One of the many benefits of
heading up a company that creates erotica is that I can turn any and every
business trip into a pleasure trip with a little bit of creative license. If I’m scouting locations to shoot new
videos, I absolutely must stay in the best hotels with a spa because I might be
able to use it as the site of my next couple’s retreat. If I’m doing a model search for new models, for
fresh faces, what better place to do that than some sleepy little resort town
in The Seychelles with pristine beaches, seafood that will make you question
what the hell you’ve been eating your entire life, and gorgeous, toned Black
bodies that have never even seen the inside of a gym or a mall. And if Snarky Puppy is playing at the Jazz
Festival in Amsterdam, well, it was just a coincidence that I had a book
signing scheduled there that same weekend.
Talk about lucky!
Snarky Puppy was playing at the
jazz festival and my agent was able to make arrangements for me to have a book
signing there but it lasted a whole of two hours. The additional six days and twenty-two hours
that my photographer and I stayed there were purely to sample the many delights
that The Netherlands’ fair city had to offer.
If Uncle Sam asks, I was there looking for venues for the European leg
of my live sex show. That’s my story and
I’m sticking to it.
Have you ever met a brotha who is
fine but doesn’t know it? No, you
probably haven’t. They are an entity so
rare they are listed on the extinction list of mammals. Most brothas, no matter how trifuliing they
are, no matter how pathetic, think they are God’s gift. Jason, my closest friend and photographer, was
one of those rare, beautiful creatures found in nature who was part geek, part
intellectual, part artist and he didn’t fit in with typical brothas so he just
carved out a niche where he ended up a loner.
Look up fashion sense in the dictionary and there is a 3-D pop-up of him
with a midi audio file that plays “I’m Too Sexy.” With a smile that lights up any room, he was
6’3” of unadulterated café-au-lait-colored beauty.
We were usually joined at the hip
on my “business trips” (wink wink). I’m
exponentially more extroverted than he is but we fit together like
hand-in-glove. He’s the driving force
behind the images for In Loving Color,
we created the empire together from a dream and pure determination, so nine
times out of ten, where I go, he goes.
This trip was no different. We
listened to amazing live music, ate great food from morning till night, and we smoked
weed that had us glued to the sofa, practically comatose and simultaneously
giggling, for six hours straight. We met
the locals, made friends, we traveled the countryside, him taking breathtaking
images and me getting inspiration for my some future project. I wasn’t sure what that inspiration was or
what project that would be at the time but any time I have the opportunity to
bask in such beauty and diversity, I take that sensation and store it away in
my memory banks to use when I’m writing.
Amsterdam’s Japanese population
is relatively small but they get a fuck-ton of tourists from Japan there so
they have some pretty exceptional Japanese restaurants. One of my parlor tricks when we go out to
have sushi is to let Jason order for us.
He lived in Japan for a number of years and picked up the language extraordinarily
well. I consider him fluent, he
considers himself conversationally adequate.
When Japanese people hear him, their jaws drop and they stare in
disbelief. It never fails that people sitting near us
start whispering to themselves, and within minutes, heads start popping out
from the kitchen to see the Black guy who can speak Japanese. Our restaurant of choice for the evening was
Yamazoto and I have to give it five stars.
The food was amazing, the staff was super friendly, and the ambiance was
perfection. And the eye candy . . . it
turned out to be the best in town.
Midway through our meal, an
actual God from Black Africa walked through the doors. He was about 6’3” and blacker than blue
black. He had a bit of gray in his hair
which made him look like he could have easily been Idris Elba’s blacker, more
beautiful, big brother. Swag? He not only invented the word, he copyrighted
and trademarked that shit. He was
wearing an ensemble by MaXhosa and he looked like he just stepped off the
runway from Paris Fashion Week. Every
eye in the place turned and watched him as he made his way through the
restaurant to sit with his dinner companion, a caramel-skinned brotha who was
beautiful in his own right but over-shadowed by the glow of melanin, charm,
charisma, and pure magnetism that emanated from his cohort of deep, dark,
chocolate heaven.
As luck would have it, the pair
sat at the table next to us, I was facing the other brotha and Jason was
sitting opposite Shaka Zulu. That was
all I could think to call him at the time because words failed me in the
presence of his stature and beauty.
With the wait staff paying extra attention to both our tables, Jason and
his Japanese and brotha man being damn near a rock star, my sake cup was
practically overflowing every time I took more than two sips. I was getting tipsy and emboldened so I
started striking up a conversation with the masculine perfection to my
left. I couldn’t tell exactly what sort
of relationship he had with his dinner companion; I couldn’t tell if they were
lovers or friends or business acquaintances or what. What I could tell, unquestionably, was that big
sexy had eyes for Jason. He was smiling
and flirting and giving Jason the
I’m-going-to-stare-you-down-until-you-look-in-my-direction-and-then-I’m-going-to-let-you-know-with-my-eyes-that-I-want-to-devour-you-whole-until-you-are-intimidated-and-you-look-away
look. What? That’s a thing, isn’t it?
If I wasn’t the reigning Queen of
monogamy, very happily in love with the man of my dreams who was working on a
project in Canada and unable to join us, I would have felt like the fat, ugly,
wing-woman because brotha man didn’t even look in my direction. To his great credit, the brotha sitting next
to Jason didn’t seem to be intimidated or jealous at all. He seemed to know that he had to pause his
conversation when his friend was distracted and making goo-goo eyes at Jason
and he waited for a break in the flirting to make his important points.
Totally tipsy and typically
outgoing, I struck up a conversation with the pair. The Jews say that the name of God cannot be
pronounced or spoken. Dey was wrong, dey
was dead ass wrong. He introduced
himself as Adeshola Adetola and in that moment, a chorus of little brown
cherubs descended from heaven and started playing the pan-flute, a few
trumpets, and I’m pretty sure there was a harpsicord in the mix as well. With
his lilting French/West African accent, I was convinced that no sweeter
sounding name had ever crossed anyone’s lips in the history of mankind. His friend, Samuel Owatulu, and he were
friends from childhood in Cote D'Ivoire and they had formed a tech business
together and had moved to Amsterdam to further their education and take it to
the next level. Within minutes our tables were pushed together
and I was eating off their plates like we were good friends. Did I mention the food was out of this
world?
I couldn’t even get our names off
my lips before Adeshola erupted with glee.
He knew of In Loving Color,
our book, and he started gushing like a school boy. In all honesty, finding anyone who hadn’t
heard of our book would have been difficult to do. It would be like trying to find someone who
hadn’t heard of Harry Potter or 50 Shades of Grey. We’d sold over 20 million copies worldwide
and that was only for the hardcover coffee table book of stories and
images. The pillow-book, the
supplemental books of all photography, the videos, the entire AfroerotiK brand
was in every corner of the world. I’m
sure there were a few people on the planet who had never heard of it but they
were blind, deaf, paralyzed and lived in a cave in Uzbekistan. For all our success, Jason and I were conspicuously
low-key and could come and go without much fan-fare. We enjoyed the success without the fame and
celebrity.
Both Adeshola and Sam started
singing our praises, Sam making sure to let us know that he was in a stable,
heterosexual relationship and how our book had done wonders for his
relationship with their sex life and their communication. I think he was quick to share that
information so that he could make sure that “everyone” knew that he and his
friend weren’t lovers. And when I say
everyone, I really mean Jason. Adeshola
didn’t even attempt to hide his sexual preference and he went on and on about
how he loved that the book gave men like him, who felt free to love men and
women equally, a voice that had been silenced before. They were both going on and on about which
stories were their favorites, about which pictures and characters turned them
on the most. They were true
fanboys.
Jason loosened up and started to
be more engaged with our dinner companions, flirting back a little bit. Jason was also a man who felt free to love
both men and women equally and the process of shooting for the book, its subsequent
phenomenal success, and our resulting financial windfall, he’d sort of had to
learn to be very comfortable in his own skin and his sexual preferences, or
lack thereof. He didn’t feel the need to
wear a t-shirt that said, “I Like Dick,” but he also was very comfortable
letting it be known in appropriate settings that he had no reason to hide his
real identity. That was the reason I
wrote the book in the first place, to give people of African descent a real
model of emotional maturity, intimacy, communication, and mind-blowing sex to
arouse them. Every shape, every shade,
size and sexual preference was shown in a healthy, erotic light. You can’t be closeted or uncomfortable with
your own sexuality when you are two-handedly . . . double-handedly responsible
for moving millions of people from freaks, of both the puritanical and ghetto
varieties, to expressive, empowered, sensual, sentient, passionate, erotic,
Black beings. I wrote the stories, Jason
took the images. It wouldn’t have been
such a phenomenal success without both of those elements together so whatever
you want to call it, it wasn’t single-handedly, it was a true partnership.
Samuel and Adeshola insisted on
paying for our meal, saying that it was only fair because we had given them so
much pleasure with our book. They
invited us for drinks and weed at a café on the other side of town and we
quickly accepted. The town was replete
with jazz artists playing in small little venues and the idea of listening to
Gregory Porter in a club as big as my living room and enjoying the effects of
some of the world’s best goddamn Kush ever was an invitation that was
impossible to pass up. We piled into a
cab and Jason and Adeshola were VERY close.
They were so stunning together they could have been models for an
AfroerotiK photoshoot. They were a study
in chiaroscuro, light and dark all within the spectrum of pure BLACK. The
chemistry and sexual attraction between the two of them was so thick you could
cut it with a knife.
We all tumbled onto the sofa in
the club virtually on top of one another and looked over the cannabis
menu. I usually prefer to use oil but I
opted to vaporize the AK-47 so I could get more immediate results. Having learned my lesson from previous days, three
hits and I was sufficiently fucked up to enjoy the music and the company and
not be a drooling idiot. Before I knew
anything, J & A were shot-gunning and making out in the dimly-lit
speak-easy, exchanging tongues more than smoke.
I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
They were sexy. The contrast in
skin tones, the ease and comfort level they had with themselves, I’m not going
to lie; it was sexy as two fucks.
After the show and out in the
beautiful night air, Adeshola invited all of us back to his flat to listen to
some more music and to smoke a little bit more.
Jason and I did a quick huddle. I
told him that I didn’t want to cramp his style and I would take a cab back to
the hotel and see him whenever he got back.
Adeshola and Sam did a quick huddle of their own and before I could even
begin to guess what they were discussing, Adeshola was saying goodbye to Samuel
and telling me that I was going with Jason and he back to his place, no
questions asked. Samuel and I hugged goodbye and I hoped we
would see each other again.
I don’t even remember how we got
from the club to Adeshola’s apartment I was that buzzed. His flat looked like he did, fit for a rock
star. It was industrial and sleek and
masculine and modern with crazy sex-appeal.
Every furnishing, every piece of art was a show-stopper. With the push of a few buttons, the lights
were dimmed, music played softly, and a fire glowed in the fireplace to take
the slight chill out of the air.
Adeshola excused himself to his bedroom and returned wearing a pair of
white linen drawstring pants and not another stitch of clothing. I had to laugh as Jason’s eyes almost popped
out of his head and I heard him say, “Oh, fuck,” which I’m pretty sure was
meant to be internal dialogue.
Ade made his way to the kitchen
and was calling out to us for our drink orders.
I didn’t need another drink, I didn’t need another anything I was flying
so high so I stayed glued to the sofa and was hearing notes in songs that I was
absolutely sure no one else had ever heard before. Jason asked for a Rum Runner and then
nonchalantly made his way to the kitchen to help make it. I was pretty sure he didn’t want a Rum
Runner, a Rum Jogger, or a Rum Speed-Walker, he just wanted to be close to
Adeshola.
I’ll be honest, I have no idea
how much time had passed but eventually, I realized that I had been sitting
there alone for a very long time. I got
up and made my way to the kitchen. “Hey,
what are you guys . . .” I stopped
mid-sentence.
There, in the middle of the small
kitchen, was Jason, on his knees giving an incredibly slow, sensual, deep
blow-job. Adeshola looked up at me and
let me know it was some of the best head he’d ever had in his life, biting his
lower lip and his eyes rolling back slightly in his head. He caressed Jason’s head and fucked his mouth
gently. My boy was going all in. He was
licking and fingering balls, he was stroking and sucking and I could hear
Adeshola’s soft moans getting louder and louder.
He grabbed his dick and pulled it
away. In his sexy West African accent he
said, “Jason here tells me you like to watch.
I understand you don’t want to play, that’s off limits. But, if you are interested, would you care to
join us in the bedroom while we get more comfortable? I’m going to fuck your
friend all night long.” Jason
moaned.
Uhmmm, did I want to watch? I would have donated a kidney in that moment
to be able to watch these two. I would
have done the operation myself with no anesthesia to be able to watch. Adeshola held out his hand and Jason steadied
himself to stand up. Having discarded
his linen pants and fully naked, his dick was thick and long and shiny with
spit and stood proudly against his abs.
He turned to walk to the bedroom and his ass was a sculptor’s dream in
Ebony. I had the good sense to find my
phone to call my boo and tell him very quickly what was about to go down. We had complete trust in one another and he
had no reason to be afraid I was going to do anything to jeopardize our
relationship. He knew that I was
comfortable enough with my sexuality that I am a confirmed voyeur; I’m aroused
by seeing people be uninhibited and intimate.
I slid my panties off and put
them in my purse and made my way to where the action was. In the bedroom there was a chair that was
perfect for me to observe the goings on.
Things were already heating up. I
positioned myself comfortably; hopefully my dress would provide enough
protection so I wouldn’t make a mess in the seat. Ade and Jason were kissing. It had to be one of the most sensual, erotic
kisses I’d ever witnessed, and again, I’m in the business of creating erotica
so try to grasp the full impact of what I’m saying. They were making love with their mouths. Adeshola held Jasons face gently in his hands
and their tongues were communicating their desire for each other. I was pretty convinced, although I couldn’t
be sure, that this was going to be way more than a one night stand. Jason and I had known each other almost 20
years. We’d shared lots of intimate and
sexual voyeuristic opportunities with one another. Never before had I felt this electric current
before that seemed to fill the room.
Adeshola took charge and I knew
my boy loved it. He undressed Jason
slowly, seducing him, teasing him. Every
button on his shirt seemed to take FORRRRever to unbutton. Once Jason’s shirt was gone, Adeshola teased
and twisted Jason’s nipples, not brutally, but definitely enough to get a
response. Jason’s response was to grab
for that black fuckstick and try to suck it again, he wanted things to progress
faster. He hated the tease and he simultaneously
loved the tease. He loved being
seduced. I think Adeshola was a little shocked when he
unzipped Jason’s pants and pulled out a huge hunk of meat. It certainly rivaled his own in length and
girth and it was standing at full attention.
It was Adeshola’s turn to display his oral skills and he pushed Jason
down on the edge of the bed and got between his legs on his knees and started
sucking him off like a champ. It was
clear that the roles of top and bottom were antiquated to Adeshola as he was
about pleasure, both giving and receiving it.
And Jason was receiving it in spades.
Ade licked his way down his chest, teased his nipples, his tongue
circled the head and licked the precum that was freely flowing. A master at deep-throating, he showed off his
skills.
By this time, I could see that Jason
was about to explode and he had to put a stop to the oral action. “Come on, Daddy, give me some of that big
dick,” he said and he laid back on the bed and held his legs up, inviting
Adeshola to plow him deep and hard. Not
one to be rushed, Adeshola wanted to enjoy all the sensations his new lover had
to offer. He grabbed Jason’s thighs and
pushed them further back, touching his chest, and made a dive to eat some hot
ass. Jason groaned like a wounded
animal. His head thrashed about on the
pillow, back and forth. I was beside
myself with arousal and I slid my finger between my pussy lips gently, afraid I
was going to cum too quickly.
Jason started speaking in
Japanese, Adeshola in French. I couldn’t
understand what the hell either of the two of them were saying but I didn’t
need a translator. I could tell from the
look on Jason’s face that he was in the throes of intense pleasure. The tongue fucking he was getting was
superb. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to make eye contact with me to show
me that he was loving every second of this.
He shut his eyes tightly and thrust his ass to make that tongue go
deeper. He stroked his big dick and started
saying, “Fuck me, ram that big black dick in my pussy, Daddy. Make me your nasty little bitch, Daddy. Hard, long, deep, dick my wet pussy.”
They kissed again, sharing in the
intimate taste of ass. Adeshola flipped Jason
over and positioned him on his knees with his head on the pillows. His hole was wet and loose and winked at him
to invade it deeply. Adeshola grabbed a
bottle of lube from the nightstand and poured it liberally on his big, dark
meat. Jason turned his head and he made
eye contact with me. I was rubbing my
pussy and moaning, ready to shoot my cum across the room. It signified, for me, a level of trust he had
with me that said that he would do things in front of me that he wouldn’t do in
front of anyone else in the world.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” was all he
said. It was understood by all what he needed. Feeling that throbbing, enormous,
super-black, dick pumping him, filling him, was what he craved. He wanted the connection of having his lover
inside him. He wanted sex the way it was
supposed to be.
Adeshola didn’t hesitate. He lined up the head of his dick with Jason’s
hole and pushed it in. They both
moaned. “Tell me you love this dick, say
you love it.”
Jason complied almost before the
request could be completed. “I love that
fucking dick. Harder! Deeper!
Fuck my pussy. FUCK it! I need it so bad.” The room filled with the scents of real men
fucking: sweat, pheromones, and ass. I
came. I tried to hold back but I
couldn’t help it. It didn’t stop me one
bit. I was still wet and aroused and
masturbating and wanting more. They gave
me more. They changed positions and Jason
rode Ade, bouncing up and down trying to get every millimeter of that gorgeous
penis inside him.
They switched positions again and
this time they were face to face. They
started kissing again as Adeshola aimed his powerful dick at its intended
target and drove it home. Jason wrapped
his legs around him and tried to pull him in deeper. The moaning from all three of us was at a
fevered pitch. Jason grabbed his dick
and started stroking it and begging for Adeshola to deposit his cum as deeply
as he could. Jason came first. His cum shot all the way up to his face,
landing on his mouth. He licked his lips
as Ade kissed him again and started pounding his raw, well-fucked hole. He was a man on a mission. I couldn’t believe he had lasted this
long. He grabbed Jason’s legs and pushed
them back and started ramming his dick harder than I would have thought
possible. “Mon dieu! Fuuuuck!”
He collapsed.
Within a minute, the two of them
were a mass of flesh, light and dark, intimately intertwined, snuggling and
falling fast asleep. I collected myself
and covered them with the sheet. I
freshened up in the powder room and left them there to rest, rejuvenate, communicate,
and fuck some more.
Copyright 2015 AfroerotiK
