’m together enough and comfortable enough in my own skin to not at all be intimidated by people who want to question me and what I bring to the table.

If someone believes in all the stipulations of the word’s major religions, if they have not ever questioned, investigated, or explored other truths, then I would be hopelessly doomed in a relationship with said person. I am an academic, I would not be happy, satisfied or fulfilled with a, shall we say, dim witted person. Equally, I cannot ever be satisfied with a person who believes God is a man and all the folk tales and mythologies of the major religions. If I meet someone who says that they were raised Christian and then questioned its tenants and decided that they were more comfortable as an Atheist or Zoroastrian or Pagan or whatever, I’m cool with that. Clearly, I’m not going to be with someone whose religion teaches hatred or human sacrifice or worshipping evil. It’s absurd to think that I would be enamored with anyone whose religious beliefs were in direct contradictions to my life’s mission but as long as they weren’t Christian I would be okay with it. I don’t need a person to believe the exact same things as I do but I can’t have a partner who believes in the fairy tales of Judeo/Christian oppression either. I thought I made that clear previously but apparently my writing skills aren’t as adept as I once thought.

Not every song in hip-hop is offensive, not every song is misogynist and degrading. There are even some hip-hop artists who are positive and conscious. Of course if I met a man who liked hip-hop and listened to the more enlightened artists, I would be fine with it. Perhaps I need to be more specific. REGARDLESS OF THE GENRE, I’m not going to date a man who likes, enjoys, or supports music that degrades my gender, race, sexuality, or any oppressed class. I’m always willing to learn but I don’t want a partner who is going to try to teach me the values of calling women bitches or how the bible is the only true living word of God. I want a mate who can expand my consciousness, who can help me grow and evolve, who can teach me things I’ve never been exposed to before, not who is going to argue with me over things I stand in firm disagreement with. I’m open and receptive to learning about art, music, the theater, food, wine, travel, metaphysics, science, philosophy and a whole host of topics that I don’t a thing about but are not in contradiction with my beliefs. Only the most self-centered person would assume that there can be a relationship without disagreement. I don’t desire a relationship fraught with conflict and arguments but I don’t arrogantly assume that there is going to be a utopian relationship where we only see each other as perfect all day, every day either. In my last relationship, my ex and I didn’t share similar philosophical beliefs at all and yet we never argued. We got along extremely well, even in stressful situations, we communicated our disagreements better than most couples have the knowledge or ability to do. It’s not a stretch to say that I’d like to be in a relationship with someone whose ideological beliefs compliment my own and we don’t have to argue and yet he can still teach me about things that are not in conflict with my core beliefs. I refuse to even address your assertion that I don’t deserve to be treated with reverence because every human being is deserving of being treated with awe and respect from the person with whom they share their life.

My preference is for a man of color, any color, who has a unique cultural identity different from the oppressive Caucasian standard by which men and society are measured. I desire a man who has a different history, who has different cultural practices of which he’s extremely proud and committed to preserving. I desire a man of color who has not been born with the unearned privileges of white men and who has struggled to maintain his unique identity in a world that wishes to erase, eradicate, and legalize homogeneity. I’m not attracted to men who have the disease of “whiteness” and the arrogance, condescension, and fallacy of supremacy that Caucasian men inherit. Whether he be Tongan, Incan, Aborigine, Eskimo, from the untouchable caste in India, or an undocumented Mexican, it doesn’t matter to me. The vast majority of the world’s population are people of color and I’m not attracted to the minority who belong to the race of people who participate in their oppression.

I am bisexual and completely capable of being monogamous in a relationship thus I don’t think it would be difficult to find the same in my partner. I have been with other women, I have loved other women, I have fucked other women, (very well in fact) and I don’t have a need to explore that part of my sexuality again. I will forever be attracted to women, certain women who match my criteria suffice it to say, and I will never give up my bisexual label, but if I don’t sleep with another woman again I won’t feel as if my life has been compromised or I’m missing out on something. I am not a man, however, and I don’t posses any of the things that a man can offer my mate. Therefore, if I meet a man who needs to feel the physical and emotional sensations he experiences when he’s with a man, then I must remain open to opening up our relationship to another man. Would I prefer that he sees me as the complete package to satisfy his sexual urges, of course, but I’m not sexually na├»ve enough to fail to recognize that even if I strap on and fuck my man in the ass, I’m still not a man and can’t give that intangible male thing that men have. If I were still actively attracted to women, I would expect my mate to be understanding of the fact that only a woman can provide certain stimuli for me, a certain softness, a certain ineffable “femaleness” that a man can’t provide. If I have a man who just wants other pussy, that isn’t going to work. A man who can’t control his sexual urges for variety isn’t a man I’m interested in nor would he be one I’m involved with.

I’m not attracted to emotionally stunted people, whether they be straight, gay, black, white, male or female. And since I’ve learned to anticipate your objections, I’m not attracted to emotionally stunted people of any race, creed, gender, religion, political affiliation, height, weight, or hair color. I’m not attracted to overly emotionally people either regardless of their sexual preference or chromosomal makeup or melanin content. I seek a balanced partner who can cry when he’s sad, angry, or hurt to release his emotions and who can move on, not wallow in feelings of self-pity, and experience an entire range of emotions in a healthy manner.

I desire a partner who not only can be open to exploring a myriad of sexual acts with me without feelings of guilt or shame but also who has no need to denigrate or denounce homosexual, bisexual, transgendered, asexual, or intersexed individuals for their preferences and practices either. Dare I say I even want him to be supportive of individuals in their search for sexual freedom and expression. That’s my definition of sexually progressive.

I certainly hope that clarifies things for you and that you find, meet and fall in love with your perfect partner as well.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

What Scottie Wants

I consider myself somewhat of an elitist; I’m not entertained by the same sorts of things that hold the masses captive. I gave up television for nearly a decade, didn’t own one at all, and I was very content entertaining and educating myself with the real world. I found the programming offensive, even back then, and that was LONG before reality television and the degrading shows that overwhelm the airwaves today. Even since transitioning back into the world of the boob tube, I limit my television watching to a few tried and true shows that don’t insult my intelligence, gender, or race. I pretty much stick to TNT, USA, The Food Network, and HGTV and very rarely stray. Recently, my cable network changed the station number of HGTV and I wasn’t sure of the new channel number so I just set out to surf around until I found it. What a tragic mistake that was.

I stumbled upon a show called, “What Chili Wants” on VH1 and something, some ineffable force, led me to leave the TV on that channel and watch the entire show. I was horrified on so many different levels that I was left speechless, staring at the screen in disbelief, looking around at my darkened, empty room, to find solace where there was none and expressing shame and disgust with myself for watching what was the equivalent of a cultural car crash. For those who don’t know and who have never seen the show (and I’m going to hope that constitutes a great number of readers) the premise is finding a mate for one of the members of the girl group TLC, Chili. Apparently, as she ages, she feels the pressures of that damned biological clock (and honey, let me tell you that clock is REAL) and she’s looking for a partner with whom she can settle down and raise a family. That part, I have no issue with. I’m there with her, I feel her pain; I am her. Anything and everything beyond that, turned my stomach.

Evidently, the producers at VH1 felt that Chili needed the assistance of a . . . a . . . a young lady, I refuse to use the word professional, to help her in finding a match. This young lady, whose name I don’t know and don’t care to know, was directed to find suitable men to set Chili up with on a series of blind dates to see if she found someone who matched her list of criteria for a potential mate. Now, I don’t know everything on this list but I could ascertain that he was to be Christian, older (relatively speaking), ready to commit to a relationship, attractive, and successful. I’m sure there were other things on the list but the show didn’t allude to them. In the particular episode I watched, Chili and this young lady had some tension because Chili wouldn’t lower her standards to date any one of the dozen or so men she was selected to date. Suffice it to say, this particular matchmaker wasn’t qualified to fill an order at a drive through window, let alone counsel anyone as to what makes a good partner and what qualities or characteristics should be compromised or not in seeking that soul mate. Suggesting that she lower her standards and setting her up with individuals who didn’t even meet her minimum criteria has to be, unequivocally, the WORST advice anyone could give in the process of finding a potential partner. The message in all of this absurdity was, having a man, any man, is better than being alone and as long as he’s attractive and employed, shut your mouth and be happy.

I recently ended a relationship, one in which I admittedly compromised my standards, and I ended up paying the price for it in the end. I’m still in the healing process and I am doing my level best to redefine what I want and need in my next relationship. Over the years, my personal list has changed, well, it’s evolved more than changed. I’ve refined what I want and I’m more determined now than ever to be stricter, more selective, more discerning in my partners and for good reason. If I have a certain set of criterion that is essential for me in forming a relationship, then if I compromise in those essentials, I will set myself up for failure. Most men, and quite a few women as well, get offended when I say that I will not compromise on my standards. They immediately interpret that to mean that I will not compromise in the relationship which is something totally different and untrue. There’s even a large collective of men who feel insulted when the things on my list of requirements don’t encompass qualities or characteristics that they possess. Apparently, I’m a bitch if I don’t lower my standards to date any and every man who thinks I’m attractive.

I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but I can assure you that I’m a great partner in a relationship. Now great is relative because what I bring to the table, not everyone wants or cares about. Most people don’t have high standards for a partner. I suspect the majority of people want superficial things in a partner, like a certain level income, car, or a certain height, weight, skin tone, or some other meaningless trait that has nothing whatsoever to do with the quality of the person they to whom they are going to committ. Another contingent of people want characteristics so general, so non-specific, that almost anyone can fit their criteria. Simply saying, “I want someone who is intelligent and nice,” can cover a multitude of sins when trying to find someone who will be a great partner. Intelligence is relative and nice is subjective and neither of those things can reveal how a person is going to treat you in a partnership.

So, in my effort to be extremely specific as to what I require in a mate, I’m going to set out my criteria exactly for what Scottie wants. I don’t want what any other woman wants. I don’t want what most men bring to the table. I’m not interested in editing, modifying, or changing my list to appease anyone else’s ego.

• I require a man who is emotionally mature and introspective. That means he has to be able to express his feelings, show emotion when appropriate, communicate his position without projecting, blaming, or deflecting guilt, rage, or passive aggressiveness. I expect him to have done a great deal of work on himself, his issues, and to be able to articulate his challenges, to know the areas he still has to work on and be willing to grow and learn.

• I need chemistry. I’ve attempted to date men in the past who are, for all intents and purposed, very nice and suitable partners, but there is no attraction or chemistry. I can’t do that anymore. I need that spark, I need that electricity, that intangible connection that allows us to get each other’s joke, to communicate non-verbally from across a room, to just enjoy each other’s company without having to say a word. There is no rhyme or reason as to why I have innate chemistry with some men and not with others; I simply know that I am unwilling to form a relationship with someone unless that element is present. So much of forming a healthy, happy relationship is contingent upon being happy and without that chemistry the relationship is superficial. I need to be as physically attracted to my mate as I am spiritually, socially, intellectually, mentally, and culturally and we have to have an attraction to one another that goes beyond mere affection. If I am going to wake up next to someone every day for the rest of my life, I want to experience joy when I do, not regret, ambivalence or dread.

• It is essential for me to have a partner who doesn’t affiliate himself with any major religion. Religion is man-made and created to keep people oppressed and uninformed. I can’t form a relationship with someone who thinks that God is male, that people were created from dirt, or that the only people who are going to be favored by God are those who believe exactly as he does. I am spiritual; I believe in something infinitely wiser and more ordered than anything the human mind can comprehend. I’m not so arrogant to assume that anyone has the right answers as to how to define God, but I know it’s not a male being, I know it’s not random and arbitrary; I know I cannot form a relationship with anyone who has those beliefs. Are there others who can form relationship across religious beliefs? Sure. I’m not one of them. I need a partner who has questioned, researched, evaluated, and studied all the world’s religions and found truth in all of them and, ultimately, the frailties of all of them as well. To partner with someone who doesn’t share my beliefs would be tantamount to saying that what I know to be true isn’t true. If I believe that God is indescribable, scientific, all-encompassing, to partner with someone who believes at all the earth’s animals could fit on one Ark would setting that relationship up for failure.

• Similar interests and aptitude are essential for my partner. I don’t require that he like the exact same things as I do but he can’t like things that I find offensive. It would be great to find a man who likes the same music and movies and who loves to write as much as I do but that’s not possible or even reasonable to expect from someone. I would like, however, someone who respects that hip-hop (the vast and overwhelming majority of it) is misogynist, offensive, and degrading. I will not date a man who thinks that the N word is funny, appropriate, or no big deal. I will not ever, never, ever in my life date anyone whose political beliefs are right leaning. I would like a man who is as equally right brained as he is left brained. I desire a partner who can read my stories, articles, and essays and contribute thoughtful, insightful commentary without trying to debate or berate my every word. There are too many social ills that need to be fought in the world, I have no desire to fight with my man about the things I’m trying to educate and enlighten people about. I desire a partner who has varied interest he can teach me about but that are not in conflict with my beliefs.

• Sharing similar ethics, values, morals, and governing principles are essentials for my next mate. I need someone in my life who is equally as committed to telling the truth, monogamy, doing what’s right even when it’s not easy, with respect for their family, who carries themselves with dignity, and who treats me with reverence at all times. I learned the hard way that compromising on someone who doesn’t see the value in honesty, integrity, and upstanding character will ultimately make me unhappy in the relationship.

• There was a time when I would have said that my partner had to be African-centered. I’m willing to amend that and say that my partner has to respect that I see myself as a citizen of the world, that my spiritual and cultural homeland is Africa, and that I do not adhere to the vast majority of Eurocentric norms held as the standard. I have come to see that most people who identify as African-centered, Black Nationalist, or any other pro-Black movement have only replaced one set of oppressive beliefs for another. I desire a partner who can respect my identity as a Black woman, my hair as a political statement, my gender as an oppressed class, and my desire to stand up for the downtrodden people of the planet.

• I would prefer that my man be a man of color, what color exactly doesn’t really matter to me. I will remain open to that man being white as long as he meets all my other criteria as well. I will not date a white man simply because I find the pool of Black men lacking. He has to be held to the same standard as I would hold to my brothas and even higher because he has to have rid himself of his false sense of superiority that white men born in this country inherit and he must be willing to eradicate the fallacy of white supremacy alongside me. Is it likely that I will find a white man like that? Not very but I am not ruling out the possibility of finding love across the color lines. I don’t want to die old and alone. I’d like companionship and love and if that man is not a man of color, as long as he genuinely loves and respects me, I’m willing to do the work necessary to make it work.

• If there is one thing that I’ve held fast to on my list, that hasn’t changed in the past few years, that has offended and outraged more people than any other thing on my list, is the fact that I require my partner to be openly bisexual. I require a man who has redefined his sexuality, who is comfortable with his sexuality, who is open to loving and being loved by another man. I require a man who is sex-positive, meaning he has to be accepting of lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and the transgendered community. I will not date a man who is down low, meaning he’s bisexual but not willing to admit it to those whom are interested. It is essential for me to find a partner who has redefined masculinity and manhood in his life, who appreciates and respects that being receptive does not mean being weak, that male and female are compliments, not opponents. Most Black women want a heterosexual man, they think that bisexual men have AIDS, or they want a man who is macho and unemotional. Good for them. I want a man who can cry when he has to and not feel that’s a determinant of his manhood. I want a man who doesn’t have to tell gay jokes and bash gay men in front of his friends in order to validate his manhood. I’ve been told time and time again that I won’t be able to find a bisexual man who is willing to be monogamous but I am willing to compromise on that depending on the person and the dynamics we share. I’ve long since given up my need to be with another woman but if I find a partner who is all that I seek and he’s interested in maintaining relationships with other men, I will certainly entertain the conversation, see what sort of compromise we can come to that doesn’t hurt my feelings or leave him feeling unsatisfied. Too much of my identity and my mission is wrapped up in liberating our people from our sexual dysfunctions and I don’t want a man who believes that men can only get or receive pleasure in certain ways in order for them to be a real man. If he is not as open-minded and progressive as I am about issues of sex, we will not be a good match.

What Scottie wants is compatibility. What Scottie needs is love, respect, and commitment to forming a healthy, long-term, emotionally mature relationship. I want someone who fits my criteria because I’ve worked long and hard on myself, because I’m unique and I don’t have cookie cutter needs, because I deserve a partner who fits me like a glove and I won’t compromise my standards for love or money.