Compartmentalizing

Morality and integrity, really and truly, are figments of my imagination.  They don’t exist.  Everyone has a need to lie, to cheat, everyone has a need to seek out the taboo and the forbidden.  Everyone has a desire, a very much socialized, driving, obsessive imperative, to portray themselves as righteous and without flaw which creates in them a secret drive to behave in ways that are exactly the opposite of what they portray in public.  It creates dysfunction, a mental disconnect.  This need to deny your sexuality in public and pretend to be asexual creates mental illness; it creates people driven by deviance, and it creates a world of liars, cheaters, adulterers who have absolutely no problem condemning and shaming people who get caught doing the exact same behaviors that they possess.  People don’t have a need or drive to do what’s right, we set up people in childhood by teaching them that the names for their privates are bad, we perpetuate the social disorder by calling natural, healthy sexuality “freaky”.  And we display the mental disorder every time we publically shame someone for expressing their sexuality when we have done the same or worse ourselves. 

Are lying and cheating and this compulsive need to behave in ways that are antithetical to what is right, just and good inherent in human beings?  I don’t believe they are.  I think that the social architects, the individuals who DECIDED to convince people that sex and sexuality was bad and wrong engineered this paradigm.  The leaders who set out to control the masses knew on some intrinsic level that once they convinced the world’s population that sex was bad and shameful, that they could control them because the need to have sex in inherent in human beings.  What I don’t think they could have anticipated or predicted is how detrimental it would be to humanity.  I don’t think they could have ever foreseen how perverted and dysfunctional people would become in their need to hide their sexuality. 

The need to deny one’s sexuality, to compartmentalize it and to pretend to be chaste and pure has created pathological liars and people disconnected from reality.   I’ve seen the evidence of this all around me.  I’ve seen it in my mother who had an affair with her current husband for more than a decade, who now, BELIEVES in her heart that she didn’t start dating him until after he was married.  I’ve seen her ridicule and shame other women for the EXACT same things she’s done without even the faintest hint of irnoy.  I’ve seen her alienate and ostracize people from her life who know her secret, not because she consciously is self-aware enough to recognize her behaviors but because she’s so warped and deluded that she needs to pretend she’s saintly and holy and could never do anything that was immoral and her subconscious mind needs to create a world where her reality fits her delusions.  I’ve seen married spouses who cheat and lie get offended when their spouse does the same thing, only difference being they never got caught.  I’ve seen the same people who tell me how offensive and pornographic my website is behave in ways that are exponentially more dysfunctional behind closed doors than anything that could be found on AfroerotiK.  I’ve seen the evidence in my disgusting ex boyfriend who actually believes that his juvenile sexual techniques are so superior that he is able to entice married women to behave in ways that are contrary to their own, supposedly asexual natures.  Only problem is, no one is asexual.  He’s not enticing anyone with his very little dick and his substandard sexual skills.  He’s only boosting his ego by convincing himself that women would never be sexual without his ability to become whoever and whatever his latest conquests want him to be (those skills, I can testify, are exceptional).     I’ve seen the evidence on a daily basis of white men who beg me to do things to them that are so extreme and so deviant yet they walk around and pretend to be the pillars of morality and asexuality in public. 

Discomfort with one’s sexuality creates a mental disconnect, mental illness in fact.  People justify whatever behaviors they have, no matter how unhealthy they are, and then they find a nice little place to hide them away and pretend that they don’t exist.  Look at the Catholic Church.  How much more obvious could it bebthat sexuality is natural and when one shuts off their sexuality, when one denies that their sexuality exists, it manifests itself in pathological behaviors?  It’s the genesis of down low men and women (and TRUST me that there are just as many women lying about their bisexuality as men), it’s the origin of people going out and having unprotected sex without thought for pregnancy or disease.  It’s the reason that my PR agent was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the public wasn’t ready to deal with beautiful, tasteful, sensual images on my website when everyone, absolutely everyone is a sexual being and is looking for sexual stimulation.  She couldn’t wrap her head around the concept that everyone was sexual and committed to hiding it.  She would rather believe, like society has masterfully convinced us, that people are asexual, that no one has sexual desires, that sex is shameful and bad and dirty and that I was somehow going against the grain with my bold declaration that sex is beautiful, natural, and that everyone is sexual.  She believes in her head that only a few deviant, fringe people like sex and that everyone else is offended by the mere mention of the word.  And that’s true to a certain extent.  People do pretend to be offended at the mere mention of the word.  They are also the same people who have bookmarks to some of the most degrading sex sites on the net on their computers.  That mental disconnect is how people who cheat on their spouses can write books on how to get a man or how to be a good spouse without any mental conflict.  They have shut off the part of their brain that allows them to have guilt or shame about their actions.  They have been able to compartmentalize so much so that they don’t even recognize their own detrimental behaviors. 

I am comfortable with my sexuality.  I’m not ashamed of my desires.  I don’t have a need or drive to cheat, to lie, to be with anyone’s husband.  I would rather end the relationship with someone if I’m not happy rather than get to a point where I’m motivated to cheat on them.  I don’t have a need to sell my body to the highest bidder.  I don’t think I’m more valuable if a man with money wants me.  I have unparalleled integrity and I’m not driven to go out and have casual, unprotected sex with strangers because I get horny and don’t know how to stop when things get heated.  I have either released or I have had the good fortune to never possess the dysfunction of the masses.    I never really understood how different I was. 

I sort of feel stupid for not recognizing the facts when the evidence was all around me.  You know who figured it out?  Zane, who writes about cheating and immorality and eroticizes it and people eat it up.  You know why?  Because they not only crave seeing characters act out in ways similar to how behave in private, it’s erotic to them, it adds a thrill for them to do things that are just outside of moral.  The more illicit their behavior behind closed doors, the better.  You know who else figured it out long before me and capitalized on it?  Shonda what’s her name.  It’s a turn on for women to feel like a man who shouldn’t want them openly does.  We’re told that when a couple gets married, that the desire to be with anyone else goes away.  So if a man who is married tells us he loves us, no matter how unhealthy, dysfunctional and morally wrong it is, that represents an extra special thrill to us.  It’s a dangerous metaphor.  Women who have been cheated on liking Scandal is equivalent to a woman who has been raped cheering for the rapist on Law & Order SVU.  But, I’m sure even that happens in the privacy of people’s homes because we are so sexually unhealthy as a nation that we don’t have a concept of what healthy sexuality is.  And, the truth of the matter is, we aren’t going to get healthy any time soon.  

Copyright 2013 Scottie Lowe

Round Midnight

Night time is the right time when those feelings and urges start to surface.  During the day, there are enough distractions and obligations to stay occupied.  On the other side of midnight, the sweet elixir of lust begins to flow freely, creating that dynamic tension, that insatiable need that can only be filled by the release of an earth-shattering orgasm.  She was alone.  More than alone, she was lonely.  Her spirit yearned for connection and intimacy.  Her heart ached to love and be loved.  Her body craved passion, passion of the hot, sweaty, fuck-the-sheets-off-the-bed variety.  Without a partner, however, her options were limited.  Not one to go to a bar for a casual pick-up, and not sufficiently motivated to have a meaningless booty-call or a fuck buddy, her bed was her only companion for the evening.  What does a sexually empowered woman do when she doesn’t have someone to spend time with romantically?  What options does an Afrosensual sista have when there is no companion to satisfy those carnal cravings?  Sometimes, a woman just has to just take matters into her own hands. 

Late at night, with nothing but a red, satin night shirt pulled loosely around her, she began her ritual of self-love.  She was going to make love to herself, fully and completely, just as if she was her own best lover.  Nothing could ever replace the touch of a real lover though, their fingers caressing her body, making her squirm and moan with erotic delight, arousing her passions.  Her full, soft, round breasts needed to be caressed and her nipples had hardened to rock-hard peaks that needed to be pulled, pinched, and twisted.  Her skin was soft and supple, moistened by shea butter, and it glistened in the soft night light.   Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the soft, sensuous lips of her lover softy sucking, licking, and nibbling those peaks of pleasure.  The sensations traveled to her clit and caused her to get even wetter and far more aroused. 

It was the throbbing between her legs that caused her body to thrash about in wild abandon.   The soft petals of her yoni flower blossomed open and its fragrant aroma was intoxicating.    Slowly, her hands slid down the soft expanse of her tummy, moving toward the junction of pleasure that resided between her legs.  She spread the lips of her pussy and her fingers found the spot that would eventually drive her to fits of ecstasy. Stroking her hardened clit with one hand and thrusting the fingers of her other hand past her inner lips and deep inside her sweet spot, she got lost in her ritual of pleasure.  Lips parted, legs spread, her breathing became labored and her moans grew in intensity. 

She wanted to feel her lover’s body on top of hers, crushing her, taking her breath away.  She wanted to taste the salty nape of his neck, feel his hot breath against her skin, hear his profane and erotic confessions of how delirious and light-headed her pussy made him feel.  He was not there.  It was not his steely erection she felt thrusting savagely in and out of her.  She was alone and responsible for her own mounting pleasure, calling her to the pinnacle of release.  Her glasses were fogged and her sexy brown body tossed, turned, and writhed with seething hotness.  She exploded in erotic surrender with her imaginary lover and only her pillow to hold tight.

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved

Made for Me

If I could have a man created specifically for me, with all the things I desire in a partner, I would ask for a man who took my breath away every time I saw him.  He would be tall and brown and beautiful and ooze integrity from every pore in his being.  He would be wise beyond his years and his words would be carefully chosen each time he spoke and they would flow like honey from his lips. 

If I could have a man created specifically for me, he would consider Africa his cultural and spiritual homeland and be willing to shed the belief systems that we have incorporated during slavery for a more holistic way of living.  He would be driven to fulfill his purpose in life and single minded in his dedication to a cause that is righteous and good.  He will meditate every morning and he would pray with me every night.  Of course, he will be able to cry on my shoulder and ask for support because he has come face to face with the demons that have kept men from evolving emotionally and he will have a commitment to redefining himself anew.  He will listen first and then speak, he will not internalize every comment as criticism, and he will apologize when he’s done something wrong. 

My perfect man will live off of a plant based diet, practice a spiritual system other than Christianity, and he will be openly bisexual.  He will have been in an intimate relationship with another man and loved him.  He will be comfortable with his sexuality not being tied to ridiculous roles that define him.  He will be a patient and attentive lover who will be willing to please and pamper me with the knowledge that I will only return the favor tenfold. 

He would never be intimidated by my intellect, potential, or my activism and he would support me and my efforts with words of encouragement and praise.  He would put other’s needs above his wants and we will travel the world in search of truth.  He will know the first and third verses of the Negro National Anthem and he will stand up when it’s being sung without being told.  He will never use the word nigger, nigga, or any phonetic or derivative spelling thereof out of reverence and respect for our ancestors. 

I want my perfect man to be equal parts creative and intelligent, equal parts spiritual and carnal.  Make him open-minded, tolerant of people’s differences, and as far left as he can get politically without falling off the scale and ending up in jail at Guantanmo Bay.  I want him to be an avid reader and lover of jazz, art, real theater (not Medea plays) and capable of articulating why the current brand of hip-hop is misogynist and offensive to not only women but to men as well. 

His commitment to our relationship will be beyond compare.  My perfect man would prioritize and sacrifice in order for us to continually grow.  Ahh, my perfect lover would hold me in his arms at night and kiss my forehead and whisper, “I love you, Scottie” and make me feel as if everything was right with the world. 

Submissive White Men

It’s a topic so important that we have to do a follow up.  On our last show, we talked about the dynamics of individuals who are aroused by being called racial epithets during their intimate moments with partners of other races.  The last half hour of the show was dedicated to submissive white males and their agendas.  There just wasn’t enough time to go into the multi-layers of this HUGE phenomenon so we’re going to dedicate an entire show to peeling off the layers and exposing this trend, where it comes from, and what it all means.

On this show, we are going to be exploring the different types of submissive white men, what it  means to Blacks in a racist society to have so many white men sexually submissive, what impact does this trend have on our culture, why this trend has remained so hidden in plain sight, and we will hear from the mouths of submissive white men and Black dominants who will tell all their secrets.  Join us for this fascinating conversation that will surely open your eyes and make you rethink everything you know. 

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I Love

I have an unnatural addiction to all things vanilla. That’s not a metaphor for white men, I just love the flavoring.  I love vanilla scented candles, Good Hope Vanilla Tea, smelling vanilla extract straight from the bottle, I love vanilla. I love to juice mangoes and pineapple in the summer and drink it for breakfast it on my balcony. I love salads with avocado and black olives and home grown, organic tomatoes. I love salsa music with a passion and a dance partner who is taller than me when I’m in heels.  I love going to a jazz club and sitting so close to the bass that I can feel the vibrations in my chest. I love cuddling on the sofa, spooning in bed, finding that perfect place on my lover's chest where I just fit, and waking up with him aroused and rubbing on my butt.  I love listening to the piano being played solo, the first day of spring when I can wear sandals outside, the look of my feet in high heels with clear polish on my toes, taking a hot bath and feeling my body temperature rise, rubbing my head after I just got my hair cut, sucking on a newborn baby’s perfect little toes, herbal tea with honey, pumpkin seed chili, and pear cobbler from Lush Life Café. I love when I sweat and it's that slippery kind of sweat.  I love my grandfather.  I love that he was a civil rights leader and taught me the importance of having integrity. I love that my grandmother gave me the love my mother never could.  I love that I have had the opportunity to help two wonderful loved ones transition peacefully.  I love raspberries, blueberries, cherries, and really juicy peaches and plums. I love the fact that I'm not average. I love organic gardening and making fresh pesto sauce from basil I grew on my porch. I love blasting Lewis Taylor in the car over and over again and singing it at the top of my lungs.  I love being in love and spoiling my partner and knowing that he appreciates it.  I love Cafe 290 on Sunday nights and a decadent picnic basket with gourmet foods. I love throwing dinner parties for friends and using my cloth napkins. I love all my ex's for teaching me how to love and making me a better woman.   I love Law & Order marathons when every episode has Jesse L. Martin, HGTV, documentaries about Black history, and Alvin Aliey’s Revelations make me cry every time I see it.  I adore making love to men with the same skin color as me, when I don’t know where he begins and I end.  I love writing a story and seeing the words come alive on the paper and realizing that I gave birth to transformative words.  I love playing games online that stimulate my brain and learning the words to amazing songs in different languages I don’t speak.  I love having my nipples sucked softly like a baby and the art of Woodrow Nash.  I love drinking coffee with amaretto creamer at night before I go to bed.  I love egg custard snow cones, unagi, learning things most people don’t know, women with thick, wooly, nappy afros and smooth dark skin.  I love late night phone sex with men with poetic hearts and radical minds.  I love the feeling of finishing a creative project, writing in my journal, chilled white wine, bone china, crisp, freshly laundered sheets, smoked salmon, making love in the candlelight, talking dirty during sex, white chocolate, dark chocolate, Stevie Wonder, I love telling people that Earth, Wing & Fire's September was written just for me because my birthday is the 21st night of September.  I love Ledisi's Feeling Orange CD even though it costs an arm and a leg and is more rare than a split atom, musicals from the 60s and 70s, and meditation.  I love conversation with deeply cerebral individuals who appreciate me for me and not my aesthetics and who don't judge me for my politics.  I love when people tell me that something that I've written has helped them, healed them, moved them, aroused them, or given them a new way to think about things.  I love wearing dresses and going out to dinner and knowing that I'm going to go home and make incredible, passionate, sensual, AfroerotiK love.

A Question for Black Women about Submissive White Men

I have been writing erotica for almost 10 years now.  What started out as outlet for my sexuality that I couldn’t find represented in the then current offerings of porn/erotica quickly developed into a study of human sexuality and an opportunity for me to share the gospel of truth as I see it with my written word.  The more I wrote, the more I shared my writing, the more people would open up to me about their fantasies.  The more they opened up, the more I saw common themes and desires in certain groups of people.  It didn’t take very long in fact for me to figure out that white men were CRAVING domination from Black men and women alike in outrageous numbers.   

In fact, the most searched, read, and sought out essay I’ve ever written is the one I wrote years ago about White Male Submission.  In the years since that piece was written, white male submission has become more widespread in fantasy, but the outlets for it are still very limited.  Most porn sites dedicated to Black Female Domination are owned and operated by individual Black females themselves, not big corporate conglomerates understanding the niche and trying to capitalize off it.  Conversely, if you did an internet search for sites dedicated to white women submitting (whether overtly or subtly) to Black men, you could spend the rest of your natural born life clicking on websites and never see them all. 

White men, still by and large, often individually feel like they are the only white man in the world with desires to submit to Black sexuality.  The media covers their obsessive need to molest children and even made a weekly television program showing how pervasive the trend is but I’ve yet to see any mainstream media coverage of the scores, the hoards, the multitudes of white men who are sucking black dick, who are longing to be spanked, beaten, pissed on, and used by Dominant Black women.  I recently did a search for images of Black couples dominating a white male and I couldn’t find any.  Not any.  In the year 2011, when you can readily find pictures of anime midgets engaged in underwater bestiality or anything that one’s perverted mind can imagine, it was virtually impossible to find an image of a white male being dominated by a black couple. 

My question is this.  I’ve seen the number or submissive white men over the years multiply exponentially.  What I’d like to know is, are the numbers of Black women who find the idea of dominating a white male increasing as well?  I know there are a number of Black women who have dabbled and experimented in financial domination but I suspect they have tired of that very quickly because white men are masterful at stringing women along, using money as a tool to control and dictate their whims, never really following through on their promises of giving money but using it as the proverbial carrot to manipulate Black women into fulfilling their fantasies as they see fit.  Are there more and more Black women who are truly recognizing their power, are they exploring their sexual selves and finding that it can in fact be pleasurable to dominate and control someone, especially a white male?  Are Black women feeling a need to dominate on par with the white male’s need to submit? 

I’d love for some honest feedback.  Are the numbers of Black women in kink, in the D/s world staying pretty stagnant for the most part or is there an emergence of dominant Black women that has gone under the radar because no one wants to discuss, explore, or acknowledge that white men desire to be dominated by Black men/women?  Ladies, share your experiences and your fantasies.  If you find the concept arousing, speak up, don’t remain silent. Share.  If you’ve tried it and you didn’t like it, can’t be bothered anymore, I’d love to know that as well.