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 masturbation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label masturbation. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 12, 2021

White men are Pathetic!

It's been a while since I recorded an audio.  This one is outstanding.  Sit back, relax, and stroke away as you listen to my sweet, sensual voice tell you what a fucking loser you are.  


It's 22 minutes long.  


It's only $20.  


Cashapp $ScottieLowe

PayPal afroerotik@gmail.com


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Sample text:


White men have little flat asses, diseased looking skin, pathetic cocks, white men have lips only a snake would want to kiss and they have defective sperm, only reproducing deviants and monsters, or worse, average, boring, plain, typical losers.  White men habitually crave being used like toilets, beaten like slaves, whipped until their pale flesh is blue and read and green with bruises, welts bleeding, flesh ripped.  Pain is pleasure to white men.  White men desire being fucked savagely and brutally like little bitches, over and over, potent sperm dripping from their gaped ass cunts, their vocal cords sore from their faces being fucked like a real pussy.  


Saturday, June 22, 2013

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

Saturday, January 29, 2011

I Want a Lover with a Slow Hand



Life is always giving us opportunities to grow and evolve, right?  Ever the introspective one, I’m always attempting to look within, challenge my beliefs systems, and heal my wounds by being radically honest and self-aware.  I had the opportunity recently to connect intimately with a potential partner.  For several reasons, I decided that it was going to be several months before we had sex.  Of course, there were times when I was hot and bothered and I rationalized how several weeks rather than months would be sufficient for our self-imposed abstinence.  Of course, at times, I was so incredibly aroused I was willing to say, “To hell with weeks, days, hours, or minutes, I need you inside me NOW!”  Calmer heads prevailed and we didn’t have sex.  I’m fortunate that we didn’t because I subsequently learned that he was not anywhere near the quality and caliber of man that I was looking for in a partner and sex would have not only made me more intimately bonded to him, it also would have made it virtually impossible (or, more accurately, extremely difficult) for me to break that bond when he revealed his true, disingenuous colors.  In our erotic exploration, however, I learned a few things about myself and my erotic needs.  

I have a clear vision of what I want, crave, and need from a lover.  AfroerotiK is not just my company, my brand, a vehicle for my writing, it is my philosophy.  AfroerotiK is how I live my life.  My lover, the man who will ultimately get to share my body in ways that few will ever tastes the pleasures of, is someone who does not feel the need to degrade me during sex.  While I understand clearly that the prevalence of porn and women who have been socialized to be objects creates an almost understated forgone conclusion that women will want to be called a bitch, whore, and a slut during sex, that we will want to be pounded, slapped, and made to suck dick, gag, and willingly accept cum on our faces or down our throats and enjoy it, there are some of us, at the very least I am absolutely NOT aroused by or interested in any such treatment.  That doesn’t mean that I need slow and gentle lovemaking with candles burning and Teddy Pendergrass playing every time in the background.  I just need the simple acknowledgment that he understands that my body is a gift to him and that I don’t feel any arousal at being objectified, used, or humiliated.  I love getting fucked.  In fact, I adore the concept of my lover being so incredibly aroused that he is driven to fits of almost maniacal lust inside me.  My lover will not need to spank, slap, restrain or call me names during sex.  That means that I want him to see me as the special, unique, and wonderful woman I am.  I cannot and will not tolerate being called names in the heat of passion in order to appease a male ego that needs to degrade women in order to feel arousal.  

I desire a lover who understands well that intimacy, sensuality, and passion are intricately tied to lovemaking and that sex is an expression of spiritual and emotional communion and love as well as lust and desire.  I need a lover who understands that making love is not just fucking slow.   He will understand that the more time he takes to get me wet the more I will be willing to show my passion for him in virtually unspeakable and unthinkable ways.   He will be willing to take his time to learn my body.  And by take his time, I don’t mean 30 minutes of foreplay and dirty talk, I mean weeks if need be to understand what buttons to push to make me soak the sheets and wake the neighbors.  I need a lover who will slowly, sensually, caress every square inch of my body in an effort to provide me with pleasure, not just a perfunctory, half-hearted massage that barely masks his thinly-veiled attempts to get to get directly to my pussy.  The man who understands that my asshole needs slow, tender gentle attention in order to get to the fast, furious earth-shattering fucking that will come when he takes his time.  I am not the first woman you fucked when you were 16 years old and what she liked is surely not what I will like.  I need someone who can understand that my body is sensitive in ways that most other women’s is not and that biting, pinching and grabbing will not get me anywhere near the place where I’m begging to have a man inside me.  Quite a few men would do well to learn how to give a good massage, not trying to squeeze and knead out tension like a sports therapist but to play my body like an instrument, coaxing it to arousal with soft caresses.   

One of the traits that is essential for me in a man is his ability to control his lusts.  If a man feels he must masturbate every day, look at porn every single day, then it’s apparent to me that he can only see sex as a physical outlet and that I am nothing more than a receptacle for his sperm, a masturbatory aide.  Masturbation is healthy, it feels good, it’s a much needed release.  Being unable to go a week or even two weeks without ejaculation is a sign of sexual immaturity and dysfunction.  Yes, I fully understand that men tend to have higher sex drives than women and I’m almost sure I understand that what they feel is vastly different to the sensations I feel when I orgasm.  That being said, however, a sexually mature individual is someone who can appreciate delayed gratification.  I’m sure there are lots of men who are offended by the concept of me suggesting that their daily masturbation is somehow wrong.  For them, perhaps it is not.  For my potential lover however, it most certainly is.  A man who is driven by his need to cum is a man who will lie, cheat, and manipulate in order to get sex.  That man has absolutely NO chance of ever experiencing my body.  I might add that there are some men who say that they never masturbate.  I think I am to understand that they say that masturbation doesn’t feel as good as the real thing, that it’s not manly, or there is some biblical reason to abstain from self pleasure.  Those are the very same men who will fuck anyone without standard or discrimination in order to get off.  Needless to say, those men are not the men who will gain access to my sacred space either.  Balance and maturity are the keys to my treasure.  

My AfroerotiK lover is one who will use his lips, tongue, and mouth gently to explore every inch of my body.  He will be willing to take the time to bathe my body, anoint me with oils and lotions, lick my pussy softly and sensually until I’m creaming in his mouth and begging for him to penetrate me.  He will use his dick, not as a weapon to stab but as an vehicle of pleasure to drive me to fits of pleasure, orgasm, and ecstasy over and over and over again.  

Copyright 2011 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved