Key Elements for a Healthy Relationship

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I Want a Lover with a Slow Hand

Life is always giving us opportunities to grow and evolve, right?  Ever the introspective one, I’m always attempting to look within, challenge my beliefs systems, and heal my wounds by being radically honest and self-aware.  I had the opportunity recently to connect intimately with a potential partner.  For several reasons, I decided that it was going to be several months before we had sex.  Of course, there were times when I was hot and bothered and I rationalized how several weeks rather than months would be sufficient for our self-imposed abstinence.  Of course, at times, I was so incredibly aroused I was willing to say, “To hell with weeks, days, hours, or minutes, I need you inside me NOW!”  Calmer heads prevailed and we didn’t have sex.  I’m fortunate that we didn’t because I subsequently learned that he was not anywhere near the quality and caliber of man that I was looking for in a partner and sex would have not only made me more intimately bonded to him, it also would have made it virtually impossible (or, more accurately, extremely difficult) for me to break that bond when he revealed his true, disingenuous colors.  In our erotic exploration, however, I learned a few things about myself and my erotic needs.  

I have a clear vision of what I want, crave, and need from a lover.  AfroerotiK is not just my company, my brand, a vehicle for my writing, it is my philosophy.  AfroerotiK is how I live my life.  My lover, the man who will ultimately get to share my body in ways that few will ever tastes the pleasures of, is someone who does not feel the need to degrade me during sex.  While I understand clearly that the prevalence of porn and women who have been socialized to be objects creates an almost understated forgone conclusion that women will want to be called a bitch, whore, and a slut during sex, that we will want to be pounded, slapped, and made to suck dick, gag, and willingly accept cum on our faces or down our throats and enjoy it, there are some of us, at the very least I am absolutely NOT aroused by or interested in any such treatment.  That doesn’t mean that I need slow and gentle lovemaking with candles burning and Teddy Pendergrass playing every time in the background.  I just need the simple acknowledgment that he understands that my body is a gift to him and that I don’t feel any arousal at being objectified, used, or humiliated.  I love getting fucked.  In fact, I adore the concept of my lover being so incredibly aroused that he is driven to fits of almost maniacal lust inside me.  My lover will not need to spank, slap, restrain or call me names during sex.  That means that I want him to see me as the special, unique, and wonderful woman I am.  I cannot and will not tolerate being called names in the heat of passion in order to appease a male ego that needs to degrade women in order to feel arousal.  

I desire a lover who understands well that intimacy, sensuality, and passion are intricately tied to lovemaking and that sex is an expression of spiritual and emotional communion and love as well as lust and desire.  I need a lover who understands that making love is not just fucking slow.   He will understand that the more time he takes to get me wet the more I will be willing to show my passion for him in virtually unspeakable and unthinkable ways.   He will be willing to take his time to learn my body.  And by take his time, I don’t mean 30 minutes of foreplay and dirty talk, I mean weeks if need be to understand what buttons to push to make me soak the sheets and wake the neighbors.  I need a lover who will slowly, sensually, caress every square inch of my body in an effort to provide me with pleasure, not just a perfunctory, half-hearted massage that barely masks his thinly-veiled attempts to get to get directly to my pussy.  The man who understands that my asshole needs slow, tender gentle attention in order to get to the fast, furious earth-shattering fucking that will come when he takes his time.  I am not the first woman you fucked when you were 16 years old and what she liked is surely not what I will like.  I need someone who can understand that my body is sensitive in ways that most other women’s is not and that biting, pinching and grabbing will not get me anywhere near the place where I’m begging to have a man inside me.  Quite a few men would do well to learn how to give a good massage, not trying to squeeze and knead out tension like a sports therapist but to play my body like an instrument, coaxing it to arousal with soft caresses.   

One of the traits that is essential for me in a man is his ability to control his lusts.  If a man feels he must masturbate every day, look at porn every single day, then it’s apparent to me that he can only see sex as a physical outlet and that I am nothing more than a receptacle for his sperm, a masturbatory aide.  Masturbation is healthy, it feels good, it’s a much needed release.  Being unable to go a week or even two weeks without ejaculation is a sign of sexual immaturity and dysfunction.  Yes, I fully understand that men tend to have higher sex drives than women and I’m almost sure I understand that what they feel is vastly different to the sensations I feel when I orgasm.  That being said, however, a sexually mature individual is someone who can appreciate delayed gratification.  I’m sure there are lots of men who are offended by the concept of me suggesting that their daily masturbation is somehow wrong.  For them, perhaps it is not.  For my potential lover however, it most certainly is.  A man who is driven by his need to cum is a man who will lie, cheat, and manipulate in order to get sex.  That man has absolutely NO chance of ever experiencing my body.  I might add that there are some men who say that they never masturbate.  I think I am to understand that they say that masturbation doesn’t feel as good as the real thing, that it’s not manly, or there is some biblical reason to abstain from self pleasure.  Those are the very same men who will fuck anyone without standard or discrimination in order to get off.  Needless to say, those men are not the men who will gain access to my sacred space either.  Balance and maturity are the keys to my treasure.  

My AfroerotiK lover is one who will use his lips, tongue, and mouth gently to explore every inch of my body.  He will be willing to take the time to bathe my body, anoint me with oils and lotions, lick my pussy softly and sensually until I’m creaming in his mouth and begging for him to penetrate me.  He will use his dick, not as a weapon to stab but as an vehicle of pleasure to drive me to fits of pleasure, orgasm, and ecstasy over and over and over again.  

Copyright 2011 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved

Transformation

The bartender noticed the slight movement of hand and the universal nod as the gentleman discreetly ordered another round of drinks while his date wasn’t looking.  He wasn’t trying to get her drunk; he was actually trying to work up his nerve.  Who would have thought that Doug Rivers, President and CEO of Major Conglomerate, Inc., or some such corporate plantation, would be nervous on a date with the overnight security guard in his office building? 

He had seen her for months.  He would leave his office at midnight and return at 6 a.m. and she would be there, competent, friendly, efficient and smiling.  Even with their brief interaction, Doug could tell that she wasn’t the usual overnight lackey that used the job to catch up on sleep or play video games on the computer.  She always looked him in the eye, anticipated his wants and followed up with details above and beyond what Doug required. 

Regina Marvel took her job seriously but it wasn’t difficult to do.  The job was beneath her, she dangerously underemployed and could do the job with one hand tied behind her back.  It fit her schedule perfectly however, she could go to school in the evenings, use the overnight shift to study and do research and sleep during the day.  It was the perfect gig for a grad student and she was going to take advantage of the situation as long as it was beneficial to her. 

There was something about Regina that absolutely fascinated Doug.  He found himself lingering in the lobby on his way home for inexplicable reasons.  He would actually look forward to their brief encounters on his way to the lobby in the elevator, aware that she could see his every move on the security cameras.  He wanted to strike up a conversation with her but he wasn’t sure exactly how-- or why for that matter.  She was a freakin’ security guard for God’s sake.  AND Black.  He was almost positive that he wasn’t attracted to her.  Regina was NOT his type.  Doug could get any Playboy centerfold of his choice.  If he met a bimbo and something wasn’t exactly to his liking, he had the money and the wherewithal to hire the best plastic surgeons money could buy to remedy it.  Surely, Doug Rivers could have any blonde-haired, blue-eyed, size 2 woman he wanted.  Why on earth would he find himself looking forward to seeing her every day?  Sure, she had a pretty face but she was every bit of size 18.  The top button on her navy blue uniform did little to hide her ample cleavage and Doug found himself trying to not stare occasionally. 

His curiosity could not be contained one night when he peeked over the desk one night and asked, “What are you reading back there?”

“Re-reading actually.  It’s a standard.  Patricia Hill-Collins’ Black Feminist Thought.  I’m dismantling the womanist vs. feminist argument YET AGAIN for my professor. 

Doug froze.  He’d never expected a response like that.  “Wow, I’ve never even heard of Patricia Hope-Collins yet alone can I articulate what the hell a womanist is.  I didn’t think you were that smart . . . “   He felt like an idiot the second the words left his mouth.  He never intended to be disrespectful, even to the hourly employees.  He knew he had insulted her and the sincerity in his voice was apparent as he said, “ I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“It’s Hill-Collins and don’t sweat it.  I get it all the time at this job.  People expect me to be functionally illiterate and stupid all time.  It’s part of the job . . . It’s part of your white privilege.  You don’t have to see me as a human being.  I’m just the black body behind the desk to wait on you hand and foot.”  Regina had never been one to censor her true thoughts and the words flowed from her mouth without even the slightest hesitation. 

Doug felt the blood rise up in his cheeks.  He was mad at her for being so blunt and mad at himself because she was right.  He couldn’t let her know that he was so shaken by her forwardness.  “I’m not racist . . . I see everyone the same . . .  color doesn’t matter.”  He was spewing out clichés left and right, stumbling over his words in an effort to ease the guilt and the fact that he was painfully aware the that higher the floor number in his company the lower the numbers of African Americans.  “I don’t think that at all,” he mumbled.  “And to prove it,” gaining more nerve as he spoke,” how about I take you out for a drink on Saturday night to make up for my stupidity?  You can explain to me what womanism is.”  The words came out before he knew what he had said. 

“Mr. Rivers, I don’t need your pity date.  I’m quite confident in who I am and I don’t need to validate my intellect or personhood to alleviate your white guilt.” 

How dare she!  The gauntlet had been thrown.  How dare she challenge his motivations.  Did she have any idea who she just turned down?  Doug wondered if she had any idea how many zeroes he had in his net worth.  He was incensed that she would be so bold as to reject his offer.  There was some movement in his slacks that indicated that she had pushed the right buttons however and stirred him to an almost maniacal competitive passion. 

“This isn’t a pity date and I won’t take no for an answer.  I’ll pick you up here at 8 on Saturday,” his ego dictating his words more than common sense at that point.  “I sincerely want to get to know you better.” 

Regina laughed at his persistence and said, “If you are going to pick me up you will pick me up at my home, like a gentleman.  Unless you are afraid to come to the ghetto, Mr. Rivers . . . ,” her voice trailing off leaving a trail of innuendo and challenge. 

At that moment, Doug wanted to say, “My roommate in college was Black,” but he had attended enough of those damn sensitivity workshops to know that would be digging a deeper hole for himself.  Regina had scribbled her address on a post-it and extended it to him as an unspoken invitation. “Eight it is,” he said.

Doug was pleasantly surprised at the neighborhood that Regina lived in.  Half because he expected her to live in the ghetto and half because it looked relatively affluent and ALL Black.  He knocked on the door promptly at 8, hoping he could ease his guilt, have a drink and have her home by 9:30.  Then it would be on to a wild night of drinking and partying with the boys. 

Doug could barely believe his eyes when she opened the door.  Gone was the navy blue polyester uniform and conservative demeanor of the night security guard.  Before him was an astonishingly beautiful woman.  Her hair was down, rather than in a severe bun, and it framed her lovely face.  Her eyes were dramatic and smoky and her lips were seductive red.  She was wearing a gold colored blouse that came off the shoulder and a rust colored silk skirt that hugged her full hips, thighs and round ass.  Her smooth legs were bare and she had the tiniest high-heeled sandals that looked like nothing more than a delicate leather string that went across her perfectly pedicured toes and around her ankles.  She smelled like a mix of coconut and jasmine and something else . . . something feminine.  Her brown skin was luminescent and staring at her curvaceous figure and dazzling smile he wondered momentarily how he had not found Black women more attractive previously.  Regina was nothing less than breathtaking.

At that moment, Doug knew he was in over his head.  He quickly changed his game plan and decided to take her to his favorite exclusive martini and cigar bar.  If there was ever an atmosphere for seduction, it was there.  It was dark and secluded and the perfect environment for some sensual interplay . . . or foreplay if he was lucky.  He wasn’t sure if this was a game anymore or pure desire. 

Regina controlled the conversation, her wit, charm and intellect completely blowing Doug out of the water.  When she laughed she leaned in close and put her hand on his thigh, when she listening to his tales of mergers, takeovers and general male bravado, she licked her lips seductively and maintained her seductive eye contact.  The semi-erection Doug sported all night served to make his stories more animated and his movements guarded. 

After a few drinks and more than enough flirtation, Regina took control.  “Mr. Rivers,” she leaned in close,” Let’s drop the pretenses here, shall we? There’s enough chemistry between us to win the Half Hollow Hills Annual Science Fair.  Let’s go back to my place and see what happens.  No strings.” 

Doug swallowed hard.  He had never been with a Black woman before.  He wondered silently if it would look different, taste different, feel different.  What would his friends say?  Would they be able to tell just by looking at him that he was “different”?  A million thoughts raced through his head.  Only one word came out.  “Sure.”

He was out of his element in her home.  It was beautifully decorated, immaculate and filled with exquisite examples of Black artwork.  Doug never before considered that Black people would have all Black people in their artwork.  He hadn’t even considered that such a genre existed.  He sat nervously as she went to make herself more comfortable.  She emerged from the bedroom in a white satin nightgown.  Her nipples poked through the shiny material and her full breasts were overflowing.  In her bare feet now, she sat close to him to resume her seduction. 

Doug’s eyes couldn’t focus.  He wanted to touch her hair to see if it felt different, touch her skin to see if it felt like the velvet he imagined it to look like.  His body was alive with electricity.   “What am I doing here,” he kept thinking to himself, “she’s the overnight security guard?”    No matter what her job, or his for that matter; he knew he wanted her with every ounce of his being. 

Breaking the ice, Regina leaned in close and kissed Doug.  Her lips tasted like the slightest hint of strawberry.  Doug closed his eyes and felt his male instinct take over.  Gone were the roles and the titles, this was a man and a woman and she was about to receive every bit of his all out maneuvers.  He was intoxicated with her full lips and soft tongue.  As he cradled the back of her head he marveled at how soft her hair was.  His hands roamed freely over her curves, caressing gently her small waist and sexy bottom. 

At that point Regina was a simmering hotbed of hormones.  She didn’t give a damn if it was Duke of Windsor on her sofa, she was aroused, he was a man, and she was a woman.  They kissed more passionately, the fever rising higher.  She could feel the wetness between her legs increase.  She felt for his dick, half expecting to be disappointed.  It wasn’t the biggest dick she’d ever felt in her life but it seemed formidable enough to do the job.  It certainly was hard and it belonged to a man that was the object of her desire at that particular moment.  She placed his hand in hers and said, “let’s go.” 

The trail of men’s clothing that led to her bedroom looked like a fitting room at Saks during their annual blowout sale.  For a moment it was looking doubtful that they would make it to the bedroom at all.  Regina had lit candles and incense when she had changed her clothes so the room was warm, almost too warm, and the scent made Doug slightly light headed.  She stood before him and lowered the straps to her gown and sensuously stepped out of it, glowing in the candlelight. 

Doug was so hard it almost hurt and he was leaking precum like a teenager.  His own insecurities flashed in his mind momentarily.  “Will I be enough to satisfy her,” he thought?  Sensing his reluctance, Regina kissed him again, this time more animalistic than before.  She stroked him and whispered in his ear, “I want you,” to allay any of his imagined and unfounded fears. 

“Suck my titties, Mr. Rivers,” the exchange of power completely evident even with her use of his surname.  Regina was in control of this ship.  The weight of her breasts captivated him.  He had never in his life felt tits that big AND real.  He suckled and nursed for pleasure and comfort, wanting to bury his face in between them. 

Regina eased herself back on the white down comforter and Doug sucked and followed suit.  He positioned himself between her legs and made himself more comfortable.  His hands found her sweet center and he said, “Oh my god, you are soooo wet.” 

He held his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply her scent.  He licked her fingers and tasted her sticky, sweet, salty, earthy juices.  He was in heaven.  He spread her legs further apart to view all of her.  He clit stuck out and was begging to be sucked.  Her lips parted to reveal a pink center that was glistening with moisture.  Regina spread her pussy lips and finger fucked herself just inches away from his face.  He was mesmerized.  She pulled her fingers out and sucked her juices. 

Her raw sensuality almost drove Doug over the edge.  He put his lips to her core and tasted her sweetness, assured it was the best tasting pussy he’d ever had.  He wanted to live up to the reputation white boys had about being the best at oral sex.  He licked, sucked, tongued, and licked some more.  He kept his eyes open so he could see everything.  Regina grabbed his head and held it to her pussy as she had a series of mini orgasms in his mouth.  He had no desire to stop eating her.  He licked even more, encircling his arms around her thighs to ensure that she could not get away. 

“Oh shit, white boy, eat my pussy,” the sweet melody of her voice a different kind of honey to feed his appetites.  He was ready to explode.  “Come here baby and let me return the favor.” 

Doug’s head was spinning.  He had to make a judgment call then and there.  He was at the peak of his arousal.  A few seconds of those soft, wet lips on him and he was surely going to shoot his load.  He had to prioritize.  Feeling that pussy was first and foremost on his agenda.  This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity.  He paused, and as if reading his mind, Regina whispered, “Don’t worry.  Before the night is over I’ll have you in my mouth, pussy and ass if you are lucky.” 

He groaned in a fog of disbelief and arousal.  He straddled her face and hesitated.  For a brief second, he wondered if it was politically correct to assume a superior position over Regina.  Not only was she an employee but the centuries of disproportionate power whites had over blacks also played on his mind.  He knew deep in his heart that she was every bit his equal but he hesitated.  All reservations quickly disappeared as he felt her full lips envelop him.  “Oh shit, suck my cock, that feels so good.” The magic her lips created erased all doubt.  Her mouth was an erotic vacuum, coaxing his cum out of his balls.  He closed his eyes for the first time during the evening and fucked her mouth like it was a pussy.  He saw lights behind his eyes as he shot spurt after spurt of cum in her mouth. 

He collapsed in silence next to her and lay in silence.  Embarrassment and insecurity crept over him.  Tonight had been an eye-opening experience and quite possibly the best sexual experience of his life.  He wanted more but was unsure how to ask for it.  Unsure of what to say or do he lay there motionless, pretending to drift off to sleep, fully awake and semi erect. 

Regina snuggled next to him and stuck her tongue in his ear as she whispered.  “Come on lover.  I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”  She got up on her hands and knees and presented him with a view of perfection.  Sweet, soft mounds of Ebony flesh presented to him for his pleasure, the promised land lay within his reach.  He knelt behind her and held his erection to her opening; the contrast in color was intoxicating.  Never in his life had he seen anything so sexy.  Never in his life had he felt so alive.  Transformed, it seems by the overnight security guard. 

Copyright 2004 AfroerotiK