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 couple. Show all posts
Showing posts with label couple. Show all posts

Friday, November 11, 2011

Tag Team Back Again




My man and I are a threat to be reckoned with.  I’m a cruel psychological Domme that loves to humiliate and degrade and he’s a sadistic Dom that loves to administer a little bit of pain with his weapon of mass destruction.  He’s got 10 inches of thick, hard man meat that is waiting to be sucked and he loves to ram tight white asscunts. 

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (Complete Story)


Time is measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years.  Distance is measured in feet, yards, acres, and miles.  But time can feel like it’s frozen in place and a few hundred miles can feel like hundreds of light years when you are away from the one you love.  There is a delicate equilibrium to maintaining a long-distance love affair.  Most people think that the time and the distance away from a lover keep the relationship fresh and exciting.  The perception is that if you only see one another every few months, that you are filled with passion and lust for one another; that you don’t have to deal with the mundane and the tedium that plague average relationships.  To some extent, there is validity in that theory.  You have to squeeze a whole lot of loving and living into a few days when you live far apart from the one you love and sometimes you can’t wait to tear each other’s clothes off and get into some hot and sweaty love-making.  Sure, there is a lot of late night phone sex, and sexting, and all the other forms of intimacy people can share with new technology to hold you over.  But people who are in long-distance love affairs know all too well the down sides of having a partner who is not there day in and day out.  They know about the lonely nights and empty beds, the subtle fear and insecurity that creeps into your subconscious mind, wondering if your lover is finding comfort in the arms of another.  Being separated from your lover is no fun when you need a shoulder to cry on or a simple hug.  The rush you get when you see each other is countered by the long, painful goodbyes that feel like your heart is being ripped out.  Once the relationship has survived the obstacles of time and distance, then there is always the dreaded “conversation,” the looming question is always hanging out there, just beneath the surface at every reunion, “When is it time to move this to the next level?  When is it time for us to move closer together?  What will it take for us to make that commitment?”  Bill and Suzy Suburbia never have to deal with those issues, never have to factor those things into their stable, familiar day in and day out equation.

Cynthia and Esteban were working out the dynamics of a long-distance relationship in their relationship.   When Cynthia moved to Chicago from Philly, the couple didn’t have years together to solidify their connection, they had a few months, a rough and rocky start, and a tremendous connection.  If their affair was to survive, it was going to have to make it on a wing and a prayer, a commitment to honesty, fidelity, and open communication.  It wasn’t the ideal arrangement but it was going to have to work for them as long as they were in love with one another and determined to make it work.  

Esteban had been feeling the pangs of something unfamiliar, something nagging at his gut.  In his heart, he knew that Cynthia was a wonderful woman and perfectly suited for him.  They were compatible in so many ways and the sex was great, which means a lot when you are “no spring chicken” shall we say.  But his commitment to a relationship where he only got sex every few months had been on his mind.  In his heart, he wasn’t sure he could handle the temptation much longer nor was he even sure he wanted to.  Sex with Cynthia was fantastic when they had it, and they had enough phone and cam sex to relieve some of the pressure but it wasn’t the same as flesh to flesh contact.  In his heart he KNEW he didn’t want to be in a relationship with any another woman, Cynthia WAS the woman for him, but he wasn’t as convinced he didn’t want to get hot and sweaty between the sheets with someone else.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her but he didn’t think he could live indefinitely with the concept of having sex every three months either.  He knew Cynthia was feeling the pains of separation herself.  He heard the longing in her voice when they spoke on the phone, the growing insecurity she had that he was ready to move on, and he saw the unconditional love and passion she had for him when they were together just lounging around the hotel room when he went to visit.  Neither of them was ready to relocate to be closer to one another again and financially it was still too much of a burden to visit much more often than they did.  He held on to his love for her.  He struggled to remain faithful and, if he was being honest with himself, he was ready for the relationship to move to the next level.  A year of being apart was more than enough time for him to recognize that he didn’t want to live without her but circumstances demanded that they did.

Cynthia was struggling with the distance as well.  For her, it wasn’t so much the temptation of having sex with someone else, it was the lack of intimacy that haunted her.  She needed the touch, the bond, the physical presence of her lover there to keep her motivated on her goals; she needed that shoulder to cry on when she was weary.  It was her job that caused them to be apart and hardly a night went by where she didn’t want to pack it all up and run back to him.  She made a point of bringing up their fidelity frequently enough to let him know that she was aware of his physical needs and she just wanted to stay informed but she didn’t bring it up so much as to lead the horse to the water so to speak.  Cynthia wasn’t sure if their relationship could endure being open but she needed to know that she was going to be kept up to date and in the loop BEFORE the dynamics of their relationship changed. 

With a significant tax refund check in hand, Esteban decided that the best thing to do in order for the couple to recharge their batteries and decide what the next step should be would be to take a much needed vacation for the two of them.  Initially, he was planning on going to New Orleans but there, in the travel agent’s office, he decided he wanted to take her to his hometown, a secluded village in Puerto Rico called Aguadilla.  He knew there that they could be undisturbed and uninhibited.  Aguadilla was exotic and exciting yet comfortable and familiar and someplace they could both just relax and unwind.  An extended four day weekend would be just what they needed to and talk about their future and decide what was to lay ahead for them.

They had connecting flights in Miami and they met in the airport lounge.  Cynthia’s face lit up when she saw him and erupted in that smile that was reserved only for her man.  Esteban was filled with that feeling of intense lust and emotional connection every time he was in the presence of his lady love.  Thanks to a very romantic ticket agent who could tell the two were in love, they were upgraded to first class.  True to her adventurous spirit, Cynthia was intent on igniting passions even before they left the runway.  As they slid into the seats she leaned over to Esteban and whispered, “Honey, I’m so absent minded.  I think I forgot to put on my panties.”  She winked and slid her tongue in his ear seductively.

Esteban tried to remain as calm as possible but he was visibly moved by her naughty revelation.  He glanced down at her smooth, brown legs and ran his eyes up to the bottom of her floral-print silk dress.  Cynthia, feeling particularly bold and empowered, shifted in her seat and spread her legs ever so slightly.  She raised the hem of her skirt a little more to expose more of her sexy thighs as Esteban glanced around to get an idea of who was around and get his bearings.  No one was directly across from them, thank goodness.  Esteban was going to enjoy the ride, literally and figuratively, and with any luck, it would be an extremely bumpy one.

Cynthia leaned closer again; this time whispering in his ear of how wet her pussy was, of how she couldn’t wait to have his hard cock pounding in and out of her hot, tight cunt.  Esteban was feeling light headed and they hadn’t even begun to taxi on the runway.  If she wanted to play, he was going to make her pay.  He leaned in closer and slid his hands up the silky smooth skin of her inner thighs.  Cynthia held his gaze firmly as she spread her legs just a bit more.  As his fingers explored her legs, as he began caressing her sleek folds; electricity shot through his body as his fingers felt the slippery juices of her wetness.

“Okay, enough of that sweetie, let’s wait until we land,” she said.  Cynthia was being playfully coy and flirtatious but Esteban had other plans in mind.  He gently pushed her legs apart more and began softly circling her clit with his index finger.  Cynthia hadn’t planned on things getting so public so soon, her plans were to pace themselves, and let the tension build.  Esteban had other plans in mind.

In a smooth, confident tone, he whispered, “Spread your legs for me.”

Cynthia felt powerless to do anything but comply.  She began nervously looking around, to see who could see their goings on.  She tried to push his hand away but the way he was touching her was causing her mind to be clouded.  Her pussy lips felt so good and the wetter she became the more her inhibitions were washed away.  She regretted her rather flimsy, ill-thought out plan almost immediately, being willing to concede that Esteban was far more of an exhibitionist than she had ever been.

The male flight attendant was making his way down the aisle and Esteban’s fingers got more adventurous.  He pushed Cynthia’s legs open wider and searched for her sweet spot.  Cynthia, practically panicked at the thought of being discovered, was doing her best to dissuade Esteban’s antics as quietly as possible.  She began making negotiations, bargaining, whispering whatever she could to get him to stop what she was sure was going to cause a very public and embarrassing scene.

Esteban would not be denied.  He spread the lips of her sweet pussy and began his digital assault on her aroused clit.  Cynthia squirmed and waged a battle in her own mind about her conflicting emotions.  On one hand, she loved how her man was making her feel, on the other, she was too conservative and shy, too scared to be discovered.  Her body was winning the war as her pussy was leaking and her juices were actually running down her ass.  Esteban stepped up the pace and inserted a finger in her pussy and Cynthia actually had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out load.  He leaned in close, brushed his soft, sexy lips against the nape of her neck and whispered, “Don’t fight it, cum for me.”

Cynthia closed her eyes.  She was about to take a trip, literally and figuratively to a place she had never been before.  The flight attendant was only one seat away when he turned to Esteban and Cynthia.  He froze momentarily.  Esteban, not at all afraid to openly display their sexuality, gave him a knowing look that said, “Don’t say a word, just acknowledge and enjoy,” and the gentleman did a quick double take and calmly asked if there was anything he could do to make their trip more enjoyable.  Esteban shoved another finger in Cynthia at that very moment and she was helpless to do anything but surrender to the exquisite sensations he was giving her body.  Esteban never took his eyes off the flight attendant as he continued to finger fuck Cynthia’s hot pussy.  Beneath the rumpled folds of her dress, he was thrusting his hand between her legs.  Cynthia wanted to keep her eyes shut but she couldn’t.  She was compelled to keep them open, to look directly at the very attractive man who was staring down at her, to let him know that what Esteban was doing felt incredible and she didn’t want it to stop.  She was outside of her comfort zone and feeling vulnerable but she relented to the waves of pleasure that overtook her.  She was incredibly turned on and she trusted her man enough to let him have his moment of very public arousal.

Esteban was truly beside himself as he held the strange man’s attention, captivated and frozen with his actions.  The woman seated beside him was fighting an orgasm in a very public place and the man standing inches from him in the aisle of the plane was obviously very aroused by the scene before him.  The flight attendant’s breathing was becoming labored as he held his eyes fixed to the spot between Cynthia’s legs.  It was all Cynthia could do not to scream right then and there.  She was grinding on Esteban’s fingers, trying to get them deeper, trying to get them to hit her magic spot, trying to be quiet.  Esteban grabbed Cynthia’s hand and placed it on his dick, which could was clearly outlined through his pants.  She started stroking it, hypnotized by the sensations she was feeling, her body aching for release.  She could feel the warming sensations traveling her body.  He could feel her muscles tense up as she was climbing towards her peak.  The flight attendant was in a daze, glancing around to see if anyone was aware of what was going on, and cautious of what the repercussions might be for himself if any of his colleagues discovered his complicity in the obscene behavior, and completely turned on as a man.  Cynthia could hear herself whispering, “Oh no . .  . Oh my God,” over and over again, but she wasn’t in any sort of position or rush to stop, she was feeling too much pleasure.

Without notice, Esteban stopped; he pulled his fingers out of her pussy abruptly and left both Cynthia and the flight attendant gasping for air.  The entire scene probably only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity; like there had been a glitch in the time and space continuum that made seconds seem like hours.  He began casually chatting with the flight attendant about the options for lunch as Cynthia was trying to regain control.  He held his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply; even taking the opportunity to lick away some of the sweet juices there as he repositioned his dick and went about his business like nothing had happened.  Cynthia was still aroused and tingling with sensations.  She pushed her seat back and gave herself over to the feeling that it was going to be a memorable trip.


The isle of Puerto Rico was home for Esteban and he gave his beloved a tour that included not only the amenities the island had to offer but also included the places most significant to his childhood.  He showed her the very spot he lost his virginity, the high school he attended, and the house he was raised.  The hotel they were staying at was charming and secluded and everything one could ask for in an exotic paradise getaway.  The beaches looked like blankets of soft sand made by God for lounging and relaxing even with their ominous-sounding names like Crash Boat and Gas Chambers.  The crystal clear blue water didn’t even look real, the azure color was that of a captivating and mesmerizing semi-precious gem and the temperature invited all those who dared to dip their toes in its foaming surf to bathe in its gentle waves.  Before long, Esteban and Cynthia were settled into their suite, comfortable, and they had shed the stress and tension of their daily lives and were luxuriating in their tropical love nest.  The food couldn’t be fresher, caught from the sea and prepared daily, the sweet and spicy flavors of the Caribbean mixing perfectly to please even the pickiest of palettes.  The sounds of salsa music and drums filled the air, providing the perfect backdrop to keep the blood pumping and the tension of eroticism ever-present.  Even without asking, fruity alcoholic beverages in fresh coconut shells with little umbrellas appeared like magic from young, bronzed, shirtless hunks of masculinity and machismo named Juan or Miguel.


For the couple, this vacation was an opportunity to experiment, to explore, and to take the next step, wherever that led.  Esteban knew that this trip was setting the stage for the next phase in their relationship.  Esteban’ biggest present was to come, when he revealed to his long-term, long distance lover his plans for the future.  Cynthia was considering her own options.  She was loving every second of this impromptu getaway and she wanted to commemorate it in a very special way.  They had often talked about the idea of anal sex but they had never tried it with one another.  After her third mango colada, the throbbing intensity of her pussy and her hormones were convincing her that not only would it be a good idea, but that she was actually anxious to get down to business.  She was the perfect level of tipsy, enough to feel no pain, and to experience that uninhibited freedom that liquor affords but not so out of it that she wasn’t responsible or would get sick and forget and regret everything in the morning.

Nestled safely in the confines of their ocean-view suite, Cynthia smiled, feeling that familiar tingle in her bottom, inspired by the thought that they were going to completely lose themselves in a new sexual frontier.  She slid her sexy body next to his, kissed him deeply, and whispered that she was going to go to the bathroom for a few to freshen up.

Cynthia returned minutes later to a darkened room, the light of the full moon from the open balcony doors the only illumination.  Esteban was reclining on the bed, stroking himself in anticipation of making love to his brown beauty.  Still sufficiently tipsy, Cynthia climbed on the bed and snuggled her naked papaya and cocoa butter scented body next to him, using her body to create some sexual tension and friction.   She grabbed her container of shea butter and positioned herself on her stomach, and wordlessly instructed her lover that she wanted a massage.  He complied happily, warming the oil between his palms before kneading her flesh with gentle, loving strokes.

Cynthia decided to keep her secret a while longer but she wanted to tempt and tease Esteban.  Every time he would get closer to her buttcheeks, she would moan and wiggle around, letting him know that he was doing the right thing.  Esteban was not immune to her reactions and he began caressing and kneading her backside with more sensual attention.  Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Why don’t you finger me . . . back there,” and nervously buried her face in the pillow.  Esteban caught on immediately and started working more of the slippery oil between his fingers to get her ready.

Wanting to go very slow, not for a second wanting to cause Cynthia a fraction of a second of pain, he ran his finger up the inside of her thighs, teasing the bottom of her ass, and traced her spine up and down.  Cynthia was beside herself and moaning and making all sorts of noises.  Inspired by her liquid courage, she grabbed the cheeks of her ass and pulled them apart, winking her asshole at him.  “Do it honey,” she purred, “do it.”

Esteban almost lost it then and there.  He turned the intensity of his massage up a bit and placed his finger at the entrance to her backdoor.  Cynthia had never felt anything so sinfully delicious in her life.  She arched her back and slid her fingers between her legs to her clit, rubbing the engorged button sensually, making her level of arousal increase that much more so.  Esteban, taking matters into his own hands so to speak, slid his other hand between her swollen pussy lips and felt the slippery moisture that had collected there.  By this time, Cynthia was humping the bed and thrusting her ass back at her lover.

“Are you sure you want this?”  Esteban wanted to be sure that what he thought was going to happen was really what Cynthia wanted and needed.

She seductively looked back at him and said, “Oh yes, honey, I want you to really fuck my ass good tonight.”



Esteban almost fainted.  He was sure that was the sexiest thing he had ever heard anyone say in his entire life.  Taking his time, he began his seduction of her backdoor.  He was slow and intentional.  By the time he had worked his finger in her, Cynthia was oblivious to anything but pleasure.  “MORE,” she panted desperately.  He was all the way to the third knuckle when she was saying how delicious it felt, how should couldn’t believe they had waited so long for this, that she was loving every second.  Her pleas became commands, “MORE,” she demanded.

“Babe, I already have two fingers in you all the way.  Are you ready for the real thing?”

Cynthia, quite sure that she could take his dick in her butt, stimulated by the nerve endings in her ass, the sensation of lust, her intoxication, her hard nipples, throbbing clit, dripping pussy and the love she felt for her man, she got up and sensually walked to the open balcony door.  There, in the cool night air, she crawled, naked, onto the chaise lounge and got on her knees and presented her ass like a gift to her man, the ocean a panoramic backdrop to her brazen sexuality.

Esteban got behind her and stared in awe, the salty sea air and Atlantic heat fueling his passions.  He spread the lips of her gorgeous pussy and dove in, tongue first, drinking her juices and spreading them around, getting her prepared.  He rubbed a liberal amount of lubricant on the head of his cock and took aim.  Cynthia controlled the pace and told him when to push and when to hold still by using the commands more and wait.  By the time he had managed to work the entire length of his shaft in her taboo place, Cynthia was sweating and shaking.  Perspiration covered her entire body and shone in the reflection of the moon.  “MORE,” she grunted.

“Babe, I can’t, it’s all the way in,” Esteban responded.  In a state of disbelief, Cynthia reached back and felt the connection of their two bodies.  Other than a brief second or two of discomfort, nothing even close to pain, she realized that she was getting ready to get fucked in the ass.  Just the thought of that in her head made her want to explode, it was so forbidden and sexy and hot.  “Esteban, baby, do it, fuck me.  Fuck me in my ass. Do it, honey. Fuck my asshole.”

A lesser man would have lost it and pounded away with reckless abandon.  Thank goodness Esteban was always the man in control.  He heard her ardent plea but knew he had to go slow.  Slow and steady wins the race and he built up a slow, sexy pace, met with the Cynthia’s thrusts.  The sensation for Esteban was overwhelming: it was tighter, hotter, and more intense than he had ever imagined.  Every nerve in Cynthia’s body felt electrified, she was being pleasured by this new, erotic sensation, the intimacy and the closeness was out of this world.  In so many ways, this was more than just something she was doing for her man; it was something she was enjoying as a woman who was taking control of her own passions.

That revelation was enough to push her over the edge.  She pushed her fingers in her pussy and could feel the engorged ridge of Esteban’ cockhead through the thin wall that separated her pussy and ass as he thrust harder and harder in her back door.  Her juices coated her fingers.  She rubbed her clit in time with his pounding.  Their breathing was in sync and anyone who was walking the beach could have looked up and seen them there, heard their cries of passion.  Cynthia felt the tremors of her orgasm approaching.  She knew without a doubt in her mind that she wanted to make Esteban cum with her ass before she exploded and couldn’t take any more stimulation; she wanted to make her man lose control and experience indescribable pleasure in this newfound way.  “Esteban,” she panted, “Oh, baby, come on, I want you to cum for me. Fuck me.  FUCK ME.  Shoot your cum in my ass.  Deep baby.  Dick me.  I need it.  Fuck my tight asshole.”

Esteban didn’t need to be told twice.  He was already on the verge.  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the pleasure her tight orifice gave him.  Within minutes, he knew he had reached the point of no return.  He grabbed her hips and withdrew his cock almost to the head and thrust it deeply in again and again.  The sound of Cynthia’s moans, the grip her muscles had on him, the exhibitionism, the location, everything served to drive him over the edge and he erupted like a volcano, collapsing to his knees momentarily and then crumbling like a spent and exhausted athlete who had crossed the finish line first.

Breathlessly, Esteban whispered in her ear, “Baby, marry me.”  He hadn’t planned on saying it then, there, like that, but the moment was right.  Cynthia’s eyes filled with tears and she laughed simultaneously.  Even in their post coital bliss, she knew that marriage, the act itself, wasn’t in the cards for them, it was just his way of saying that he was as committed to her as he would ever be, that he couldn’t love her any more than he did.  She didn’t want to move; she didn’t want to spoil the moment.  Esteban knew in that instant that the flight home would be spent discussing the future more than sexy displays of exhibitionism.  He didn’t know what the future held for either of them; all he knew was that he wanted it to include some manifestation of the two of them and the special love that they shared.  The last three days on their island vacation, they fucked, made love, screwed, and fucked some more.  There was to be no more anal sex on that particular trip, Cynthia was a bit tender and needed some time to recuperate, but she had gotten the greatest gift of all in knowing that her soul mate and long distance lover envisioned a future, together, with her.

Copyright 2011 AfroerotiK  All Rights Reserved
If you are interested in getting a customized, personalized story written just for you, about you, contact me for details. 

Thursday, July 22, 2010

At Last


My entire relationship with Charles, what little there was of it, consisted of countless opportunities for emotional growth and never-ending nights of frustration. We hadn’t been dating long, only a few months, but our liaison was defined by what seemed to be an endless supply of patience on Charles’ part and innumerable occasions for me to redefine myself anew. Unfortunately, I am plagued with a biological preponderance for self-doubt which he was challenging me to face head on. My mother hadn’t bonded with me during her pregnancy thus I was left challenged to form healthy, loving relationships as an adult. My brain had been wired differently in the womb than most people’s, my subconscious mind operated under the assumption that I was inherently unlovable and intrinsically without value despite how much work I’d done on myself, no matter how many rituals I’d performed, regardless of how many pages I’d written in my journal or affirmations I’d recited in the mirror, even in spite of how wonderful I believed myself to be in my heart. I’d taken tremendous strides toward healing and I had shown marked improvement and I was more than willing to exert the effort needed for me to tackle the internal demons that had been preventing me from attracting someone who was capable of loving me unconditionally.

Apparently, I was doing something right, because I had attracted this amazing, enlightened man of my dreams into my life. So while I didn’t entirely feel worthy of his love, I knew in my heart and in my soul that I was divinely worthy of a love that was greater than my mind could imagine and Charles was intent on proving to me that he wanted to give me every bit of his love. From the moment we met, from the moment I laid eyes on him, I was drawn to his energy, his aura, and his incredible beauty. Initially, in his presence, I felt like he was going to reject me at any moment; I felt like he would prefer someone with a name like Ausar Nut Ma’at Imhotep, who wore locs and constantly smelled of patchouli oil, and who carried around incense and shea butter in the red, black, and green backpack that she had crocheted by hand. I just knew in my heart that he could never really love a woman who wrote about sex and sexuality and whose opinions on race and gender were so outside the norm, who loved wearing high heels occasionally, and who showed signs of insecurity and doubt openly. Luckily, I was wrong. He saw me as infinitely talented, grounded, inspired, and beautiful and he felt the pull of my African centered consciousness and saw my ability to free the descendents of slaves from our mental and psychological bondage with my words.

We vibrated on the same level in so many ways. While not identical in our every thought, we shared similar master numerological energies, spiritual outlooks, and interests. There was something very holistic and organic about what we shared and he was more than willing to nurture and heal my soul and that meant more to me than anything else. Our masculine and feminine energies complimented one another and we just seemed to fit like hand in glove.

For weeks, we grew together. Our days were filled toiling in the earth, growing vegetables, expanding our consciousness academically and culturally. We were always preparing food together as we were both dedicated to a living and raw diet and we even fasted together as well. He pushed me to trust him, to trust that he loved me, to see myself as the special and unique being he saw me as. I met each challenge he gave me head on, never afraid to push myself. Much of our time was spent in meditation or doing ritual. Sometimes we sat in silence, other times would laugh, talk, and listen to music until the early hours of the morning. I loved that he never made me feel like a victim or try to pity me because I was going blind. Charles would use his inspired words to paint pictures so I could see through his eyes and he helped me work out how to get around my apartment with my eyes closed for when the day would come when I had no sight at all. In every way imaginable, he was there for me like no other man had ever been there before and I found myself in falling in love with him in ways that were more profound than I had ever thought possible.

At times, our evenings were simmering, smoldering, and steamy, building a raging inferno of sexual tension between us. He seemed to know how to get me to the edge of explosion without any direct stimulation of my special places. He could whisper in my ear, telling me all the things he wanted to do to me, describing his fantasies about me in poetic, glorious detail and I would melt. He had the ability to lay his body on mine, I could feel his erection, engorged and rock hard grinding against me, and I could detect his unbridled passion, his intense desire to be inside me. His energy was strong and I would arch my back and wrap my legs around him as we kissed, hoping against hope that he would cross the threshold into my sacred space without my verbal consent. My hardened nipples would ache for his mouth to devour them and my swollen, wet pussy throbbed with anticipation and delicious expectation of his penetration. I’ll be the first to admit that when things would get hot and I was on the brink of erotic surrender, I would sometimes freeze up and ask him to stop. It had nothing to do with him. I was letting old tapes play in my head about being used, about men in my past who didn’t mind sexing me up but didn’t want a relationship with me. Charles wanted our lovemaking to be unfettered by fear or negativity; I didn’t want to have any emotional blocks between us. And we both wanted us to join in a union of transcendent, unparalleled ecstasy so we waited until the time was right.

Other times, the subject of sexuality never entered our evening experience. Sometimes, I could sense that I shouldn’t initiate anything romantic or sexual between us because he was at his very limit for frustration. I would hug him and he would give me a look letting me know that I needed to back off. On those nights, after we would part, I would lie in bed alone, pleasuring myself, wanting to call him to me and invite him to be my lover. When I showered, my fingers would find the slippery folds of my pussy and rub my clit and I would imagine him thrusting deeply inside me, completing me. I imagined him, at home alone, white cotton sheets covering his nude body, his erection tenting the covers, a sheen of perspiration covering his lean frame as he lay tortured, frustrated and aroused, thinking of me.

Our dance of frustration came to a screeching halt one night without much fanfare or preparation. We were fixing dinner one night and I was standing at the sink washing up a few dishes as he was moving around the kitchen doing his thing. I felt him slide up behind me, placing his arms on the counter beside me, his lips brushing the nape of my neck. He used his body to push me against the counter and I could feel the evidence of his erection against my backside. Instinctively, I pushed back, grinding the soft, full curves of my ass against him, leaning my body back and luxuriating in his hands caressing my waist and his nibbles to my earlobe. I could feel my temperature rising and my body was responding to his every touch.

As if by conditioning, when I could tell things were reaching their critical boiling point, I said, “Come on baby, stop. Let’s not get too carried away.” That did nothing to deter him however and he became even more assertive, sliding his hands over my breasts and making me elicit the most intense moans of pleasure. “Mmmm, king, that feels amazing.” I forgot all about my request to have him stop momentarily and I met his every thrust with equal passion. As the temperature began to rise, I renewed my objections, thinking he would be at his threshold and he would be packing up his stuff and heading for the door any minute.

Turning me around, facing him, using his body to press my body against the counter, Charles took my face in his hands. “Queen, I’m not going anywhere. I love you; you are in love with me.” I stood frozen. I heard the words fall softly from his lips like lyrics to a song. I diverted my eyes to the floor and he tilted my chin up, his eyes meeting mine. He said it again and this time I held his gaze intently. “I am in love with you and you . . .”



“And I am in love with you,” I cut him off. I swallowed hard, half expecting the floor to open up and swallow me whole but deep in my heart knowing that, at last, I had found the love that I had been searching for all my life, for many lifetimes. “I . . . ,” the words momentarily got caught in my throat and found the strength to go on and speak my truth, fixing my gaze on his beautiful brown eyes for comfort, “I . . . need you. I want you to stay tonight. Join with me. Be my lover tonight. Enter me, taste me, and feel my . . .”

This time, he cut me off with a kiss. He placed his mouth gently against mine and tasted my lips. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was much more. It was his declaration of love. I breathed in his air and we became united in that instant. I kissed him, his tongue softly and gently conforming to mine in a soulful dance. My heart raced as I felt his lean body press more deeply into mine, feeling his engorged manhood against my mound. My breasts pressed against his chest and I started to unbutton his shirt, tracing my lips down his slightly salty neck, eliciting gentle moans from him.

Something about him, about what we shared comforted me and I released all my inhibitions and allowed myself to be sensual, erotic, passionate, and primal without reservation. He met me where I was and matched my passions equally. Our kisses become more fevered; his hands under my sarong and slid up the soft, inner flesh of my thighs, finding the moist juncture between my legs. I took his hand and held it firmly in my own. “Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered.

He led the way; I followed with complete trust. Inside my sanctuary, the lights off, he made his way around the room, lighting candles as I put on some music. We met in the middle of the room and embraced again. This was our night to join together in a holy, transcendent union. This was the quintessential union of man and woman, of masculine and feminine energies, of yin and yang. This was the universe revealing itself, creationism and evolution coming together in the ultimate expression.

He laid me on the bed and untied my sarong; he unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my body. Pulling his locs up and securing them atop his head, he began to make a feast of my body. Slowly, methodically, he used his mouth to lick, suck, taste, and kiss every inch of my body. His lips gently explored the inside of my elbow and his tongue made sensual love to my belly button. As ticklish as I am, I couldn’t stop squirming and giggling. It made me more at ease; I was able to laugh and enjoy every delicious second of his seduction. Charles’ hands explored my curves and with each passing caress, with each tender stroke, I became more and more aroused. I responded to each touch with a moan, a guttural groan, and a heavy sigh. My skin tingled under the manipulations of his fingertips.

Just when I thought I was at the very limit of my arousal, when I thought I could take not one more millisecond of stimulation, Charles decided he was going to up the stakes. Standing, he removed his clothing and stood beautifully naked and erect before me. Without using words, he used his eyes alone to instruct me to spread my legs. I arched my back and did as I was “told” sliding my hands down my body, teasing him seductively. The candlelight bathed his silhouette beautifully, creating shadows and light on his golden skin. I was beyond aroused; each and every one of my senses was stimulated and heightened. My mouth watered staring at him; I wanted to explore his body with my mouth the way he had done with mine but Charles had other plans.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for this moment from the day we met. I need to feel you explode in my mouth. I want to give you pleasure untold and drink freely from your center.” I slid my finger between my engorged lips, brought my finger to my lips and seductively sucked it, tasting my slippery, sweet juices. He took his time, positioning himself so that he was comfortable between my legs. He wasn’t one to be rushed. At first, he just stared at me, taking in every detail of my sacred sex. He spread my lips and studied my clit and lips like a painter studies his subject. He inhaled deeply my fragrance, intoxicated by my personal aroma. Then, only after he had taken in every detail, memorized my every contour to memory, he closed his eyes and softly, gently, lowered his mouth to my flesh. I let out a sound that was otherworldly. Bliss consumed every pore in my body. He tasted, licked, sucked, and kissed me, building my passion, raising my energy up my chakras. I wrapped my legs around his head and grabbed a handful of locs. I was nearing the point of no return. My muscles tightened and my orgasm was eminent. Charles was a man on a mission. He used his fingers to penetrate my holes and his mouth to gently, rhythmically suck my clit. Unable to hold off any longer, I released my cum into his mouth. I shook and trembled with ecstasy but that was not he signal to stop. He wanted my orgasm to unfold against itself, to replicate like a strand of DNA.

Trembling and shaking, I felt intoxicated with pleasure. I was beyond wet; I had soaked the sheets with my juices. Taking his true place between my legs, he positioned himself to penetrate me for the very first time. I wanted to speak words in the moment but none came. Our communication was cellular. I felt him enter me and he took my breath away. I met each thrust and he maintained eye contact with me intensely. I could see concentration on his face but I could tell that he was experiencing intense pleasure as well. He stroked deep and hard, my juices coating him, our bodies sweating, moving in time. We made love, he made loved to me more intensely, more passionately than I’d ever experienced before in my life.

When he was on the verge of erupting, he flipped me over, he entered me from behind, filling the room with the sounds of our bodies colliding as he made love to me like a man on a mission. My orgasms outnumbered his at this point by about five or six to none and he wasn’t even close to finishing. I grabbed the sheets and met his every thrust. I think I might have passed out from pleasure, or at the very least, I was delirious with satisfaction. Four positions later, I was no longer able to keep track of my orgasms. Finally, he laid his body on mine and, almost imperceptibly, I felt his penis throbbing and pulsating within the warm, wet, velvety walls of my vagina. Our eyes held each other’s gaze, we kissed; we were connected body, mind, and soul. In that moment, I felt his body tense and he arched his back and buried himself deeply inside me. I joined with him, releasing my energy into him as I exploded in what was more than sexual ecstasy, it was spiritual bliss. We had made it to a new place in our relationship, and at last, I had released all the pain and negativity that had kept me from experiencing true and abiding love.

Copyright 2010 Scottie Lowe All Rights Reserved





Monday, October 13, 2008

A Twist of Fate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taja was enjoying the rough treatment. She was aroused by the way this man was using her and she was stimulated by the fact that he didn’t really let her control the action. She got into the blowjob and started trying to give him pleasure like she’d never done to anyone in the past. It was important for her self-esteem to think of herself as an object of desire and she got into sucking and licking like never before. It was the sloppiest, wettest, loudest blowjob she had ever given and even found herself moaning and enjoying it. It was as if she didn’t have to pretend to be reserved anymore, like she had been conditioned to be; she could be a wanton, sexual slut, and that thought sent chills up her normally judgmental and conservative spine. She rationalized that he was forcing her to behave in this whorish manner and she let go of whatever beliefs that told her she was being a bad girl, she wanted to be naughty and, dare she admit it, submissive.

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

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

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

She felt the bed shift as he climbed on with her. His hands began caressing her back gently, massaging her sore arm muscles again. Everything he did, he did with such tenderness and care, and it was at that moment that she first thought that her attacker could actually be her husband.

“Phillip, is that you? Let me go. Stop this, this isn’t funny.”

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

“Count,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again,” he said again calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK