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.

Showing posts with label BBC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BBC. Show all posts

Friday, September 16, 2016

LWC or the Little White Cock

I have a theory. Trump and all his supporters are CLEARLY, IRREFUTABLY insane. No question about it, period, the end. Their insanity is accepted as the norm and the media and society as a whole dismisses, ignores, rationalizes and debates their talking points as if they have actual validity, as if they are worthy of consideration as valid. What if . . . their mental instability is a result of them all being deficient anatomically, or more accurately, they are mentally ill because they have anger, frustration, jealousy and envy for anyone who threatens their perceived manhood and power because they measure less than average below the belt. 

Wait, follow me here. Let's suppose that the individuals who are the most virulent racists, the ones who feel the most emasculated by powerful women, the ones who are so desperate to go back to the good old days when niggers knew their place and women stayed at home are the ones who are the most frustrated by their lack of manhood. I think it's very reasonable to assume that because they feel so lacking in the genital department their psyches have compensated with their rampant xenophobia, racism, bigotry, and sexism that has gone unchecked in this country for centuries.

It makes sense if you think about it. Society equates manhood with dick size. The smaller their junk, the more power hungry they are in an effort to compensate for how inadequate they feel as "real men". The more delusional they are, the more limp their equipment is. The individuals who have made policy in this country since its inception are the one who have had the least impressive Popsicle sticks. The women who support Trump are the women who have been left frustrated by their spouses inferior equipment. If they've never had a thorough sexing in their lives, if the most they've ever had is a woefully inadequate 30 second hump, that would make any woman crazy. Certifiably so.

My theory might seem fringe to a sexually repressed society but let's take a look at the men who are conducting the Republican crazy train. Trump, Guliani, David Duke . . . does anyone believe for a fraction of a second that they have more than three or four inches below the belt? It's not that much of a leap to think that the individuals who support Trump are similarly handicapped. They hate Obama because they think he has a big black dick. They hate Hillary because they think she is trying to cut their nuts off. And the rest of sane society is left to integrate their insanity into our lives as the norm.

Just think about it.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Neighborly Hospitality

Unannounced visitors were not very common, especially in the middle of the day, so when the knock came at the door for Lisa Ingles, she was caught a little off guard.  Little did she know that she was about to be introduced to a world of experiences that would shift her reality and alter her life completely.  Little did she know that she was about to become an entirely new woman.

She opened the door to find herself staring, face to face, with a beautiful black woman who looked more like she belonged on a runway in Paris or New York as opposed to a quiet, unassuming street in Alpharetta.  Her face was made up in a way that was flawless, highlighting her chocolate brown complexion that looked as smooth as silk and her hypnotic eyes and full sensual lips.  She was wearing a tight black leather vest that pushed her breasts up and put them on display like a set of pillowy mounds of soft flesh.  Her expensive designer jeans hugged every curve and you can rest assured that she had curves.  She was wearing rather expensive shoes as well; not that there was much of them, it was a pair of dangerously high heels made up of just a few strips of black leather that crossed her toes and wrapped around her ankles and formed a perfect canvas for her coral colored toenails that complimented her beautiful brown skin.  Lisa, forgetting all her manners, simply stood and stared.  Waiting patiently for the usual initial shock to wear off and extending her hand, she said, “Hi neighbor, my name is Syreeta and I’m going to be moving in next door and I wanted to stop by and introduce myself.” 

Regaining her composure, Lisa shook of look her initial surprise and invited her guest in.  She felt rather underdressed in her workout clothes and she tried to hide her insecurity by being gracious.  “Steven did mention that he might be moving but I really don’t have that much interaction with him; I wasn’t even aware that he’d moved.  Welcome to the neighborhood, I’m Lisa.  My husband Brad is at work now but it’s very nice to meet you.  Please do sit down.  Would you like some coffee?” 

Syreeta’s demeanor was graceful and friendly.  She politely declined the offer for coffee and asked for some bottled water instead.  “Actually, Steven is just renting the place to us for a couple of months.  My boyfriend got a job here with CNN and I told him that I’d give him a few months to see if I could adapt to life in the burbs.  I’m hoping it’s remotely reminiscent of Wisteria Lane because I’d hate to think the most excitement that there is to be found out here is a concert at Chastain.”  

Lisa laughed along with her, rather nervously, knowing that there was little excitement north of the perimeter compared to the Desperate Housewives melodrama.  Syreeta was delightful, engaging in fact, and wove enticing tales of being a model in New York and how she and her boyfriend, Dixon, had met when he was Director of Marketing at the Lincoln Center.  As if on cue, there was another knock at the door and it was Dixon, coming to inquire about the whereabouts of his other half.

“I’m sorry, but I really need to steal Syreeta back to help me finish painting.”  Lisa stared again.  Dixon was 6 feet tall and had the same cocoa brown complexion of his lover.  His body showed evidence of many workouts and his t-shirt and sweat pants indicated that he had been working up a sweat getting things ready in the new house. 

Syreeta rolled her eyes and apologized about taking up too much time; looking like she was looking for any excuse to get out of doing work.  “Hey, want to come over for dinner on Saturday?  Bring the hubby and let’s make it a foursome, okay?”  With that, she leaned over and kissed Lisa on the cheek like they were long lost friends.  It was a little more intimate than Lisa was expecting and it gave her a thrill somehow, not really sure why but aware that there was some sort of unspoken exchange of electricity in the room. 

Lisa shut the door and was alive with sensation but she didn’t quite know why or what to do about it.  Her pussy was tingling and her clit was throbbing.  She hadn’t masturbated in years.  In fact, she couldn’t really remember the last time she’d been really horny.  On the rare occasion she felt like she wanted some sexual release she would get in bed with her husband and say, “Honey . . . “ and that was indication that he should get under the covers and go to work.  He’d lift up her conservative cotton nightgown and lick her to orgasm and the entire ordeal would be over without much else being said.  Lisa couldn’t wait for Brad to get home.  Every step she took she was reminded of her swollen pussy lips and the moisture that soaked her panties.  Had it been merely Syreeta’s presence that had aroused such fever?  She thought perhaps that the reason she was so horny must have been Dixon, with his muscular body flexing beneath his t-shirt and invoking fantasies of the forbidden.  Unable to concentrate, Lisa took a shower, aimed the showerhead directly on her clit, and fingered herself to a mind-blowing orgasm in the afternoon. 

All week long, Lisa was filled with new erotic sensations.  She started dressing up a little more during the day, wearing more makeup and more revealing clothing, and she would demand that Brad lick her to orgasm at night.  Closing her eyes, she would get lost in vague fantasies, fantasies of brown skin and heated passion and shadowy images of intense fervor that her body longed to feel.  Brad noticed the change in her conduct and loved every second of it.  Her libido was reawakened and she was more commanding in the bedroom.  Her orgasms seemed more intense; she seemed more determined to use his mouth for her pleasure. 

Brad appreciated the renewed sexual activity.  He would slide out of bed after having finished servicing his wife and sit in front of his computer screen.  His cock wouldn’t stay hard for sex but it sure as hell felt good when he pulled on it and looked at porn.  Mostly, he looked at images of white women being savagely fucked by gangs of black men.  He dreamt of Lisa being used and fucked by thick, long black cocks, his heart would flutter with jealousy, and his cock would drip with arousal.  He would stroke and dream of seeing her well-used cunt, dripping with cum and his mouth would water, fantasizing about the opportunity to tasty the sweet evidence of her infidelity.  He’d never dare mention any of his thoughts to his wife; she would never understand his deep desire to see her being fucked by a black man.  It just wasn’t something southern white women would even contemplate and it wasn’t something white men were supposed to jerk off to so he was content to live in secrecy and denial.

Lisa and Syreeta were spending more time together as the days passed.  By Friday night, by the time Brad came home, Syreeta and Lisa were giggling and whispering like teenagers and Dixon had to come retrieve his girlfriend, yet again, because they were going to be late for a very important dinner reception.  Syreeta winked at Lisa and said, “So we are soooo excited to see you tomorrow night for dinner.  Can’t wait in fact.”  She kissed Lisa goodbye, this time fully on the mouth, and it seemed to linger a little longer than one would expect and Brad felt a pang of jealousy that gave him a raging hardon.  Dixon just rolled his eyes, gave Brad a knowing wink, and ushered his lovely companion off for the evening.  They were barely out the door before Lisa had Brad on his knees licking her to orgasm in the kitchen. 

Saturday was the day of reckoning.  The kids had been packed up for sleepover dates with their friends and Lisa was in rare form.  All day long, it seemed like she couldn’t get enough oral sex and she was even getting more verbal than usual, more dominate in her commands.  “Get on your knees and eat my pussy.  Yeah, suck it.  I bet Dixon doesn’t have a worthless cock.  I bet he can get it up to fuck Syreeta and he doesn’t have to eat her out all the time.  I bet she gets that big hard black cock rammed in her pussy all the time.  I bet he has a gigantic cock” Her dialogue seemed to drive them both over the edge and they were soon both cumming like crazy; Brad wanking away while he drove his tongue deeply inside his lovely wife and Lisa practically suffocation her hubby by riding his face. 

Neither of them had the nerve to discuss the dynamic that was evolving between them.  They seemed to exist very happily with their unspoken new raison d’etre.  As Lisa prepared for their dinner date Brad could barely contain himself.  She put on a brand new outfit, one that she and Syreeta had picked out at the Northlake Mall.  The skirt was dangerously short and showed off her well toned legs.  The top was low cut as well and displayed her tits in a way that most mothers of 2 couldn’t do at 37 years old.  She put on a thong and, at the last minute, bent over in front of Brad and slid it off.  He practically shot a load in his pants then and there.  He couldn’t get over the transformation of his wife and how she’d become so sexual in such a short period of time. 

They knocked on the door at exactly 8 PM and Syreeta greeted them and invited them in.  They had decorated they house such that it didn’t even look like it belonged on such a quiet little enclave, it looked like something out of an interior design magazine.  Brad was expecting something more outlandish, like on MTV Cribs because that’s all he’d ever really known of Black wealth.  He had to check his own biases at the door because Dixon and Syreeta were far from stereotypical, they were two intelligent, articulate, extremely sophisticated people, and they seemed to be wildly in love with one another. 

Brad handed Dixon a bottle of wine and they went off to the dining room to enjoy a sumptuous meal of French onion soup, curry roasted duck, roasted asparagus with garlic, and focaccia bread while listening to some rarely heard tracks from John Coltrane.  The evening was flowing seamlessly and everyone but Brad seemed to have this secret that they were keeping.  The more wine that flowed, the more the unspoken glances were exchanged, and private jokes passed.  Brad laughed nervously as they seemed to be laughing at his expense. 

After dinner, they foursome retired to the living room and shared some cognac.  The alcohol had loosened Lisa’s inhibitions and she sat next to Dixon, ignoring Brad completely, pretending to be engrossed in a conversation about jazz when it was more than obvious she was simply using that as a pretense to press her body next to his.  Syreeta seemed to be running interference for her new friend, trying to distract Brad with conversation about Real Estate and things that would keep his focus off their respective partners.  Syreeta pulled Brad to the backyard with the pretense of looking at property lines and when they returned to the living room, Dixon and Lisa were nowhere to be found.  When Brad inquired where they went, Syreeta implied that it was nothing he should be worried about, that they were probably just getting better acquainted. 

Better acquainted was an understatement.  While Brad and Syreeta were in the living room making casual conversation about fixed mortgages, Lisa was in the bedroom, on her knees, with both hands wrapped around Dixon’s cock, stroking it and coaxing out precum to lick off.  That had been the plan for the better part of the week; Lisa was going to get fucked like she needed it and Dixon was going to serve up the dick like only he knew how.  She and Syreeta planned and plotted over coffee how she was going to become an insatiable slut right under Brad’s nose.  This was Lisa’s moment of reckoning.  Dixon pulled her tits out of her top and squeezed her nipples hard.  Lisa moaned and begged for him to do it harder, shocked at her own desires.  She wrapped her lips around his cock and started sucking it like a wanton whore.  Dixon grabbed her brown hair, pulled it like he was pulling reigns on a philly, and started fucking her mouth hard.  She was choking on that cock but she refused to stop sucking.  She was trying to get him to cum in her mouth.  She’d never let Brad cum in her mouth in their 12 years of marriage but she wanted to take Dixon’s load more than anything.  The harder he fucked her mouth, the more she licked and sucked and swallowed every black inch.  Lisa was up for the challenge and taking it all. 

Her pussy was throbbing and dripping and she was ready for the main course without much foreplay but Dixon had other plans.  He tossed her on the bed and pushed her tits together.  Her tits were a present from her husband for her 35 birthday and he grabbed them and squeezed them, he even slapped them at Lisa’s request.  She was craving rough treatment and she couldn’t get enough.  She was mesmerized his brown skin in contrast to her pale flesh.  Dixon alternated between fucking her tits and fucking her mouth and he was making sure that Lisa was aware of her place as his plaything with his words.  “Look at you, you nasty cunt, sucking my big black cock. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never be satisfied with your husband’s little prick again.  You’ll be begging me to bend you over and ram this big dick in you.  You love this, don’t you?  You know I’m about to fuck you senseless, don’t you?”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Brad was getting more and more uncomfortable as time passed.  He kept looking towards the master bedroom, wondering if he could hear signs of sex or if it was just his imagination.  His cock was rock hard at the thought of his wife, merely feet away, getting filled with the cock of her black lover.  He couldn’t hide his arousal and he was trying to discretely rub himself.  Syreeta could sense his distraction and she toyed with him, whispering in his ear as she taunted him.  “He’s fucking her right now, you know that, don’t you?”  He’s got her bent over and he’s ramming his huge dick in her from behind, stretching her and filling her like you never could. 

Brad couldn’t swallow.  His eyes were glued in the direction of the bedroom and he was in a trance.  He’d never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Oh god, it hurts.  Please, don’t stop.”  Brad choked for air as he could clearly hear the sounds of his wife’s cries coming from the bedroom.  His wife was engaged in some serious fucking and he didn’t know what to do.  Syreeta toyed with him as he strained to hear more.  He was sure he could hear the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall and Dixon groaning and telling his wife how good her tight white pussy was.  He was correct.  Lisa was on her hands and knees, getting banged hard, her tits flapping as a hard black cock hit her in places that hadn’t been touched in years.  Dixon had his thumb in her ass and he was threatening to fuck her there.  Lisa was begging for it loud enough for Brad to hear.  “Oh yes, fuck me hard, use my white pussy, fuck me good and hard.  Make me your white slut, I love your big hard cock.  Use my holes for your pleasure.  I want to feel your cum dripping from my pussy and my asshole.  I want your jism in my belly.  Oh yesss, I want to eat Syreeta’s sweet black pussy while you bang me hard from behind.  I’m a nasty, filthy, dirty slut for your cock.  Oh, shit.  I’m going to cum.  Please, leave your load in me.  Please give me your cum.  I’m cumming, I’m cumming.  Oh fuck I’m cumming.  She was cumming harder than she’d cum in years.  “Yes, Dixon, cum inside meeeeeee.  Please.”

In the living room, Brad was practically crying.  It was his dream come true, his fantasy made reality but he wasn’t there to witness it.  He wanted to ask Syreeta if he could lick her pussy but he wasn’t sure of the proper protocol.  He wanted to take his cock out and jerk it off with his ear pressed to the bedroom door.  He looked a Syreeta and she seemed calm, cool, and collected, like she and Dixon has done this plenty of times before.  He wondered briefly how they could have such an open relationship, one based on such freedom and communication. 

Lisa emerged from the bedroom, dressed, but disheveled.  She looked drained but glowing.  Her footsteps were shaky and she walked to Brad and kissed him squarely on the mouth.  He could taste the evidence of a sex on her lips.  Exhausted, she whispered, “Let’s go home.  Dixon and I made a special dessert just for you.”  Brad thanked Syreeta for the lovely meal and they hurried off next door, to enjoy the fruits of their experience and reap the creamy rewards. 

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK

Tuesday, August 09, 2016

Jungle Fever

Darren was a brotha on a mission.  It was Friday night and the club lights were coming up and it was time to take someone home and this white chick he’d been talking to didn’t even put up the pretense of playing hard to get.  Darren had more than Jungle Fever; he had Sub-Saharan Tropical Rain Forest Malaria and slutty white girls were his penicillin.  The object of his affection smelled of beer, cigarettes, and hair spray.  Her drug-store eyeliner was smudged and all that was left of her lipstick was a barely detectable line of equally cheap, pink lip-liner framing her thin lips.  The rest of her lipstick was adorning the six or seven bottles of beer she’d consumed.  Her name was Jeannie . . .  Janey . . . Jenny, something like that, but her name really didn’t matter to him.  She was so wasted, he could have called her Matilda and she probably wouldn’t have noticed.  She grabbed her purse and air kissed the girlfriends she had gotten a ride with goodbye and trailed behind Darren, stumbling and teetering on her cheap heels, completely comfortable leaving with a total stranger she’d only met an hour ago. 

Darren held her arm, making sure she wouldn’t fall and bust her ass.  When they got outside to his truck, he had to hold her blonde hair back from her face as she blew big chunks in the parking lot.  Better projectile vomit there than in his vehicle.  Behind the tinted windows and feeling better having relieved herself of some of that alcohol, she started chatting away.  “Turn on the radio.  Ohhhh, 50cent, I LOVVVE him.  He’s so gangsta.  You know what I mean?  Keeping it real.  From the streets.  Word.  Me and my girlfriends would love to just hang out with him and his homies, ya know?”  She turned up the radio as loud as it would go and leaned out the window like she was a Crip in South Central.  Never mind the fact that the closest she’d ever been to any hood was getting lost in Hartford once and driving into an area where she felt like she had to lock her doors.  “And his wife Beyonce is so pretty right?  She’s got a real badunkkadunk.  She’s got some junk in the trunk, you know what I’m saying?  Drop it like it’s hot.  Drop it like it’s hot.  Black women have the best asses.  I wish I had a big ole booty like black women.” 

Darren was concentrating on the drive home.  He contemplated telling her that Beyonce was married to Jay-Z, not 50cent, but what was more important to address was the fact that she had struck a nerve with him and he had to set her straight.  “I don’t like those big, jungle butts.  Fuckin’ black chicks wit their Ubangie butts ‘n shit, n’ big lips n’ shit.  Fuck dat.  Gorilla lookin’ bitches . . ."  He was hardly finished detailing what he considered the many repulsive features of Black women but Jenny passed out somewhere in the middle of his diatribe. 

She woke up and continued on with her conversation like she hadn’t missed a beat.  “What do you do?  I go to school at Stamford.  I’m studying to be a whatchamacallit, a anthropologist, they study people, you know what I’m saying?  I really want to be a interior designer or a makeup artist but my parents made me take anthropologism.  It totally sucks.  What do you do?  Are you a drug dealer?  You look like this guy I fucked once who was a drug dealer.  He had some awesome X, dude.  God, his cock was huge.  Black guys are really packing.  I only fuck black guys, you know what I’m saying?  You know what they say, ‘Once you go black you never go back.’ Black guys are the bomb in bed.  Man, I swear if my dad ever found out that I was fucking niggers . . . oops, sorry, I mean niggazz, you now what I’m saying, he would kill me.”  Jenny’s penchant for talking without caring if the other person contributed or not, heightened by her inebriation, didn’t seem to bother Darren one teeny, tiny, little bit.  He wasn’t even particularly disturbed by the fact that her “hood” vernacular came directly from MTV or that she had stereotyped him as a degenerate.  He thought she was hot and that was all he cared about. 

They arrived at Darren’s apartment in no time at all.  It was a fairly decent complex with a pretty diverse group of residents, not too extravagant, certainly not the ghetto.  They pulled into the parking lot in front of his building and Jenny couldn’t wait to get things started.  The second Darren turned off the engine, she dove for his cock.  She didn’t mind the taste of another woman’s pussy on his dick, or at least she didn’t say that she did, because Darren had fucked some random bitch in the bathroom at the club for a hot minute.  It had been just long enough to get his dick wet but not enough to cum, so he was ready for some head and then some hot pussy.  Jenny didn’t disappoint.  She sucked his cock like a porn star, gagging on it and deep throating it, spitting on it and begging to get her face fucked, all while still in the front seat of his car.

It was time for them to get more comfortable so he pushed her away, with some difficulty mind you, she was really intent on giving him head, and zipped up.  True to the nature of most drunken white girls, Jenny felt the need to flash her tits to the world in the cool night air.  Some old white dude had paid good money for her brand new 38DD’s in exchange for the opportunity to eat her pussy any time he called and she was damn proud to show them off whenever the mood hit her.  “Yeah, you like my hot, fucking tits, Derrick? Woo Hoo!”  If she’d been on the beach in Daytona during Spring Break, it might have been appropriate.  At 2:30 in the morning in a residential apartment complex in Connecticut, it was rude and inconsiderate.  And apparently, knowing his name wasn’t a priority to her either.

The lights in the first floor apartment came on with all the commotion and Darren quickly grabbed Jenny by the arm and quickly pulled her towards the stairs to his second-story walk up.  His downstairs neighbor was used to being awakened by Darren and his endless string of trampy white women in the middle of the night. 

“Quiet down,” he said, “that fucking bitch who lives downstairs from me is always giving me dirty looks.  She’s just fucking jealous I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole.” 

“YEAH, FUCKING JEALOUS CUNT BITCH!” Jenny yelled into the night towards the complete stranger’s apartment.  “I’m going to get this big, fucking, black cock and you won’t get any, you ugly whore.” 

Darren’s downstairs neighbor was neither ugly nor was she a whore.  She was a quiet, attractive, young Black woman who was far more tolerant as a neighbor than most people would have been.  She never called the cops or anything but she didn’t bake cookies for him at Christmas either.  Darren hated her with a passion because he just knew that every time she looked at him that she was judging him for dating white women exclusively.  It really didn’t matter that he was completely fabricating her thoughts in his mind.  He especially couldn’t stand the sight of her because she wore her hair in dreadlocks and he thought it was just plain stupid to wear a hairstyle that reminded the whole world that her hair was nappy and ugly.  He kept his own head shaved bald so he didn’t have to answer questions from girls about his own particularly dense hair texture. 

Darren had never, not once in his life, dated a Black woman.  From the time he was in the first grade, he wanted to sit next to the white girls, just like all the women he saw on TV.  When all the little white boys on his little league team were making fun of him, making a game out of calling him the various racial slurs they’d learned from their older brothers and neighborhood friends, he learned then that being white was better than being black.  In his little adolescent mind, he wished he could be white.  He knew he couldn’t but as long as white girls liked him, he felt validation.  He especially hated black girls because they reminded him that he would always be those names the other boys called him.  In high school he was a jock and he played sports year round in order to be with all the cheerleaders.  In his predominately white college, he was the campus stud, having white girls line up in the dorm hallway to swing on his Mandingo cock.   He made it known to the few black girls on campus that even an ugly white girl was WAY better than any black girl.  He didn’t like the fat ones so much, but he’d rather have a slutty looking white girl to bang than a black chick any day of the week. 

Now that he was a productive member of the community, holding down a job as a fireman, he had plenty of Black male friends, all of whom only dated white women coincidentally.  He stayed as far away from Black women as he possibly could.  He thought Black women were ugly, loud, unsupportive, sassy, and stupid.  The KKK could have used him as a spokesperson when it came to his opinion of black women.  He’d never even so much as had a conversation with a Black woman other than his mother and his sister, let alone dated one, so he had no way of knowing what Black women were really like.  Assured that there wasn’t a burglar breaking in or that no one needed assistance, his downstairs neighbor turned off her light just as the pair passed her front door and Darren said in a voice loud enough to make sure she heard, “Black bitch.” 

That inspired Jenny to give her little speech about race, loud enough for all the neighbors to hear.  “What the fuck is her problem?  Doesn’t she know color doesn’t matter?  Geez, Martin Luther King said that thing about . . . you know . . . about how color doesn’t matter. I’m not racist.  I only fuck Black cocks.  Get over it you fucking jungle bunny, slavery was over a long time ago.”  It was pretty much assured that Jenny wouldn’t be getting a job doing diversity or sensitivity training upon graduation. 

Once inside his sparsely furnished apartment, Jenny wanted the party to start.  “You got any meth?  I need something to keep my buzz going.   Fuck, I need a drink really bad.”  She started pulling off her denim mini skirt, g-string, and top, of course, leaving on her heels, and started posing like Paris Hilton at a photo shoot.  “Hey,” she said with a flash of drunken brilliance, “why don’t you call some of your friends over and we can all party, you know what I’m saying, and get really freaky.  I need some fucking black horse cock rammed in me. Gangbang style, you know what I’m saying?  I swear, I’m such a fucking slut, right?” 

Darren handed her a glass of straight vodka and she downed it in one gulp.  He ignored her question about calling some friends because he wanted her all to himself.  He wanted to prove to her that he was all the savage beast she needed.  He was going to blow her back out with all eight, thick, ebony inches of his equipment.  He was certainly larger than average by every calculation and most white guys would KILL to have a cock as big as his, but he felt insecure because he didn’t have a 12 inch dick and he didn’t need the competition. 

His bedroom was just as desolate as the rest of the apartment, with only a mattress on the floor; two pillows and filthy sheets that looked like they had been screwed on a few times too many that were crumpled up in the corner.  Darren pushed her down roughly but that was okay with her.  Jenny wanted to play and play hard so she made it known.  “Come on, fuck this dirty white cunt.  You love this nasty white pussy, don’t you?”  She spread her legs and bared her bald slit.  At 5’3” and a couple of ounces shy of anorexic, she looked like the pre-teen she was trying to emulate with her shaved twat.  With the exception of her massive fake tits, she couldn’t didn’t have enough meat on her to cover her rib cage or hipbones. 

She rammed three fingers in her loose, sloppy twat and started fucking herself.  She shoved those same fingers in her mouth and sucked them, tasting her juices but more importantly, getting them wet so she could shove them in her asshole.  Flipping over on her knees, she rammed her fingers in her ass.  Ray Charles could see that she had fisted her own ass numerous times in the past, or at least someone had fisted her, considering the ease with which she took those three fingers.  She made a show of licking her ass juice off her fingers and ramming them back up her asshole a few times.  “Oh yeah, I want you to fuck my tiny white asshole too, ram your big, black cock up there.” 

Darren didn’t want be on deck anymore, it was time for his turn at bat.  He took off his clothes and climbed on top of her.  They kissed, swapping spit and tongues.  Her thin, non-existent lips, in comparison to his full, sensual lips, were ideal to him.  He liked anything that wasn’t like him.  He loved her pointy, pug nose, her stringy, dyed blonde hair felt luxurious in his tight grasp, her pale skin that was now red with arousal looked erotic next to his own, smooth chocolate skin.  Having a flat ass was WAY better in his mind than having a butt that looked like it belonged on an African savage swinging from the trees.  His dick couldn’t get hard unless he saw the contrast in skin color. 

Fantasies fueled by race ignited his desires.   He found it erotic to think of himself as a slave on the plantation, taking the slave master’s wife.  With that one single act of fucking her, he became the untamed Mandingo buck, getting his chance at the desirable white woman.  He was the mack-daddy pimp, owning the white whore.  Name a racist stereotype and it was sure to get his dick hard.  He was proving to those white boys on the baseball field who were all grown up now that he was just as good as them because he could fuck any white woman he wanted.  And when he finally got one knocked up, he was going to have kids that would never remind him that he was a descendent of cotton picking, illiterate slaves who were the victims of slavery, not sexually aroused by it.  Color mattered to Darren because to him, his identity, his sexuality, his entire reality was tied to the fact that he believed with all his heart that white women were better.  Moreover, he believed that being with a white woman made him better. 

Jenny was getting her own jungle fever needs filled as well.  Fucking black guys was dirtier than fucking white guys.  Fucking black guys was beneath her, so that made it more thrilling.  Most of her girlfriends knew the real deal but there were still a few holdouts that thought it was nasty to let a black guy touch them.  It was her mission to convert them to nasty sluts for Black cock whenever she could so that they could enjoy the sensation of being a dirty, filthy nigger-loving whore.  And as long as she said, “I’m not racist,” after the fact, it didn’t bother her at all that she never saw Black men as real human beings, just studs with oversized genitalia to service her insatiable appetite for extreme and perverse levels of degradation and abuse. 

An intelligent person might want to contemplate what made this privileged, twenty-something white girl, who had never had a responsibility in her life, crave being used like a fucking rag doll by black men while spewing the most vile racist epithets . . . but who has time for such cerebral musings? 

For all of his admiration and love for white women outside the bedroom, when it came time to fucking, he couldn’t degrade them enough.  Jenny wasted no time in getting between his legs and giving him head.  She grabbed his erection and started stroking it, making it leak precum.  She licked the salty treat and told him how good he tasted.  She took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it and Darren could barely control himself.  She went down on it slowly, licking and sucking with painstaking precision.  She was getting every black inch wet with her mouth and tongue and sucking it expertly with her lips.  Jenny was moaning and slobbering all over his dick like a cock-craved whore and fingering her pussy at the same time.  Darren grabbed her semi-golden hair and twisted it in his hand and shoved her mouth down on his dick, making her choke and gag.  He held her head down and she thought she was going to pass out.  That made her pussy leak even more.  He fucked her throat hard and deep, not caring at all about if she was experiencing pain, and she was.  He gave her enough time to gasp for air and he began fucking her mouth harder slapping her face and calling her a stupid cunt. 

Jenny wanted more.  She wanted to taste his cum and she didn't care how Darren treated her.    She was looking him in his eyes and asking him if he liked it.  Darren was out of his mind; it was sensory overload.  She focused on sucking the engorged vein on the underside of his dick and it allowed him to calm down enough to regain normal control of his breathing.  The room was spinning and it felt like it was 100 degrees in there.  She started humming on his dick, sending vibrations up his spine and talking dirty.  She was proving herself to be a filthy nasty slut desperate for cum and abuse from any black man that would fuck her senseless.  

“You like my mouth on your hard cock?  Treat me like a filthy white whore; it makes me feel good when you say nasty things to me.  Treat me like a dirty white slut.  Use me.  Use me with your superior black cock.” 

He grabbed her head one last time and started moving it up and down on his dick, fucking her throat like she was a rag doll.  Jenny gagged but it only seemed to inspire her to be that much nastier.  It seemed she couldn’t get it wicked enough, she was in a zone where she wanted to be debased and used like a cheap prostitute.  She was deep throating him and stroking him and licking his balls.  The raunchier she got, the more she needed verbal stimulation. 

“Come on you fucking white cunt, suck my fat dick.  Show me what a slut you are for that fuck meat in your slutty mouth.  Choke on my hard dick bitch.  Look at you, you fucking filthy cocksucker.  Suck my god damn cum out of my big hairy balls.  Lick that fuck tool real good and get it nice and wet so I can ram it in your wet pussy.  Yeah, I’m going to fuck you senseless.  Is that what you want?  You want me to ram this big hard black cock in you so hard you scream like it’s going to rip you apart?  What sort of nasty whore gets off on sucking my dick like that?  Maybe I will bring all my friends by and let them take turns using your body and they can pay me for the chance to ram their big black dicks in your nasty asshole, pussy and mouth,” he taunted her.  “You'd like that wouldn't you?  Sucking all those hard black cocks after they fuck you in the ass?  You like that you dirty slut?"

Jenny wasn’t satisfied, she wanted more and she wasn’t afraid to go for it.  She was in a sexual fog, a lust inspired by the fulfillment of her nasty dreams and she started screaming for him to use her, not caring if the upstairs, downstairs or next door neighbors heard her.  “I want more.  I want to show you how REALLY nasty white cunts are.”  She got between his legs and lifted them up.  He knew he hadn’t showered for more than 12 hours and his ass was ripe with sweat and musk.  Jenny seemed to not notice or care one little bit.  She seemed to delight in looking at the brown hole and Darren was pushing out, making it open and close for her.  “Oooooh, talk really, really dirty to me, make me feel like a nasty whore.” 

Darren didn’t hesitate for a second.   “Oh yeah, eat my dirty asshole. Stick your tongue in there and lick it out good, Get it nice and clean like a good slut should.  Taste that hole you and lick it good and deep.” 

She didn’t waste a second and started licking and kissing and sucking his brown hole.  There weren’t many things Darren loved more than a tongue in his ass and he was grinding his ass on her face and pulling his cheeks apart so she could get deep.  Jenny looked up at him and stared straight in his eyes as she said, “Mmmm, I love the way your ass tastes.  It makes my slutty white pussy so wet to know that I’m being such a dirty whore for you.”  Then she went back to her feast, sucking Darren’s asshole like a woman possessed.  The filthy nature of her words and actions, he thought, was the way sex was supposed to be: primal and raw, animalistic and dirty.  She was in sexual nirvana.  Darren held his legs wider as he enjoyed the sensation of his sexy white bitch making a feast of his ass. 

Jenny loved every second of it and she wanted more.  This was the treatment she craved, being treated like a depraved and perverted white whore and who better to do that than the sexy black god with a smooth brown body, rippling muscles, a juicy booty and a dick of death?  Darren had to stop for a minute and wonder exactly what sort of limits this white bitch had if any and the idea of how filthy could get almost made him work a load up from his nuts. 

There was no need for pretense because Jenny was a woman that needed to get fucked and fucked hard.  She was desperate to feel every inch of that hard meet rammed in her cunt walls and she needed him to do it hard and fast and rough like only he could.  He grabbed her hair and pulled it like reigns on a philly.  She responded by chanting, “Fuck me, fuck me, NOW!”

Darren took careful aim.  He lined up the fat head of his dick with her slutty hole.  He grabbed her hips and with one fluid, fast motion, he rammed the entire length of his dick deep in her uterus.  She screamed out in pain but that didn’t stop her from begging for more.  Darren began fucking Jenny with his force and she took it all and begged for more.  He worked his thumb up her ass and she started using her muscles to coax out another load of cum.  He started smacking that pale ass and reached around to her huge tits.  He mauled her tits, pinching her nipples and causing her to moan.  He squeezed her inflated chest so fucking hard she was surely going to have bruises the next day. He pulled them and twisted them with his dark fingers and she encouraged him to do it harder.  “Pull my fucking nipples black mother fucker.  Make them hurt.  Slap them. Ohhh, it feels so good.”

Jenny was fucking him back extraordinarily hard, grunting and snorting like a crazed animal.  “I need what every filthy white slut can’t get enough of.  I need you to fuck me in my nasty asshole. Please? Fuck my white ass with your big, black cock.”

He pulled out of her pussy and saw her juices all over his erection.  She had taken his finger with no problem so he spit on her asshole and started to work more fingers in.  “Damn you Darren, ram it in there and make it hurt.  I don’t want you to give a damn about me, use my asshole, rip it apart.  Shoot your cum deep in my ass.  Make me cum from dicking my shithole and then make me lick your dirty cock clean.”

“You fucking bitch, you asked for it.  I don’t want you to complain one little bit that it hurts either.  You better beg for more. I want you screaming and begging me to fuck the shit out of you, for me to never stop, you hear?”

“What are you waiting for?  Slam it up my ass.  Fuck this slutty white bitch in her backdoor.  What’s the matter?  Afraid my tight little ass will make you nut too fast?  Yeah, it takes a real man to handle a hot, sexy hole like this, not a little boy.”  Her teasing had one objective, to ensure that Darren fucked her until he fucked her unconscious. 

The head of Darren’s dick didn’t even look like it could fit in such a small hole.  He held his dick still as he pushed the tip in.  Jenny gasped for air and gripped the sheets tightly, sweat was forming on her body and she was in agony and ecstasy.  The sensation of Jenny’s tight ass ring on the shaft of his member was so intense, he was sweating trying to work all 8 inches in and he didn’t understand how she could even take it all so easily.  Jenny took control and started fucking him back.  “Fuck my naughty asshole, make me a bad girl.  Make me crave getting used by big black cock in my asshole.  Make sure I never want white cocks again.” 

Darren grabbed her hips and started pounding.  Jenny lowered her head and stuck her ass up in the air so the last few inches could get the right angle and sink deep in her ass.  Darren could smell the earthy, strong aroma of ass fucking and it was intoxicating.   Jenny was moaning loader, begging for it harder.  Ass fucking was supposed to be dirty and primal and filthy in every way and Jenny and Darren were two untamed wild animals that were lost in debauchery and pleasure.  Jenny had craved the sensation of losing herself to a man completely and she started to cum.  It was a mental orgasm, a freedom from society and rules and inhibitions. 

“Oh shit, I’m going to cum.  Fuck the shit out of me. Shoot your cum deep in me.  Empty your nuts in my slutty white asshole.  Make me shit out your baby juice all night long.”

Darren grabbed her hips and started ramming himself deeper and harder, practically ramming Jenny’s head in the wall.  “OHHHH FUCK!  Take it whore, take my load.”  He pulled out and shot his load in her mouth and Jenny sucked every drop of his sticky, sweet cum.  He pushed her down on the bed and wiped his dick off on the sheets in the corner. 

When all was said and done, it was just another typical Friday night for Darren.  He would drop her off in the morning and they would exchange numbers like they were really going to keep in touch with each other.  Next week, there would be another slutty white woman in his bed, whose name he might or might not remember, begging him to use her, fulfilling her dark-continent fantasies. 

Copyright AfroerotiK 2008