AfroerotiK

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

Showing posts with label Black erotica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black erotica. Show all posts

Friday, July 08, 2016

Defining AfroerotiK



Apparently, some people are under the impression that AfroerotiK is a porn blog and thus should be limited to “freaky stuff” and not social commentary or discussion of socio-political issues.  Let me explain a few things.  First and foremost, AfroerotiK is a brand, not a blog.  It is a complex, sophisticated, unapologetic resource/outlet where people of African descent can come for validation of our unique identity and culture, for refuge from the daily beat down of racism that we must endure, a place to come for education, enlightenment, and most importantly, for sexual arousal.   It is about our role in a racist society that demeans us, degrades us, and murders with impunity us without even the tiniest consideration for our humanity.  AfroerotiK’s intent is to explore all facets of Black culture, not just our sexuality, with the hopes that understanding our history, our culture, how we are perceived in the world, and how all of these things work towards how we perceive ourselves has much larger implication of how we function in our intimate relationships.  Only addressing sexuality without all the contributing factors that have led to the formation of our collective consciousness and identities would be an exercise in futility. 

AfroerotiK produces erotica, not pornography.  Just because people don’t know the difference between porn and erotica does not make them the same.  Moreover, it does not make AfroerotiK pornographic in any way, shape or form.  Erotica is any artistic work that deals with a sexually arousing subject matter.  The key word is artistic. I get that many people don’t understand the concept of what artistic means because creativity and art died a painful, slow, and tragic death many years ago. Erotica does not mean selfies taken with your cell phone.  That does not mean a picture taken of a woman’s labia, buttocks, breasts, anus, clitoris, and/or cervix in disgustingly close up range.  It does not mean a photographer merely taking pictures of two people having sex.  Erotica does not mean pictures of very attractive women in sexually suggestive poses.  (That’s objectification but that’s another lesson for another day).  Erotica is art that incorporates the construction of images that will leave you feeling the connection between the participants. AfroerotiK images are not about just looking at naked people engaged in a sex act but it’s a beacon of eroticism and sensuality that is evolved from porn, it’s exactly they want I want to feel in the arms of my lover. 

In the past decade and a half, Black erotic stories have become mainstream reading, on everyone’s bookshelf and nightstand.  Unfortunately, it’s termed literature but it’s nothing even close.  Contrary to popular belief, erotica is NOT a barely-literate short story with the words dick, fuck, suck, and pussy in it written at a fourth grade level about a pathetically stereotypical and urban storyline.  That’s not art, that’s commercially produced crap whose sole purpose is to keep the Black masses anesthetized and complacent with stupidity.  We are so desperate to see ourselves depicted in our own media that we’ve lowered the standards of even basic literacy.  We are reading tales of baby mams and jail house visits and adultery and getting aroused because they use scintillating words, never understanding that those unhealthy messages are being imprinted on our subconscious minds with our arousal.  “They” want us to read stories that make sure us glorify rappers and basketball players and drug dealers because they want to keep us oppressed and seeking unattainable and unhealthy goals.  Those stories are pornography in written form, no different than the billions of videos available online to that show us in the worst possible light.   Just as we are more than the sum of our bodies parts we are more than the same tired and ghetto story. 
                                                                                      
AfroerotiK’s primary product, if you will, is erotic stories. Many people don’t know that. There are over 300 erotic stories, “poetic” pieces, scripts, and erotic shorts in the AfroerotiK library.  With very few exceptions, and there are some that do not, they provide a lesson, a model of healthy behavior, they paint a picture of sensuality and passion and love (yeah, that’s a bad word these days) for Black folks to see, absorb, learn, discuss, and enjoy.  They are pieces of literature.  They are grammatically correct, they utilize vocabulary that is above a fourth grade level, and they show all facets of Black life, not just the urban/ghetto clich├ęs.  Because they use correct English does not mean that they are less authentically Black however.  They tell complex stories of the various tapestries of Black life without ever ascribing to a notion that says that our lives and our identities have less value if we aren’t chasing the capitalist dreams of our oppressor.  They are stories of unapologetic blackness, meaning there is far more than just a simple plot with no real substance that leads to vanilla sex, they are celebrations of our struggles and our triumphs as people of color in a world not created for us. 

There are, however, some AfroerotiK shorts that were written expressly to tease and tempt people of other races to explore my work further.  At face value, they might seem like just crass and pornographic bits of a story but they were crafted specifically to appeal to the triggers of those who lust after black sexuality in private but who have never taken the opportunity to understand that we are more than a race of sexual savages and to be exposed to facet of our lives that they would not see in porn or reality shows.  There is a method to my madness.  Just as a fisherman uses bait to hook the big fish, I lure people of other ethnicities to my work by enticing them with the keywords that arouse them and then I hit them with unique stories, often times that don’t even include them, and I keep them in an aroused state so that they might see our humanity, that their brains might be reprogrammed to view us as more than objects.  It’s taking what the powers that be do and flipping the script and using the technique to educate those who would only see us as a fetish.  Pretty ingenious, right? 

I am very proud of the fact that before I started AfroerotiK in 2004, there were NO Black erotic images on the net and now Black erotica is a photographic genre.  It’s a small one, but it exists.  There did exist several collections of artistic nudes before AfroerotiK, a different genre altogether that is comprised of models in extreme and contrived poses that highlight their nude bodies but not really a representation of a sexual act.  And, of course, there was porn, with nothing but oiled booties of Black women and models straight from the hood looking to get paid for having sex.  Today, artists and photographers have stepped up to the plate and started creating breathtaking images of Black couples engaged in stimulating scenarios. 

Look for emotion in every AfroerotiK image you see.  Look for connection, intimacy, and passion.  AfroerotiK set the bar for Black erotica and it is high.  All AfroerotiK images are of couples.  It was precisely because there were no Black erotic images that I had to start creating my own.  The goal of every AfroerotiK image is for the viewer to feel as if they opened the door and caught two people in the middle of intense love-making.  Models were selected and used to represent all facets of Black America, not just the ones with the least melanin and the most European standards of beauty.  Each shot was carefully thought out in terms of composition, lighting, angle, framing, background and each shot is artistic, not just clicking away trying to catch a good shot.  While editing is done on the images, it’s not to erase imperfections, because real women with stretch marks and cellulite are deserving of pleasure as much as the size 8 surgically-enhanced and sculpted black Barbies are.  Black men with average sized genitalia should be able to see themselves represented as well and I made sure to choose male models based on their cooperativeness, not penis size.  AfroerotiK is for everyone.   Young, old, big, small, light, dark, everybody gets a shot at seeing themselves as sensual. 

AfroerotiK images depict every sexual orientation.  It has from day one, it will continue to do so unapologetically until the day it is no longer in existence.  Every single person of African descent deserves to see themselves in a healthy, erotic light.  The LGBT community is as deserving of seeing themselves in beautiful images as heterosexuals are.  More so in fact because so many degrading and uninformed opinions exist about any form of sexuality that isn’t normative.  (Shout out to the trans community.  I haven’t gotten the opportunity to shoot any images of you yet but they are coming, I promise.  It’s a priority.)  That offends some people.  I’m perfectly fine with that.  I’m not going to cater or pander to those who are too immature to comprehend that sexuality is complex and flexible and not one narrow, oppressive definition that is based on patriarchy, misogyny, and sexism.  The gay community deserves to have a voice in our liberation and they deserve to be showcased as sensual, beautiful, and erotic, not ghetto thugs, fetishes, or objects of dysfunctional down low lust. 

AfroerotiK is the very definition of old-school feminist.  Old-school feminism is vastly different than this new wave of feminism that is about conforming to and complying with sexist definitions of what makes a woman attractive and calling it empowering.  You will not see women dressed up in constricting, uncomfortable lingerie and outrageously high heels in order to appeal to men’s definition of attractiveness.  You will not see women overly-made up either.  Every woman wants to feel attractive and we use the tools available to us to do that.  That includes makeup.  But we cannot allow ourselves to be defined by perfection or standards that are impossible if not impractical to achieve.  Your hair doesn’t have to be done every minute of every day in order for you to feel sexy and desirable.  Your fingernails and toenails don’t have to have matching polish in order for you to have value as a woman.  And you don’t have to hide, pretend, deny, or regret your choices in the bedroom or your beautiful imperfections. 

TRUE empowerment does not mean that you jump in and out of bed with anyone, not respecting that there are very real and often times dire consequences to having multiple partners.  Empowerment means you make informed, intelligent, conscious choices in your partners that are not based on manipulation, getting something in exchange for sex, cheating, lying, or having sex with someone without even knowing anything other than their Instagram name.  AfroerotiK feminism is not just for women.  AfroerotiK wants to insure that Black men are evolving, seeing women as complex human being, not just holes to fuck.  AfroerotiK is providing a framework where brothas evolve emotionally and sexually to honor relationships, not just sex.  Men can be feminists; because feminist doesn’t mean feminine.  Black men need to see women as complements, not adversaries. 

Women have been led to believe that ANYTHING a woman does is empowering, even if and especially if it’s degrading to herself.  In AfroerotiK artforms, you will never see a Black woman being called a bitch, a ho, a slut, or any other degrading name.  You will never see a Black woman depicted being slapped, choked, spit on, or otherwise used by men for their sole pleasure.  Yes, I understand completely that many sistas enjoy being called degrading names, that they experience pain as pleasure, and they have no issue with being spit on or used by men, multiple men in fact.  I also get that there is a growing movement for Black women to “own” their abuse by choosing to be sexually submissive to men as a way of controlling the fact that we have been raped, molested, and beaten by the men in our lives at every stage in our development.  Luckily for them, there are bajillions of outlets for them to find arousal on the net.  AfroerotiK is not one of those places however. 

OK, you say, but you have read plenty of AfroerotiK stories in which white people were called degrading names, where they were beaten and slapped and choked.  Very true.  The difference being, white people have 10 billion other outlets where they can find images of themselves as being virtuous, being desired, being depicted as the most attractive people on the planet.  Black people don’t.  We only have AfroerotiK where I work diligently to create images of us that make us the heroes, that make us the morally superior and advanced, like they’ve seen themselves depicted for 1000s of years.  AfroerotiK is not now, has never been, will never be for white people to see themselves in a healthy, erotic light.  The purpose of AfroerotiK’s interracial stories is for white people to address race and racism in ways that they’ve never done before.  It’s to show them that we are not things for them to use to get their jungle fever fix.  Every interracial story I write exposes white people to our complexity and our humanity.  They may be lured to my stories because of their interracial fetish but they are going to leave having digested much more than that. 

AfroerotiK was created for Black women, like me, who want to be valued, treasured, seduced, romanced, and loved.  AfroerotiK is for women who don’t want to be objects but rather seen as and treated like real human beings with multifaceted needs and desires.  AfroerotiK is certainly not softcore however.  It is for women who want commitment, who want equal partners who are willing to communicate and build based on a desire to see their relationships flourish and grow and evolve.  Basically, I started AfroerotiK because there was nothing that spoke to me as an African-centered, highly-educated, multi-dimensional woman.  I wanted to see nappy women being sexual, I NEEDED to see older women taking control of their sexuality and not being led by shame or guilt that we grew up on.  I wanted to see women who weren’t conforming to European standards of beauty and who weren’t attracted to the pathetic archetype of Black men that is ever-present that is little more than a dog standing upright.  AfroerotiK explores every consensual fantasy possible, some taboo, some extreme, all intense and all with the express purpose of depicting our collective enlightenment through our sensuality.  We have embraced dysfunction, we have internalized our own oppression.  We rationalize that our unhealthy behaviors are inherent to us, not borne of a system of racism.  Look for the lesson in every story; look for black history, examination of our roles in larger society, look for the evolution of the characters from flawed but healthy to slightly less flawed and infinitely sexy. 

Sexuality is not bad, dirty, shameful or wrong.  Not every expression of our sexuality is healthy however.  That message, unfortunately, has been lost amidst the din and the noise of validating patriarchy, under this new guise of feminism masquerading as empowerment.  Rather than women making smarter, more informed choices about their sexuality, their partners and practices, and their behaviors, they have been programmed to believe that equality is to be found replicating men’s unhealthy, dysfunctional, detrimental sexual patterns.  Logic and reason are things of the past.  They have been replaced with arrogance and egotism at the mere mention that some of women’s behaviors are simply not wise.  Yes, women have a right to walk naked down the street if they want.  You also have a right to leave your car running with the doors unlocked too but that’s just not a smart choice.  We have failed to teach young women that they can make intelligent, informed choices, and while they might not be as fun as say, going to a college party and getting drunk off your ass and asking seven fraternity brothas to get you home safely because you lost your shirt in the wet t-shirt contest, they take into consideration that expecting a lion not to eat a baby gazelle left alone is not the smartest logic either.  Yessss, I get it.  If you don’t wear shorts that expose 3/4ths of your ass cheeks, you are going to spontaneously combust into flames because any time the temperature is over 60 degrees wearing anything more than that is oppressive.  I   understand.  What I’d like young women to understand is that showing off every bump and curve doesn’t make you sexier, it merely advertises that you are insecure with the person on the inside so you have no choice but to highlight the packaging with the false hopes that some man will pick you above all the other women who have squeezed into impossibly small outfits. 

AfroerotiK women know that being sexy emanates from the inside and that it one’s attitude, that one’s integrity, one’s character and intellect is what makes them inherently attractive, not one’s hair, or the cost of one’s purse, and not the contest to see who can wear the least, show off the most, and who can pout their lips and gyrate like a porn star.  So while you are obsessing over your eyebrows being on fleek (which is not a real word and it’s indicative of a community obsessed with embracing ghetto mindsets as the norm) and your dress being short enough to leave bodily fluids on your chair when you sit down, AfroerotiK women are confident in the fact that they don’t have to be attractive to every single man under the sun in order to have value and worth in this world.  AfroerotiK women are comfortable with the fact that they can dress in appealing clothing but that it doesn’t have to conform to the teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy, teensie, weensie definition of what men think is hot in order for them to feel attractive.  That is not empowering.  That is not feminism.  That is conforming to patriarchy!  AfroerotiK women don’t feel a need to be sexy to all of society, just their partner with whom they have mutual love and respect.  The key word being mutual, with love being the cherry on top the sundae. 

AfroerotiK women understand that using men is unhealthy.  You cannot be upset that men are using you, treating you like an object and then turn around and use them and think that’s empowering.  It’s wrong regardless of gender. I know, that’s crazy, right?  Lying, manipulation, and cheating are wrong regardless of whether the person has a penis or a vagina!  Who knew?  Oh, emotionally mature people do.  AfroerotiK people do. 

Getting money for your sexuality is not empowering.  It is participating in the objectification of women. It’s reinforcing and validating to men that women are things to be bought and sold by men to be used and traded for a better model at their immature whim.  You devalue ALL women when you decide that your body has a price tag.   Oh dear God, I get that some woman’s studies professor told you that sex work was empowering and now, that is the rule, anyone who says anything different is trying to oppress you and slut shame you and they are evil and sexist.  Yes, yes, I get it.  I’ve been told to have two seats and shut the fuck up and I’ve been called everything but a child of God for suggesting that there is a better way than selling your body to some dude who does not give a half a fat fuck about you as a person and who only sees you as a hole to pump his sperm. 

If the man with whom you share your body is not going to fix you chicken soup when you are sick, if he’s not going to calm your fears with words of encouragement when you are scared, if he’s not going to love and support you and your growth as a human being for the UNIQUE individual you are, not just your pussy or ass or weave or your Loubutins, but for who you are and what you bring to the table, sweetness, that’s not empowering.  Empowerment comes from being selective with your partners and holding them to high standards, exacting standards that you demand from a partner, not handing out coochie to any Tom, Dick, or Harry every time you feel a tingle between your legs or when you need your car note paid.  Demand honesty.  Demand fidelity.  Demand respect and all the things you need in a relationship from whomever gets your juicy delight.  That is empowering!  Annnnnnnnnnnd queue the respectability politics police to scream that women can have casual sex all they want with anyone they want just to fill their sexual needs and that sex doesn’t have to be about antiquated love and romance.  Right, you sure can.  But there are consequences to replicating men’s unhealthy behaviors and they ain’t pretty, trust me on that. 

Take it from someone older and wiser and with many more years of experience and scar tissue on my heart. Learn from my mistakes. Your refusal to understand that communication, intimacy, respect, and cooperation should be at the foundation of your choices in partners, not who has the most money, or who is the most attractive, or who has the biggest dick, or even who is available to sex you up when you are in the mood is going to bite you in the ass when you get older.  I wouldn’t even be telling you this if I didn’t love young Black women and want the best for you all.  I don’t want you to end up alone, with your expensive things you’ve purchased from selling your body and no one to share them with because you haven’t been taught how to form a relationship, all you’ve been taught to do is lie, cheat, manipulate, and barter your body to the highest seller.  You’ve never been taught the skills necessary to form a healthy relationship so your plan, to just sell it when you’re young and stop when you’re 30 or so and settle down and get married, that ain’t going to work.  Why?  Because men aren’t going to want a woman to settle down with when you’ve been reinforcing and participating in them buying women like convenience store fuck holes.  I get that 10,000 YouTube videos say differently.  I get that the overwhelming belief is that anything a woman does with her body is empowering.  You don’t have to believe me, agree with me, or change your mind; you don’t have to waste your time or mine telling me how ignorant I am.  I’m working to provide a model of healthy relationships for people of African descent, giving our pathologies, our issues, and our challenges in a racist society.  Go on believing that degrading yourself is empowering if you so choose.  Fine with me. 

AfroerotiK is not just for women however.  I have been passionate and relentless in holding a mirror up to Black men’s collective unhealthy behaviors and trying to provide them a model that is healthier than the one-dimensional hyper-masculine caricature that they have become.  I’m educating men to see women as complete beings, not objects.  I’m educating men to be more honest with themselves and their partners so they don’t falsely believe that some women are for marrying and some are for sexing. I work hard trying to educate men and women, to liberate them from absurd ideas about sexuality that should have been left behind in the 1800s.  I’m ever amazed at how many people believe such silly concepts about sex when information is abundant.  It’s slow, arduous, tedious work because women are intent on countering every positive thing I teach men with their negative behaviors that reinforce to men that all men need to bring to the table is a wallet and a dick.  But with every AfroerotiK story, I expose men to a model of what it is to be an empowered man, making mature, intelligent, informed decisions about birth control, about the emotional bond that IS formed with the connection of two bodies, and about their confidence in their manhood has nothing to do with how they receive pleasure. 

AfroerotiK is not just stories or photography.  Well, AfroerotiK used to be a website, owned and solely operated by me.  I’ve had to shut down two different versions of the website: the first because it was hacked and destroyed by someone who didn’t want me spreading my messages of erotic enlightenment to the Black masses.  I’ve had more AfroerotiK social platforms shut down than I can count.  I think there have been three Facebook groups shut down alone.  But I keep coming back and I won’t stop until I accomplish my mission of providing a framework for people of African descent to use in helping them construct healthier relationships.  The ability of a race to survive depends upon our intimate relationships: without ourselves, with our partners, with our families and communities, and with the people who would prefer to see our demise.  The second version of the AfroerotiK website had to be shut down because it was costing me more than I was making.  Never fear, AfroerotiK is not going anywhere.  It’s going to continue to grow and evolve.  I fully intend for my future book, In Loving Color, to have a great impact and scope than 50 Shades of (poorly written) Gray.  AfroerotiK will continue to be founded on breathtaking images and compelling stories and it will also shares podcasts, events, music, and . . . VIDEO.  That’s right.  I have plans for an extensive video venture that showcases our beauty and complexity.   All the steps I’ve made on my journey, all the perfectly-guided missteps, still have me headed to creating a shift in consciousness for me people that allows us to be more holistic, self-aware, and enlightened.  Can’t nobody hold me down. 

Copyright 2016 AfroerotiK  All rights reserved 



Tuesday, July 05, 2016

Making Love to my Man





Rodney was waiting for me in the bedroom while I got ready.  The steam in the bathroom from my relaxing bath had fogged up the mirror, but I really didn’t need it to see, I know my body in such intimate detail that I could get dressed with my eyes closed, blindfolded and in the dark.  Luckily, I had candlelight to help me as I unwrapped my terrycloth robe and began applying my Amaretto Truffle Coconut Body Oil from head to toe.  I loved the feel of the slippery substance between my fingers as I warmed it between my palms.  I started at my toes and didn’t miss a spot all the way up my legs.  I massaged the muscles in my calves and my thighs, feeling my soft brown skin slip and slide under my touch.  I poured more of the sweet smelling oil into my palms and rubbed it gently into the baby soft hair on my mound.  I couldn’t resist the temptation and I slid my fingers in between my lips and rubbed my clit gently for a few seconds, starting my sweet juices flowing.  As I worked my way upward, I cupped my breasts and softly pulled my nipples with my fingers.  By the time I finished my ritual-like anointment, I had massaged oil all the way down my shoulders, arms, back, and full round ass.  Rodney likes to call it my ghetto booty, I much prefer to refer to it as my Afrocentric behind, giving way to a less offensive description of my very bootylicious derriere.  When it was all said and done, I was glistening and smelling like a cookie fresh from the oven in grandma’s kitchen. 

 I put my ankh toe ring on and a cowry shell anklet around my ankle.  My belly chain lay softly on my hips, right above my black panther tattoo.  I chose a small charm of the sun for my navel ring and I pulled my dreadlocks up on my head and secured them in a style that would be sure to keep my shoulder length tresses out of the way later on.  I applied only the tiniest amount of lip-gloss to my full, sensual lips and I admired my adornments and prepared myself for the most dramatic accessory of all.  I slid the leather straps of the harness up my legs, over my thighs, and secured the fasteners tightly.  I felt my heart skip a beat and pulse race as I prepared myself for the pleasure that was about to come. 

The soft light from the television screen flickered and illuminated the bedroom.  Waiting on the black satin sheets, stroking his dick watching a video we had made of ourselves a few months back was my soul mate.  When he looked up and saw me, he started stroking his erection that much harder and staring me deeply in my eyes, connecting with me as only lovers can do that know each other beyond the realm of words.  His dick was completely hard and looked so inviting.  Rodney turned me on so much it was all I could do to keep myself from straddling him and lowering my hot, tight, pussy down on every steely inch of his manhood.  But tonight was a night for a different sort of pleasure. 

I moved to the edge of the bed and he stood to kiss me.  I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck.  His erection pressed against my stomach and I felt the moisture that had collected at the tip against my skin.  He grabbed my ass with his strong hands and kneaded the soft flesh.  I melted with his manipulation and met his thrusts with my own.  This time, his dick was met with my own formidable counterpart.  The hard, silicone, black dildo that I wore sensually rubbed against his own flesh and blood ebony column of hardness.  Our mouths found each other and we shared our lips and tongues in a passionate kiss. 

In an effort to get him prepared, I had him lay on the bed and I straddled his back to give him a much-needed deep tissue massage to help him relax from the stresses of a hectic workweek.  I poured a heated pool of his favorite ginger/fig/honey body oil on the small of his back and began working out the stiffness and creating more stiffness in other parts of his body.  I caressed and soothed away frustrations caused by contracts that didn’t get signed, vendors that didn’t come through with promises they made and clients that were making irrational demands.  His head lay serenely on his folded arms and I could hear him breathing peacefully as I worked my way lower down his body, to the backs of his thighs.  He spread his legs slightly and I rolled his heavy balls gently in my slippery fingers.  He arched his back at the stimulation and let out a low moan that let me know he was ready for more.  I had other plans however and I was going to prolong the pleasure for as long as I possibly could.  I massaged oil into the backs of his thighs and down his legs and took an extra long time rubbing the acupressure points on his feet.  Quiet as kept, he’s ticklish and every time I would hit the right spot, he would giggle like a little boy.  It’s so sweet when he does that I can’t help but get a little thrill from seeing such a strong man, in body, mind and spirit, squirming and laughing like that.  



I turned him over and had him lay on his back.  It was my turn to have my breath taken away.  His beauty is beyond words, its something that emanates from him, in the way that he carries himself.  His body is a work of art.  His smooth muscles rippled beneath his brown skin, and his stomach was a prototype for a washboard.  His dick stood proudly, inviting me to it.  I accepted the gracious invitation and made my RSVP with a sensual kiss. 

I lowered my mouth to the head and gently placed my lips to it.  I looked up at him as I bestowed the first of many kisses to my lover’s hard dick.  I took my tongue and began softly lapping at his precum.  “Mmmm, you taste so good.”  He tried to grab his dick and start stroking it again but I took his hands and held them firmly to the bed as I made my slow and sensual descent down his dick with my mouth.  I could hear him gasp for air and he gripped the sheets, letting me know that I could use my hands for other things.  I grabbed the base of his dick and began stroking it and licking it at the same time and he was thrusting his hips, trying to fuck my mouth.  My spit was running down his balls and I was rolling them between my fingers again. 

“Oh shit, that feels so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he kept chanting.  I knew the buttons to push and I worked his dick with my mouth.  I stared deep in his eyes and I started sucking my finger.  He knew the routine and spread his legs.  I took my wet finger and lightly caressed the tender skin around his asshole.  I barely touched it but he almost jumped out of his skin.  My objective was not to penetrate him, just tease him lightly so I circled my finger around the hole and kept licking and sucking his gorgeous dick.  He grabbed the pillow to cover his head and I put a stop to that immediately.  I wanted to experience all his pleasure and that included him moaning and groaning.  The beauty of our relationship was the fact that we could give and take pleasure so freely and I wanted to soak up every bit of his arousal. 

Rodney was never one to ask for more, especially when we were engaged in strapon games, he was always content to let me drive that ship, control the pace.  I told him, however, that part of the turn on for me was knowing how much he loved me inside him, of hearing him beg me to fuck him.  “Say it baby, I know you want it, say it for me.” 

He looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin, he was squirming and thrashing around on the bed, moaning and groaning.  I was relentless in my assault, deep throating him, licking him, sucking him, and rubbing his spot.  He was holding on to some macho bullshit rules that told him that he couldn’t ask for it but I would not let him get off that easily.  I was determined to hear him say it.  I can’t tell you how incredibly wet I get, knowing he wants me inside him, knowing I’m giving him pleasure like that. 

He rolled over on his stomach.  It was time to get a little more adventurous.  We were prepared for the night’s adventures so I reached over to the nightstand and took the Vanilla Cream Oil of Love and poured just a tiny amount right on his hole.  It gets hot when you blow on it so a gently breathed hot air on his hole.  Rodney was in heaven and kept telling me it felt good.  I took the tip of my tongue and started gently lapping at his hole, enjoying the way his body reacted to my tongue fuck.  It was more than obvious that he was enjoying it as much as I was.  I made a mental note that he was going to have to lick and finger my ass later on in the evening because I loved it more than he did.  He was at his limit for foreplay and finally said, “Boo, you know it feels good, come on,” but that wasn’t enough for me.  We’d been through too much together for me to let him get away with that.  I began rubbing the cheeks of his ass, making the full mounds slippery with the oil.  I took the bottle of lubricant and drizzled it all over my strapon, and began stroking it as if it were my own flesh and blood extension.  I loved the look of the beautiful brown penis that was protruding from my body.  We had chosen it specifically because it so closely resembled Rodney’s tool.  Fully erect, he is as thick as a can of one of those high caffeine energy drinks, you know the ones, and he is nearly twice as long.  I loved the life-like feel of the veins and exacting details down to the head with its pisshole. 

With my fingers slippery with lube, I began fingering him a little more.  I took the tip of my finger and put it in him and he started humping the bed like crazy.  I was working it in deeper and he was reaching back, pulling his ass cheeks apart, trying to get me to do it harder.  This wasn’t our first time, so he was able to accommodate my fingers and my strapon with relative ease.  “Rodney!  Tell me you want me to fuck you now.  Say it.  Beg for my dick in your ass.”

That was enough to send him over the edge.  What did Vanessa Williams say?  “Welcome to the comfort zone, when you need to be loved like you need to be loved.”  Rodney was in that zone.  He got up on his knees, put his face down and looked back with lust in his eyes and said, “Fuck me!” 

I swear I almost came right then and there. 

I took the slippery head of the dildo and placed it at the entrance to his hole.  I took my hands and rubbed them all over his back and thighs and he was practically pushing back trying to get me to fuck him. I held the dildo steady and worked the head in.  The heat in the room seemed like it was at full blast but it was actually just our sexual heat.  I looked down, at the point where I was penetrating him and I felt like I was literally inside him.  I felt like I could feel that dildo like it was my own flesh and blood.  I took a deep breath and I started pushing it in further.  Rodney was loving it and begging for more and who was I to deny him?  I was stroking and pounding and fucking him deeper.  Every time I hit his spot, he would moan out and inspire me to give him more.  I reached around and grabbed his dick and started stroking him at the same pace I was fucking him.  I swear he was literally screaming into the pillow.  He was fucking me back hard and trying to get more and more of that strapon inside him.  I started spanking that ass, letting him know I was in control, and he was loving every second of it.  My nipples were aching I was so aroused.  My pussy was leaking juices that were running down my thighs.  My clit was being stimulated every time I would bury every single inch deep in his sexy ass.  There was no way to fight it, he was going to cum and cum hard and I wasn’t going to be far behind him. 

I grabbed his hips and worked my strapon with skill.  “Come baby, give me that cum.  Prove to me that you love me fucking you hard and deep.”  He grabbed his dick and started stroking it, gripping it tightly and working that hot white cum up from his tight nuts.  “mmmmmmm, I’m going to cum, oh fuck, I’m cumming” 

I released the straps that held the harness in place and pulled the covers up over us.  We snuggled together, exhausted from the experience before we both drifted off to sleep.  Before the weekend was over, we would fuck in every way imaginable and I would cum so many times I actually passed out from pleasure.  It’s indescribable how much satisfaction I get from making love to my man . . . in every way imaginable. 

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK