A Special Connection

This is a repost of a story I wrote a long time ago. I'm not usually aroused by my own stories but there's something so taboo about this story that it makes me feel deliciously dirty.

Special Connection

Noah had struggled all of his life with issues of abandonment. That was a pretty standard condition for people who had been adopted but he had made sincere efforts to address his concerns and unpack his baggage. He hadn't managed to establish a healthy, long-term relationship in his 30 years of life but he was ever hopeful.

The first and most important step in that journey toward wholeness was finding his birth mother. It was a relatively easy process; she’d only lived less than two hours away for his entire life. She had been looking for him just as he had been looking for her so it was a matter of signing the appropriate papers and waiting for the red tape to be cut by adoption agency personnel. Their reunion had been awkward and rather uneventful. They decided it would be best if they chose to meet their first time at her home to avoid any emotional outbursts at The Olive Garden or some such place. Noah's heart was in his chest as he made his way to her front door. There were still lots of unanswered questions and unresolved issues when the initial meeting was all said and done but Noah and Andrea were well on their way to establishing a healthy relationship and a good friendship. Certainly, the rapport was there without much effort. The age difference was minimal and Noah was awed at how at ease he felt with his birth mother and at their similarities. Finding her had been one of the best things he'd ever done in his adult life, a step that would lead to closure for a lot of emotional triggers in his life that left him distancing himself from women.

As is the case with most busy singles, Noah resorted to the Internet to aid in finding love. It was as a viable an option as any other in this day and age and he opted to use paid sites to weed out the insincere and the fake. There were very few sites like that that catered specifically to African Americans so he'd search to the top three dating sites to cast a wide net. The $100 or so investment was well worth it if he could find his dream lady. He was pretty aggressive in his search He had a list of criteria that was pretty extensive and there wasn't much room for deviation. She had to be a woman of color, intelligent, articulate, spiritual, affectionate, and exude sex appeal. The other things were intangibles that would amount to chemistry and connection upon meeting.

Within 100 miles of San Francisco was a decent distance to travel to find his one true love. As with many search options on dating sites, he had to expand some of his criteria in order to get a fair sampling of profiles returned. Always having an attraction for older women and having exhausted profiles that were in his distance range, he expanded his age range to get a better selection of profiles. Satisfied that 80 profiles would be enough to explore for the evening, he settled in to go over them with a fine tooth comb. He had limited his search to profiles with pictures to prevent any time spent getting to know someone that he wasn't physically attracted to and to save time for all involved.
He hadn't clicked on more than three or four profiles when fate would alter his reality forever. "Degreed Blk Fem sks intimacy, communication, and passion," read the headline. Noah shook his head in disbelief and stared at the screen for a few minutes in a daze. There was no mistake about it, no way to misconstrue that the profile belonged to Andrea, his birth mother. He felt like he was invading her privacy and he closed the profile and moved on. Distracted and shaken, he returned to her profile again, this time to explore every detail.

First, he looked at all the photos. The album held five photos, all tasteful, all showing facets of a very beautiful woman. Noah told himself that the man that got his mother as a partner would be a damn lucky man because there was no way to deny, even at 46, she was a breathtaking beauty that looked more than 10 years younger than her age. Her delicious honey colored complexion was flawless and Noah marveled at the pictures, seeing his own complexion reflected in the womanly curves lady that gave birth to him. He made note of the fact that none of the photos were vulgar but yet they all oozed sensuality. She showed subtle flashes of leg, a rounded bare shoulder, even a sweet, casual shot that wasn't glamorous at all but still showed off her natural beauty. He wondered to himself what his reaction would have been had she had a nude photo of herself among her collection. Noah rated her photos an A plus and went on to explore her profile more.

There was something a little uneasy for Noah to deal with and it was the activity in his pants. He shook his head and made a conscious effort to focus on the computer screen and deny the fact that he had an erection had to do with a taboo that was almost too unthinkable to comprehend. He adjusted himself and kept on, obsessed with finding out anything and everything he could about this mysterious woman to whom he was more connected than any other person on the planet but he knew so little about. Even as he scrolled down the profile, he rationalized that there was probably some genetic DNA predisposition that was responsible for the fact that all the traits he sought in a woman, his mother possessed.

When he got to the essay portion of the profile he swallowed hard and began reading. She articulately described herself and exactly what she was looking for in a man in detail. She wrote, "I'm an accomplished, successful woman who is at a crossroads. I need companionship and friendship with a partner that can allow me to explore my new-found sexual liberation. Understand that I'm not looking for someone to romance me and sweep me off my feet with little or no substance. I need a man that can be open, a good listener, honest, available and accountable. Once you've shown me that you are worthy of my heart, I'm looking to share my body with you in ways you probably can't imagine. There aren't many men that meet my standards and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to share a side of me that needs more exploration and expression. Younger men are more than welcome to apply because I need a man that can keep up with my rather insatiable appetites."

By the time he finished reading, his dick was in his hand and he was stroking it furiously. Her unapologetic yet sophisticated call for a lover to rock her world yet be more than a fuck toy, to actually be a man committed to the person not just the just package it came in, was arousing on so many levels he could barely control himself. He jerked his hardness, reading the words over and over again. He tried to imagine the unimaginable promises of pleasure Andrea had alluded to. He called her name as he envisioned her satisfying herself in the absence of a man on the very couch they had shared tea when they met. He imagined her sexy breasts glistening with sweat as he pounded her while she dug her nails into his back and screamed for more. His cum erupted as he thought about it being deposited in the very womb that nurtured him for nine months.

He awoke in the morning, hoping it had all been a nightmare. Before his eyes were completely open, he sat in front of his computer screen and pulled the bookmarked profile up again. He noticed that her last visit to the site was within the last 24 hours and he panicked. What if she were to find his profile in the same way? He immediately made his profile invisible to other viewers and went back to her profile again. He pulled his semi erect dick out and picked up the phone. He placed the call without even having a game plan in mind. All he knew was he had to see her and soon.

They chatted and caught up in the uncomfortable way that only adoptive mother and son are prone to do. "Listen, I don't know if you are into this sort of thing but I was hoping you might want to join me next Saturday and go to the Crocker Art Museum. I've exhausted all the museums in the Bay area and I couldn't think of coming to Sacramento without seeing if you would like to join me . . . If you are into that sort of thing," he said, knowing full well that she was. He played on her emotions by adding, "It would make me so happy to be able to share what I love the most with the most special woman in the world to me," his comment had many more layers and implications than Andrea could comprehend.

Andrea, wanting to be open to any hand of civility her son extended to her, accepted before he could finish his little speech but Noah hadn't heard her. She let him finish and repeated her answer, adding that she was flattered that he would ask her and how grateful she was that he didn't hate her. There was a long moment of silence on the phone as the two dealt with their own adoptive demons.

They made plans for him to come there and pick her up next weekend and she even invited him to spend the night in her spare bedroom if it got too late to drive back. Noah hung up the phone and shot off another load within seconds of doing so. What had he just done? More importantly, what was he going to do? He hadn't even planned it out thoroughly; he was going on pure adrenaline and lust.

Over the course of the next few days, Noah tried desperately to purge himself of sexual thoughts of Andrea. He rationalized that most teenage boys had at least a masturbatory fantasy or two about their mothers. It had to be some sort on rite of passage or some natural occurrence in nature, he was just going through his later in life, and it would certainly pass. All week long he would read her profile over and over again, at work, at home; he had even printed it out and memorized every detail, justifying it as a way to get to know this very intimate stranger.

The drive to Sacramento seemed to take forever. He turned up his music loudly and he and Tupac lamented over the trials and tribulations of being a black man in a society that wanted to keep them oppressed. He tried to ignore the constant dull ache in his nuts and half hard dick he would get occasionally but the closer he got to her house, the more he let himself fantasize about being the man Andrea called her man. Hell, except for that pesky little fact that she had given birth to him; he was exactly what she was looking for and vice versa. They shared the same likes and dislikes, predilections and preferences, and they were both in need of the same type of relationship.

He knocked on the door but he hadn't prepared for what he saw when it opened. Andrea was dressed in a sexy black dress with thin spaghetti straps and a low cut v-neck that showed off just the right amount of cleavage. The dress hugged her toned, athletic body perfectly. She wore a pair of sexy, stiletto heels that showed off the blood red nail polish that accentuated her perfectly pedicured toes.

Noah stood speechless for a moment unable to speak. Andrea, sensing some tension, panicked and said, "Oh, I'm overdressed aren't I? I have been trying to figure out what to wear for an hour. I'll go change." With that, she turned towards her bedroom. Noah grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"No, what you are wearing is fine, you look beautiful." The heat of her hand in his burned his flesh as he felt himself becoming completely erect.

"I really do appreciate you offering to take an old woman like me to the museum today. I'm appreciative of any time I can get to spend with my favorite boy," as she patted his cheek gently. Noah's heart did a back flip, hearing words that gave him more comfort than he'd ever known before. "Well, let me go get my wrap and we'll be off. Does that sound okay?" Noah nodded in silence and tried to adjust himself so that his throbbing erection couldn't be seen as she walked away.

The two made a striking couple. There was no way in hell anyone could tell that they were mother and son, Andrea only looking four or five years older than Noah at the most. Granted she was just barely 16 years older but Noah had dated women that had looked and been older than she in his lifetime. He held the door for her as she got in and out of his truck; he held her by the small of her back as they strolled among the artwork. They started to let their guards down and they seemed more at ease with each other than one would imagine. Their tastes in artwork were similar and they shared more information about each other in an effort to catch up on lost time. They both liked the same movies, they both had a love of travel and had been to some of the same places and had even stayed in the same hotel in Paris, twenty years apart. Noah could not stop looking at Andrea and he was more and more curious about the sexual beast that lurked inside her that she alluded to in her profile.

They stopped strolling around and sat on the bench and were deep in conversation. Noah had placed his arm around her shoulder and Andrea had responded by turning her body completely towards him and resting her hand on his thigh. Another black couple, obviously deeply in love, strolled by hand in hand. The woman made eye contact with Andrea and gave the universal sista look of, "Go ahead, Stella, do your thing." The couple stopped and the woman turned back and said, "Isn't love wonderful? You two look beautiful together.

Both Andrea and Noah panicked and pulled away from each other. They both mumbled thank you and awkwardly stood to leave. The couple apologized for interrupting, aware that they had caused some sort of disruption in the flow of things and went on about their business.

"I think it's time to go, we've seen all we can see here." Andrea held her eyes to the floor and had lost some of the joy in her voice.

Noah, not ready to end the evening, tried his best to salvage the chemistry that had been interrupted. "Andrea, you are a vibrant and beautiful lady. I'm sure that's not the last time someone will mistake you for my date. Listen, it's still early, what do you say that I take my favorite lady out for dinner?" They both smiled and got a little teary and took a deep breath at the same time.

Andrea smiled and sunk back into the level of comfort and ease that they had shared before the interruption. The place she chose for dinner was a small, intimate restaurant that was perfect for lovers. For a brief second, Noah allowed himself to contemplate that the sexual attraction he felt for Andrea might be reciprocal. He held her chair out and took her wrap. He "accidentally" caressed her smooth shoulders, or at least he hoped that it had seemed accidental. Once seated he quickly placed the napkin in his lap to hide the protruding appendage that threatened to betray his deepest desires.

Noah ordered a bottle of wine rather than a glass, hoping that the beverage would loosen both their inhibitions and lead to a more intimate connection. The waiter, also assuming they were lovers, or soon to be lovers, poured on the charm and suggested the most romantic dining suggestions, finger foods for appetizers that could be fed to one another, entrées that could be shared, and decadent desserts. After the first glass of wine, Andrea had relaxed sufficiently to let her guard down and she was becoming openly flirtatious with Noah. Noah didn't miss a beat and started going into full mack mode. He was versed in how to make a woman feel like the center of the universe and he was pulling out all the stops. They conversed freely about music and art and politics and eventually the conversation got around to dating. Andrea listened intently as Noah confessed with bitter honesty his adulterous, playboy past and his longing and desire to connect to "the one" and how she had remained so elusive in his life. Andrea was tortured with guilt at being the reason Noah felt so alone in his life and she reached out to embrace him in her arms.

Noah felt her touch and sunk gently into it from an emotional level. He had craved that sensation, that feeling of safety and comfort that only a mother's loving embrace could provide. If only the woman providing that sensation wasn't biologically linked to him he would be in heaven. Andrea, feeling the need to open up, shared the secrets of her emotional past as well. She spoke about looking for love and how she had come up short time and time again. She revealed that she was looking for a person to stimulate her mind and spirit first and that would be the impetus to transcendental love-making. The wine had loosened her inhibitions and she was having a conversation that she normally would have thought was a tad inappropriate. She placed her hand on Noah's lap, dangerously close to his dick and kept on with her revelations, perhaps oblivious because of the slight buzz she was feeling. Andrea could no longer deny the attraction and she downed another glass of wine and relegated herself to the fact that she was involved in a dance of seduction that had horrific implications. Her body was betraying her mind. Her nipples protruded brazenly from her dress and her clit was throbbing to the point of distraction. She excused herself to go to the ladies room and wipe away some of the moisture that had collected between her legs lest he smell her arousal at the table.

When she returned, Noah had paid the bill and was holding her wrap for her. They made the trip back to her home in virtual silence, not daring to speak, both afraid of what was happening. He pulled into the driveway of her home and came around to open the door for her. She gently placed her hand in his as she stepped down and they both stood inches apart from one another, the electricity between them could light up a stadium it was so strong. She tried to say something about, "thank you for a wonderful day," and her words were cut off with a passionate kiss that took her breath away. Noah had lost his resolve to keep his fantasy to himself and he kissed the woman that was the focus of all of his desire. He pulled her body to his tightly and ran his hands over her ass. He thrust his dick against her body and started grinding on her. She responded in kind, holding his face in her soft hands and sucking his tongue sensuously, wrapping her arms around his neck. He picked her up and placed her back on the seat of his truck and she wrapped her legs around him as he began to slide his hands up the smooth skin of her thigh. They kissed more passionately this time.

"No, stop, we can't do this!" Andrea grabbed his hand and stopped him.

Feeling profound shame, Noah backed off and started to hyperventilate. Had he destroyed the relationship he had only just started with his birth mother? He started to mumble an apology when Andrea stopped him. "We can't do this here. Let's go inside."

She grabbed him by the hand and tilted his face to hers. She looked him in the eyes as they kissed again. She held his hand as they made their way to the front door. Once inside, she kept the lights off and felt Noah's presence behind her. He pulled her wrap from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He caressed her bare shoulder and kissed it softly. She leaned back into him and rubbed her ass sensuously against his dick. Gentle moans escaped her lips as his hands roamed freely over her sides, gripping her hips tightly.

"God, I want this, I want you." Noah was in a fog of lust. Everything about the woman before him was what he had been searching for. He felt driven to experience all that she had to offer, not just sexually but emotionally as well. He wanted his Mommy to love him, in every way possible.

Andrea turned to face Noah and she kissed him with more passion than she had thought possible just a few hours earlier. She was driven by this insane lust of the taboo and the fact that she had an attraction to a man that she had carried inside her for nine months. She reached for his crotch and felt the evidence of his lust for her. She kissed and nibbled on his neck and whispered in his ear that they should make it to the bedroom to get more comfortable.

For a brief second, things were awkward again. Andrea made her way around the bedroom and lit candles while Noah stood and watched. He wondered if he shouldn't just stop things where they were and go home; perhaps they could pretend that none of this ever happened. Ignorance is bliss so they say. The precum dripping from the head of his dick was motivation enough for him to erase all those sorts of thoughts from his mind.

Andrea stood before him and lowered the straps to her dress. She stood in her high heels and a pair of black satin panties and Noah had to swallow hard to keep from slamming her hard on the bed and taking her without any foreplay at all. He wanted her to exploit his fantasies; to highlight his fantasies of being a little boy that Mommy was teaching how to be naughty. He had engaged in role-play like that many times before with other women in similar ways but this was about to take on whole new dimensions. He wondered if pushing the issue would cause her to panic and back out of the situation so he kept his silence.

There was little reason to do so. Andrea was like a woman possessed, loving every aspect of the mother/son incest and she was tipsy enough to let go of whatever inhibitions she might have had. She lay back on the bed and spread her legs. She rubbed her pussy through the thin material and slid her hands inside to put on a show for Noah. She told him to get undressed and she fingered herself while he revealed the perfect sculpted body of a man half her age. He stepped out of his boxer briefs and she started fucking herself that much harder, sliding her panties down to get better access and to show off her aroused and shaved cunt to her sweet baby boy.

Without saying a word, Noah climbed on top of Andrea and started kissing her passionately. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and explored his mouth with passion. She could feel his erection sliding between her legs as his mouth explored her neck and she was moaning very loudly. Noah could feel the softness of her breasts crushed against him and the hardness of her nipples pressed against his chest. There was no mistaking the fact that his dick was rubbing the wet slit of her pussy and he could feel her aroused clit rubbing on the length of his hardness. The heat emanating from her core was like a furnace and she was becoming more and more vocal as things got more and more heated.

"Oh, your dick is so big," she moaned and she reached for it to put her delicate hands around it and stroke it.

Noah almost came right then and right there. It felt so good that he needed to think about Stock Market futures in order to keep from losing his nut. He began kissing his way down her body to the place that was the single focus of his desire, her breasts. He looked Andrea deeply in her eyes as he lowered his mouth to her hardened nipple. There was a soundtrack of ooohh's, and ahhhh's and mmmm's as he began sucking her titties. The softness of her boobs was pleasure untold for Noah and when she grabbed his head and said, "Oh you make Mommy feel so good," he almost lost it.

In a voice that didn't sound like his own and was decidedly adolescent, Noah said, "Does Mommy like when I suck on her titties like that?"

Andrea, fully into the forbidden lovemaking, responded knowing full well where this was going to go. "Yes, sweetie, Mommy loves when you suck on my hard nipples like that. Drink Mommy's milk baby, my titties are so swollen and full. Do you like when Mommy feeds you like that?"

Noah was outside of himself. He was in a realm of arousal he'd never experienced before. "Yes, Mommy, I love sucking your titties. I love doing anything that makes you feel good Mommy. I just want to make you happy."

Andrea cradled Noah's head and reinforced that Noah was a very good boy for making his Mommy feel good. His mouth went from nipple to nipple and Andrea's moans got louder and louder. She was chanting, "Oh yeah, suck my titties baby, drink mama's milk, oh, fuck that feels so good."

"Mama, you said a bad word!" Noah could barely believe how easily his role as pubescent boy came in the arms of the woman that gave birth to him.

"Yes, sweetie, it's okay. Grownups are allowed to say bad words when they have their clothes off like this. It makes it feel better."

"Mommy, can I say those words too? Am I a big boy Mama?"

"What words do you know, sweetie? Who taught you those naughty words?"

"At school, some of the boys say, you know, stuff. And one time I. . ." His voice trailed off.

"What is it dear? You can tell Mommy, I promise I won't be mad." Andrea stroked his hair and soothed his pretend fears.

"One time I watched you and Daddy playing when you were naked and lying down. He said a lot of naughty words." His eyes got big like he was telling a secret, fully aware that they hadn't even discussed who his biological father had been up until that point, just getting off on the nasty fantasy.

By this time, Andrea was holding her breasts up for Noah and making him suck them harder and harder, thrashing around on the bed and consumed with the fantasy of sexing up her adolescent son when it was in fact her thirty something son. It was the fulfillment of her dirtiest desires, desires she hadn't really contemplated as real because she never thought of finding her son, she had assumed she would go her entire life with no knowledge of what happened to him, how he turned out. Until that day in her life, she felt relatively safe that her mother/son fantasies were harmless fun between her and her very adult lovers.

"Mommy, I feel funny . . . down there." Noah pointed to the erection that was leaking and he grabbed its full length like only he knew how to do and forced out more precum. There was no way his enormous prick could be mistaken for a child's.

"It's okay, sweetie, you can use the grown up word for it. Mommy likes when you use the dirty words." Andrea was so turned on, more than she had ever been before in her life and it scared her a little to think of how far she would go in her lust.

Noah said, "Oh Mama, my dick is sooo hard. Do you like my big dick?"

Andrea reached between his legs and felt the hefty organ that was engorged with blood. "By all means, Mommy loves your big, hard dick. It makes Mommy's pussy really wet. Mommy wants to suck that big, fat dick. Come here and let me put it in my mouth."

"Oh Mommy! Are you sure?"

Noah rolled over and lay back on the bed. Andrea wasted no time in getting between his legs and giving him head like he'd literally never had before in his life. She grabbed his erection and started stroking it, making it leak more precum. She licked the salty treat and told him how good he tasted. She took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it and Noah could barely control himself. She went down on it slowly, licking and sucking with painstaking precision. She was getting every inch wet with her mouth and tongue and sucking it expertly with her lips. She swallowed the entire shaft and Noah made a sound that he'd never heard before. Andrea was moaning and slobbering all over his dick like a dick-craved whore and fingering her pussy at the same time. Noah, with the awareness of a grown man, grabbed her and made her stop because he knew all too well that a few more minutes of exceptional head like that would make him shoot his load and he definitely wanted to wait.

Andrea wanted more. She wanted to taste her son's cum and she wasn't ready to stop. She was looking him in his eyes and asking him if he liked it. Noah was out of his mind; it was sensory overload. She focused on sucking the engorged vein on the underside of his dick and it allowed him to calm down enough to regain normal control of his breathing. The room was spinning and it felt like it was 100 degrees in there. She started humming on his dick, sending vibrations up his spine and talking dirty. It was the wanton slut of his dreams, intelligent, sophisticated, beautiful, sexy and desperate for cum.

"You like Mommy's mouth on your hard dick? Use those nasty words you know, treat Mommy like a filthy whore, it makes mommy feel good when you say nasty things to her like a big boy."

Noah was ready to explode and they went past the stage of pretending, it was a real mother who got off on giving her son nasty pleasure and a son who desperately wanted to fuck his mother. He grabbed her head and started moving it up and down on his dick, fucking her throat. Andrea didn't miss a beat and she gagged a little but it only seemed to inspire her to be that much nastier. It seemed she couldn't get it wicked enough, she was in a zone where she wanted to be nasty, with her flesh and blood baby boy. She was deep throating him and stroking him and licking his balls. The raunchier she got, the more she needed verbal stimulation.

"Lick my dick real good and get it nice and wet so I can ram it in your wet pussy. Yeah, your little boy is going to fuck you senseless. Is that what you want? You want your son to ram his big hard dick in you so hard you scream like it's going to rip you apart? "
Andrea wasn't satisfied, she wanted more and she wasn't afraid to go for it. She was inspired by the fact that she had crossed a line that was so forbidden, so taboo, that she had never been so turned on in her life. She was in a sexual fog, a lust inspired by this incredibly sexy man that she was with and knowing that she had birthed him through the pussy that was now soaking wet and screaming for him to fuck her. "No, I want more."
This was going too far for both of them. It was unexplored territory and they were both on a sex high that was like no place they had ever gone; only dreamt about. It was pure, unbridled, uninhibited sex with someone that you trust completely. Granted, there's was a trust that defied rational thought. They were linked genetically but they hadn't known each other more than 12 hours total. Noah sat up and forcefully flipped Andrea on her back. He climbed on top of her and kissed her deeply. "Now, it's my turn. I'm going to make you cum so hard you pass out."

"Don't threaten me. Eat my pussy."

He got between her legs and stared at the place he came from. He knew he had to squeeze off a load before he fucked her or else he would nut too damn quickly when he finally rammed himself in her. He started eating her pussy and stroking his dick. Andrea was giving direction, inspiring him, telling him how much she loved his mouth on her wet pussy. He licked and sucked her asshole with equal enthusiasm and they sunk to new depths of depravity. He shot his load on her feet and licked it off before going back to sucking her clit to orgasm. Andrea was grabbing the sheets and screaming bloody murder, her inhibitions had disappeared like David Blaine on a HBO special. Noah hadn't even gotten soft, he was so aroused and so out of control.

Andrea reached her first orgasm of the night and she planned on having a few more before it was all over. She turned over and got up on her hands and knees and looked back over her shoulder. "Fuck me!"

There was no need for the mother/son reference because she was a woman that needed to get fucked by a man. She was desperate to feel every inch of that hard meet rammed in her cunt walls and she needed him to do it hard and fast and rough. He grabbed her hair and pulled it like reigns on a philly. She responded by chanting, "Fuck me, fuck me, NOW!"

Noah took careful aim. He lined up the fat head of his dick with her hole. He grabbed her hips and with one fluid, fast motion, he rammed the entire length of his dick deep in her uterus. She screamed out in pain but begged for more. For a brief moment, they slipped into a zone of familiarity and peace. Neither of them had ever experienced such profound love before. Noah was experiencing maternal love and Andrea had found the peace she'd given up 30 years ago. Their union was symbolic of the truly forbidden and the transcendent.

Noah began fucking Andrea with the force and the stamina that he would fuck a man and she took it all and begged for more. He worked his thumb up her ass and she started using her muscles to coax out another load of cum. If he hadn't busted off one earlier, that would have been the end of him but he held on tight. He started smacking that ass and reached around to her breasts. He pulled her tits and twisted them in his fingers and she encouraged him to do it harder. "Ohhh, it feels so good."

Andrea gasped for air and gripped the sheets tightly, sweat was forming on her body and she was in agony and ecstasy. The sensation of Andrea's tight pussy on the shaft of his member was so intense, he was sweating trying to work all 9 inches in and he didn't understand how she could even take it all. She reached for lube on the nightstand and tossed it to him. He flipped the top open and poured half the bottle on her and it dripped on his balls, her pussy, the bed, everywhere. Andrea took control and started fucking him back. "Oh Daddy, fuck me, make me a bad girl Daddy." Obviously, their real roles as mother and son were irrelevant at that point. All that really mattered was pleasure.

Noah grabbed her hips and started pounding. Andrea lowered her head and stuck her ass up in the air so the last few inches could get the right angle and sink deep in her. Andrea was moaning loader, begging for it harder. Fucking was supposed to be dirty and primal and filthy in every way and Andrea and Noah were two untamed wild animals that were lost in debauchery and pleasure. Andrea had craved the sensation of losing herself to a man completely and it was in that moment, when the head of his dick was pounding into her that she started to cum. It was a mental orgasm, a freedom from society and rules and inhibitions.

Noah grabbed her hip and started ramming himself deeper and harder, practically ramming Andrea's head in the wall. "OHHHH FUCK! Take it, take my load." He collapsed on top of her and drifted in and out of consciousness for a few moments. Andrea cradled and comforted him as they fell asleep from exhaustion.

Noah awoke in the early morning hours, shaking his head for clarity and trying to recollect what had happened, again hoping it had all been a dream. Andrea was there, awake as well, this time to comfort him and reassure him that everything would be okay. They'd gone places mother and son shouldn't go. They had explored depths from which there was no turning back. "Mom . . . "

Andrea held her fingers to his lips. "Son, we have the entire rest of our lives to figure out how to make sense of all this. I promise, I'm not going to leave you again, even if things are difficult." Neither would know for a long time to come that the people at the adoption agency had screwed up and that they weren't actually related but it fueled their fantasies for quite some time.

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK

How Come

Slave Hair

I remember when I had slave hair. I call it slave hair because not only is it the hair that slaves where told was more beautiful than their own, natural, nappy hair, but I was also enslaved to it. I couldn't go outside when it was raining, I couldn't go swimming, I couldn't have sex with a man right after I got it done, I couldn't scratch my scalp right before I was going to get my six week reapplication of deadly chemicals, I had to live my life around making sure my naps didn't show.

I had all the arguments against relaxed hair PERFECTED. I would argue with any woman who suggested that my straight hair was anything other than a mere styling option. I convinced myself that I was right and that any woman that even suggested that relaxed hair was some sort of Eurocentric standard of beauty was insane.

I was the same as all the women who rationalize their self-hatred, who condemn me, and who defend their slave hair.

Then, I evolved. I grew. I got strong. I put aside the memories of my grandmother telling me that nappy hair was ugly. I rejected the comments, jokes, and taunts of little boys telling me that my natural hair wasn't pretty like white girls. At the time, I was becoming more spiritually aware, I stopped eating meat, I was becoming healthier all around. I was still holding on to my slave hair. I was terrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd be ugly. I was horrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd never get a job, I'd never get a man, that the world would look at me as something less than human and certainly not beautiful. Then one day, I woke up and I realized that history is prologue. I accepted that my natural, nappy hair was my birthright, that I could be beautiful with the hair that God intended me to have, without chemicals, without the messages that every little Black girl gets beaten into them that tells her to be ashamed of her natural hair. It was only then that I became liberated from my slave hair. It was only then that I became free.

It’s Mating Season

Goddamnit, I want to have sex! It’s Spring and I am in heat. It’s not even so much that I’m horny. To me, being horny is when you are distracted by the physical sensation of wanting to have sex. That’s not at all what I feel. I want to have sex with my entire mind, body, and soul. I want to experience intimacy. I want the release of an INTENSE orgasm and kissing and foreplay and all the stuff that goes along with sex that I’m sure I’ve forgotten all about. I want to experience some new and improved sex where I re-learn everything I’ve every been taught and move to a level transcendent love-making. I’m so desperate to be penetrated that I’ve lowered my standards and I’m willing to have sex with the next half way decent guy that wants me. All I’m looking for is a summer lover who can be monogamous, who is the tiniest bit introspective, and who is willing to take a chance on being with me. He can be the poster child for Heterosexual Digest, a delegate for the Republican National Committee, he can be a deacon in the church, and he can even . . . be white. You know what? I can’t even find a man who meets my lowered standards.

Everybody gets in my ass that my standards are too high, that I’m too negative, that there are LOTS of great men out there and that I’m somehow at fault for not attracting them. It is my contention, and has been for some time now, that the standards that the Black community sets for good Black men is soooooooooo incredibly low, that any brotha with a job, a car, and who lives on his own is considered a good man. Hell, I know more than a few Black men who don’t have two of the three and they are still considered good Black men because they are reasonably attractive and have a college education.

If there are so many good Black men out there, where the hell are they? Where are the men who are introspective? Where are the men who aren’t passive aggressive? Where are the men with integrity and honor and who can tell the truth even when they know that they are going to suffer negative consequences? Where are the men who are able to commit to monogamous relationships? Where are the men who aren’t intimidated by a strong, independent woman? Where are the men who are willing to show their fears and insecurities and don’t see their manhood in inches? Where are the brothas who won’t run at the first sign of trouble in a relationship and who know how to communicate their feelings in a way that doesn’t project their insecurities? Show me the Black men who don’t put their feelings first and who don’t see sex as recreation and view their penis as something that gives them some sort of undeserved right to control and dominate women? Every Black man that I’ve met who even comes close is either married or gay. I contend it is exponentially easier for a brotha to find a good black woman, meaning one who brings the exact same things to the table that he does, than it is for a sista to find her equal if she worked on her issues.

I KNOW, I KNOW, every Black man reading this is going to scream that he’s a good Black man. Unfortunately, the problem with that is this . . . Black mothers don’t teach their sons to have integrity, to be introspective, to form relationships with women that aren’t based on getting their needs met first. Black society doesn’t teach Black men to work out there problems, to deal with their issues and hurts, it doesn’t reinforce to brothas that truth is better than lying. So, while every brotha THINKS they are God’s gift to women because they meet the Black communities low standards, they’ve never once thought about what it means to really be introspective. I bet five bucks most Black men can’t even define the word introspective correctly, let alone have they done the emotional healing needed to be introspective. You can’t put something into practice if you’ve never been shown how.

I KNOW, I KNOW, every Black woman reading this is going to scream that I’m being too harsh, that there are plenty good Black men, that all I have to do is wait, and pray, and work on myself, and put positive vibes out into the universe and stand on my head in the full moon in a month with R in it. It’s always my fault why I haven’t found a partner. Black men are never to blame, making sure the standards for Black men remain soooooo low that anyone who doesn’t have a criminal record is considered a good man. Don’t worry, we can always make concessions for those who do have criminal records so they don’t feel ostracized and they can be included in the good Black man category as well.

Where are the Black women who are frustrated, sick, and tired of being alone that can say that Black men aren’t being pushed to be better human beings and partners? Where are the Black men who can concede that they have no fucking clue how to heal their emotional scars? Yeah, I’m sure there are a few select men who meet my standards of good Black men somewhere on the planet but they are few and fucking far between.

Copyright 2009 Scottie Lowe

The Admiration of Lovers

There was that moment of recognition, that split second when I first laid eyes on you that I knew you were the one. Every fiber of my being, every cell in my body recognized you as my other half. I was enveloped with a peace that passeth understanding and love so deep, so profound that I knew my reality had been shifted forever. Never more could I be satisfied with the mundane and the average.

You moved slowly and deliberately, arousing me with your mere presence. Your hugs would cause my knees to weaken and the gentle touch of your fingertips to the nape of my neck would elicit intense sensations of pleasure. Your seduction of me was complete, stimulating my mind with your knowledge, my soul with your insight and my body with your slow and calculated caresses. Your kisses, oh your sweet kisses, such ecstasy and intoxication I’ve never known.

I close my eyes to receive your kiss and I float freely in a realm of bliss. Your soft tongue licks and your tender lips envelope mine and I respond in kind, letting my mouth express my passion and desire. Your hands explore my body with such tender and intentional strokes. I feel my temperature rise and my body begin to ache for you to complete me. Lover, come unto me, join with me so that we might fulfill our destinies and become one.

Copyright 2006 Scottie Lowe All rights reserved.

Essential Links

Oh! My Nappy Hair Salons

A national salon for all Nappy-haired people. From Dredlocks to Bone-straight hair. We don't discriminate when it comes to Black hair. Three locations to serve you: L.A, Oakland, and Atlanta.

MPAACT

The Ma'at Production Association of Afrikan Centered Theatre exists to develop, nurture and sustain Afrikan Centered Theatre.

Artwear by Robbie

Exquisite, handmade bags sure to be the center of conversation wherever you go. Leather is molded into three-dimensional hollow shapes and transformed into beautiful pouches and handbags, wearable art.

African Voices Magazine

Dedicated to fostering cultural understanding and awareness through literature and the arts.

Rundu

Erotic, yet tasteful nude images of African Americans

Woodrow Nash

Breathtaking sculpture that captures the beauty, elegance, and depth of the African experience. He thinks and creates from the rhythms, color and spiritual lifestyle of Black Folk.

Thierry le Goues

Photography that caputures the beauty of the Black SOUL.

Assata Shakur

Democracy Now!

The Talking Drum

Order of Kush

International Honor Society for people who are passionate about ancient Africa.

Terry Howcott

Broad and Black.

Save Darfur

Stop the Genocide

The History Makers

Stories of success against the odds, achievement in the face of adversity and stories of inspiration.

4DaSoul

Everything you need 4 Da Soul

Emerging Minds

Provides resources for African American individuals that want to empower their community through organizations, movements or businesses.

The The Multiracial Activist

A libertarian oriented activist journal covering social and civil liberties issues of interest to to individuals who perceive themselves to be biracial or multiracial, interracial couples and families and transracial adoptees.

Black Press USA

Provides news and political events concerning African Americans.

Seeing Black

The funky, alternative voice for Black reviews, opinion and voice.

Race and History

Presents information on various historical, political, and scientific topics to reveal what has been lost, hidden, misunderstood, or distorted.

The Afrocentric Experience

Dedicated to the empowerment and the enlightenment processes of all people throughout the world especially those of African descent in Africa and the African Diaspora.

Black Consciousness Online

A gatekeeper organization, established as a spiritual guide to Black Truth and the realm of Black Consciousness.

Africa History

Presents various information and perspectives on African indigenous science and knowledge systems.

Africa Within

A primary reference tool for the serious student as well as a research tool for those looking to expand or begin their Africana studies.

Uncensored Black Writers

Number 1 Black Website for Black Freedom of Speech on the Internet.

African by Nature

The Original Source Of Enlightenment.

Urban Film Premiere

A web-site and community dedicated to film, music and lifestyle.

Black Film Festival

Drawing together established filmmakers, popular film and TV stars, writers, directors, industry executives, emerging artists and new audiences from around the world.

Sisters in Cinema

A resource guide for and about African American women feature filmmakers.

Wholistic by Nature

Wholistic By Nature was founded in 2001 with the purpose of creating a healing organization that would provide education, spiritual enlightenment, healing modalities and lifestyle transformation techniques.

AID Atlanta

A non-profit, community-based AIDS services organization, serving individuals infected and affected by the AIDS epidemic.

Phyre N' Eyce

Satin Slippers

Nubian Poets

Affecting change through the power of words.

Sylvia Hubbard

Author, mother, speaker, journalist consultant and more.

Soulful Synergy

Get Write With Your Soul and share your thoughts, poetry, and/or short stories with other poets, writers, artists, and musicians. This online magazine strives to create a platform for like-minded souls to connect.

Penelope Flynn

Sensual Romamce, Erotica and Erostasy.

Ujima-Nia Book Club

Ujima Nia Book and Social Club is a group of African American men and women, residing in Monmouth County, New Jersey that are united in the spirit of friendship and fellowship in order to share in the discussion of literary works composed by African American authors.

Jazz Poetry Cafe

A viable platform that points spoken word in the direction of streaming media.

BDSM Library

A story archive for BDSM related fiction.

Nubian Passion

A collection of six sensual romance short stories by Gwendolyn R. Morris.

Author Jonathan Luckett

Innovative and talented novelist and writer of erotica.

TimbookTu

Stories, poetry and essays with an African American flavor.

Third World Press

Provides quality literature that primarily focuses on issues, themes, and critique related to an African American public.

Rawsistaz

Focuses on reading, writing, and discussing books primarily by African American Authors.

Women of Color . . .

Dedicated to African American women who have gifted, shaken up, and disturbed the theatre world with their powerful words.

Lit Noire Publishing

Lit Noire Publishing seeks to assist writers of color with the pre-publishing steps and finished product of an authors manuscript.

Blaque Rue Stir

Audio Floss

Misadventures in Urban Culture w/Carlton Hargro.

Afropop Worldwide

Your guide to African and world music via the web and public radio.

Ginger Magazine

Online publication for women of color providing a spicy mixture for living well.

Kola Boof

Radical Womanist Writer.

Brown Skin Books

Publishes high-quality sensual fiction by women of colour.

coloredgirls

Dedicated to a female audience of color passionate about books and writing.

Tracy Reese

Designer Tracy Reese epitomizes “feminine chic” with bright colors, unusual prints and intricate patterns.

NiaOnline

A site for African-American women, by African-American women.

Sister Love, Inc.

A reproductive and sexual health and rights organization for women, with a focus on HIV/AIDS.

B-gyrl

Dedicated to women in urban entertainment, doin their thang.

Feminist Africa

Feminist Africa provides a forum for progressive, cutting-edge gender research and feminist dialogue focused on the continent.

Passion Parties

Black Passion Consultant creates an environment that is fun, educational and safe for women to explore their sexuality to build stronger relationships with their partners.

Black Men in America

Proud Poppa

Celebrating, elevating and replicating fatherhood success principles in the Black community.

Black Mic

Black Enterprise

Your online guide to wealth building.

Black Money

Provides business information and news about African Americans.

One United Bank

The largest Black-owned bank and the first Black-owned internet bank in America.

Tru Roots

A textured hair care salon and emporium.

Cushcity

Worlds Largest African-American Selection of Books, videos, Art Prints, Toys, Software, Calendars and more.

Africreations

A positive & uplifting black web site for all ages. Unique hand made afrocentric items, African art & crafts, positive black books and music, educational black videos and dvds, a wide variety of other products.

Black Funk

Dark Connections

Freddy and Eddy

The Dominant Magazine

E-zine for the Dominant.

Punyeto

Glass Dildos

Fo Brothas



Keith Boykin

One of Americas leading commentators on race and sexual orientation. Site is updated daily with news and commentary.

Blacklight

Articles, book and album reviews.

Kuma

A sort of soul café where adults of all ages can roam and browse freely through our vast array of art, poetry, short stories and audio of Black lesbian erotica.

Fantasy Fiction Resource

They provide an opportunity for fantasy and science-fiction fans to express their thoughts regarding fantasy and sci-fi with gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered characters and themes.

Ebony Male

Dedicated to serving the needs of the African-American gay community and creating an informative web site showcasing issues prevalent to African-American Brothas and their admirers.

Erotica Readers and Writers



Tyrone Powers

Dedicated to uplifting Black people the world over through the dissemination of SOLUTION ORIENTED information.

Black Refer

A Human compiled directory of Black websites.

Ode to the Black Man

It is the beauty, power, strength, and mental prowess of the Black man that has created such uncontrollable lust for him. His lips are full and sensuous, perfect for deep passionate kissing. His muscles flex and strain under that smooth dark skin. His ass, perfectly formed mounds of chocolate flesh, call out to be kissed, licked and sucked. His dick is capable of delivering both pleasure and pain simultaneously, but only the kind of pain that is ushered in on the heels of savage fucking. The thing that makes him most desirable is his attitude and demeanor, his self-confidence and assuredness. From the corporate boardroom, the basketball court, and everywhere in between, it is the Black man’s allure that fuels countless passions.

Introspective Questions

The Internet has dumbed people down. Society in general fosters emotionally immature behavior. Here is your opportunity to really think about your life, your loves, your passions and reflect on your feelings. The challenge is not to give the briefest answers, you don't even have to answer them all at one time, but look at this as an opportunity to really grow.

Brought to you by AfroerotiK


1. What was the most damaging event in your life that gave you a negative self-image?

2. What patterns from your parents have shown up in your adult relationships?

3. What is one personality flaw you wish you could completely erase from your life?

4. I feel very insecure when . . .

5. I feel profound joy when . . .

6. My mission in life is . . .

7. My most memorable love-making experience was . . .

8. How have your belief systems, practices and behaviors evolved from your parents?

9. What’s the most important thing you want your children to know about you after you’re dead?

10. What talent or ability do you possess that makes you different from your peers?

11. How are you different from the person you were 20 years ago?

12. Define what intimacy means to you.

13. What movie had the most impact on how you see the world?

14. You have the opportunity to go back in time and apologize to someone you hurt. What would you say?

15. If your ideal, dream life is a 10, how would you rate your life TODAY in comparison?

16. What song or recording artist moves you emotionally?

17. If you could make love to one person, one time only, who would it be?

18. What did you do wrong in your most significant relationship?

19. Do you regret giving your virginity to the person you did?

20. Describe yourself in 5 words.

36 Questions for People Who Are a Bit More Seasoned!

36 Questions for People Who Are a Bit More Seasoned!

Tired of all of those surveys made up by high school kids? Here's 36 questions for those of us who are a bit more seasoned!


1. What bill do you hate paying the most?

I don’t hate paying any bills. I used to hate when I wasn’t able to pay a bill, but now, I don’t let it bother me and I pay when I can pay.

2. Do you miss being a child?

Not even a little bit. I had a miserable childhood.

3. Chore you hate the most?

Washing dishes. Honestly, I could be outside doing yard work all day long. I don’t mind fixing things, I enjoy cleaning – it gives me a sense of accomplishment, I’m cool with every chore EXCEPT washing dishes. I dread standing at that sink every day. Oddly enough, I wash dishes at my grandfather’s house with no problem. My house, I shed a little tear every day when I have to wash dishes. In fact, I have a sink full of dishes right now in my kitchen.

4. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?

Does cooking a romantic dinner for someone count? I’ve cooked many a romantic dinner for men in my life. Actually going out to a romantic dinner . . . Let’s see. When I was in college, my boyfriend Dennis Fanning and I used to go to this Italian restaurant called The Family. It was like the place we went to celebrate our special occasions. It was hardly romantic but at the time, I thought it was. How pathetic that the last romantic dinner I went to was when I was 20 years old.

5. If you could go back and change one thing what would it be?

When my mother was beating me, and telling me how much she hated me, when she was telling me that I’d never be anything in life, I would block her out and not let those messages sink into my subconscious mind.

6. Name of your first grade teacher?

Ms. Bowling

7.What do you really want to be doing right now?

I would love to be in Kenya, tending my organic garden, with my husband and child.

8. What did you want to be when you grew up?

A Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader or an archeologist.

9. How many colleges did you attend?

Two, one undergraduate and one graduate.

10.Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now?

It has a hood on it and it was raining outside and I don’t have an umbrella.

11. What are your thoughts on gas prices?

Gas companies are making billions of dollars of profit. If they were to make millions of dollars profits rather than billions, and gas was cheaper, everyone would be happy. Unfortunately, capitalism breeds greed and oil companies can’t be happy making millions.

12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?

I haven’t used an alarm clock in YEARS. The only time I set an alarm is when I have to be at the airport at some ungodly hour in the morning. Otherwise, I just tell myself to wake up at a certain time and I do.

13. Last thought before going to sleep last night?

Honestly and truthfully, it was a morbid/depressed contemplation of who would really miss me if I died.

14. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?

Jesse L. Martin

15. Have you ever crashed your vehicle?

Nope, I had a fender bender once but that wasn’t my fault.

16. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer?

Volunteering is a part of who I am, regardless of income or employment.

17. Get up early or sleep in?

Depends on how late I was up the night before. Usually, it’s get up early. Sleeping late is never past 9 o’clock.

18. What is your favorite cartoon character?

Don’t have a favorite cartoon but when I was a kid, my favorite Saturday morning TV show was the one with Isis. “Oh Mighty Isis! Zephyr wings which blow on high, lift me now so I can fly.”

19. Favorite thing to do at night with a guy/girl?

You’re joking right? I’m AfroerotiK.

20. When did you first start feeling old (but never too old for this $#!@)?

Coming to the realization that I will never have children of my own has been a bitch. I’m still trying to process it. It’s not only made me feel old, but it’s made me fear my morality, which I’ve not done previously.

21. Favorite lunch meat?

Meat?

22. What do you get every time you go into Wal-Mart?

Gardening stuff. I LIVE in the home and garden department. In the winter, I go to the home and garden department and just stand there and pretend it’s Spring.

23. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?

I think people who are trying to prevent people from getting married because of their sexual preference are outdated.

24. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about?

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I know every word to every song.

23. Favorite drink?

A drink I made up. An Afrotini – Vanilla Vodka, Kahlua, Bailey’s, and cream.

26. Who[m] from high school would you like to run in to?

Darren Davis, just for closure. ( I know, I know, it’s been a million years, I should have closure by now) I think I just want him to acknowledge that he treated me like shit.

27. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now?

WYPR, Your Public Radio out of Baltimore. I never turn from it in my car. I never even turn from it on Saturdays when they have all those corny folk music game shows.

28.Sopranos or Desperate Housewives?

I’ve never seen one single episode of either.

29. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?

Loving Emmanuel Bell for so freakin’ long.

30. Do you like the person that sits directly across from you at work?

n/a

31. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purposes?

I’m ashamed to admit that I wouldn’t even know how to use a fire extinguisher in an emergency. Maybe that’s something I should look into learning.

32. Last book you finished reading?

Voracious reader that I am, I don’t think I’ve read an entire book since last summer. I couldn’t even tell you what book it was. Oh, it was Randall Robinson, the one about quitting America.

33. Do you have a teddy bear?

No.

34. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth?

You mean brush your teeth without a sink? I’ve brushed my teeth in a hotel room that didn’t have a sink in the bathroom, it only had a kitchenette sink. I don’t know if that qualifies as strange because if the hotel room had a bathroom sink, I would have brushed my teeth in there. I can’t brush my teeth without water.

35. Do you go to church?

No.

36. How old are you?

42

Made for Me

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 ooze integrity and character 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 holy, 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 will be an amazing father to our children, patient, loving, and kind. He will be an excellent example for them to follow and raise them up to be discerning, compassionate, logical, and most of all brilliant. He will not show favoritism to our sons and he will be capable of twisting the locs in our daughter’s hair. He will be willing to educate our children at home and take equal responsibility in doing so.

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,” and make me feel as if everything was right with the world.

The Proposition of a Lifetime

The beauty of the D/s world is that it pushes both Domme and sub to explore their limits, to see just how far they could go. Because I’m a Domme and quite comfortable with myself and my identity as such, it’s easy for me to embrace new opportunities, to see how I might be able to taste new experiences and challenge myself to go further because I know my core, I know the center to which I will return if things don’t work out, is solid.

You don’t have that luxury. Your identity as a sub is still unstable; you are still uncomfortable in your own submissive skin. You are not comfortable with the concept that a real man is strong and dominant and that if you willingly and consciously choose to be submissive, you are not deserving of the honor of being called a man. You are not what you’ve been socialized to be; and giving up that concept can be pretty scary when faced with the reality. You aren’t a man. You aren’t assertive, aggressive, or domineering, you don’t have it in you. You pretend to be in control, you play the role, but inside, you know the truth. You come with the equipment of a man yet you do not possess the inherent strength and character to be a real man. You aren’t a woman for a woman is to be revered and honored. A real woman is holy and sacred and beautiful. You are “other”. You are a lowly submissive swine. You are something to be despised, used, mistreated, and abused. You are something whose very existence is an anomaly. You are ashamed of your penis, it’s small size, and of its inability to simultaneously deliver pain and pleasure the way a real man can.

If you were to belong to me, to be my possession and my pet, imagine the possibilities. Imagine if I were to control your desires, your cravings, to transform you into the depraved, perverted, filthy, vile thing of your dreams, to allow you the opportunity to express and live your most warped fantasies. What would your life be like if I owned you like an object, if I had control of your soul? What if you knew you had the honor of belonging to me in a way that no one else could? Imagine being loved by me and despised by me at the same time. Imagine for a brief moment that your entire world revolves around your worship of me and my ability to release you from the confines of being a man and becoming a dirty, insatiable, whore whose only limits are defined by me.

If you were to sign your life over to me, to relinquish your rights as a human being and become my possession, your life would be forever altered. Let’s not pretend here that we are talking about slavery for this would be completely voluntary on your part. You could continue to go through your daily activities, appearing normal to your co-workers and the hoards of nameless strangers you encounter, but your soul would belong to me. Your every waking thought would be filled with images of me, of how I know your kinkiest fantasies and desires and my willingness and ability to make those dreams reality. Our synergy, our balance comes from my desire to see you debased and humiliated in ways that would make most people’s stomachs turn, that would shock and horrify even the most dark and disturbed minds. You long to have no limits, you long to be transformed into a sub-human sexual, feral animal and you know that I can take you there.

Your very body, mind and soul would belong to me. I would take possession of your nipples, torturing and twisting them until you screamed out in pain. The searing ache of having your tits pierced and weighted for my amusement would register in your brain as pleasure. In our world, pain would become your bliss, your state of euphoria. I would deliver crushing blows to your useless nuts, that I would derive enjoyment from seeing you doubled over, on the verge of consciousness, your pain connecting us as lovers, however non-traditionally defined that may be. It would all be worth it I’m sure. You would endure tremendous pain to be able to feel my warm breath whispering in your ear, telling you that you were a good boy, that you made me proud. Your reward would be my soft hand, wrapped around your throat, choking you, my spit dripping from your face, depriving you of air and toying with your life. What a strange sensation that would be, to have your cock throbbing and hard while you feel yourself passing out, while your mind struggles to stay alive but you surrender your will to me, knowing that I will not let you die. Your fight or flight reflex completely abated in deference to the ecstasy you derive from knowing that your life is literally in my hands. Will you beg and plead for more while I reign down blow after stinging blow on your ass with my whip, making your flesh searing hot from the pain? What sort of thing experiences delight from having their faced slapped, feels arousal when their mouth filled with my slimy green snot and phlegm, gets hard from eating their own puke after being forcefully face fucked and gagged? Certainly not a human being, and certainly not a man.

Your pussy would be in a constant state of arousal under my control and direction. Giving up the pretense of being a man would allow you to accept that your cunt is insatiable and slutty, the center of your sexual being, your source for stimulation. Kept in constant chastity, the only time you would be allowed to orgasm would be through stimulation of your prostate. How many months do you think it would take for you to be able to accomplish that, your nuts swollen, tender, and sore, desperate for release. I’d have to completely re-wire your brain until your asshole got swollen and wet like a real pussy when you were aroused, until you lived to feel your hole stuffed with the hard, pounding cocks of real men. You’d have no choice but to give up the pretense of only wanting dildos and strapons in your fuck hole. Released and free to be who you are meant to be, you’d have to acknowledge that your cravings for real, hot, hard, thick, long dicks pounding you is real and undeniable. Being a cum whore is your natural state of being and it would be up to me to protect you as my pet and possession from harm or disease. It would be at my discretion to provide you with your source of men who will satiate your thirst for cum in your mouth and pussy. Needing to please me, however, knowing I derive pleasure from seeing you used and fucked like a cheap slut, you would never get enough. The minute one filthy dick would be pulled from your gaping, used hole, you would be screaming for another to replace it, knowing that seeing you get fucked makes my real pussy wet and swollen with arousal.

To earn the honor of being allowed to pleasure my body must be an intimidating and scary thought. I have to think that you would count the days until I get my period, knowing that your mouth will be my pad, your tongue my tampon, tasting my blood, treasuring it, licking the soft, wet folds of my pussy and longing for the sweet release of my cum in the process. Oh the torture of having your mouth so near my divine center, tasting my hot, salty piss, never knowing if I’m going to gift you with the opportunity to have my pussy lowered to your face, smothering you, suffocating you with the sweetness of my pussy, feeling the full weight of my body on your face, smelling the musky scent of my ass. On those special and rare occasions when I am pleasured by a real man, to know that you will be able to service me by licking my pussy and asshole clean, to feel my explosive cum flavored farts, tinged with flecks of feces, after my body has been satisfied and pleasured will surely be a privilege. Tasting the mixture of cum and sweat from REAL love making, knowing that you will never again in life, as long as you belong to me, feel the sensation of penetrating a woman again. Feeling my hardened black nipples in your mouth as you suckle them while you call me Mommy and know that I am your primary care giver and owner must be a delight incomprehensible to your feeble mind.

Belonging to me, being my possession, praying at the altar of my asshole would mean that my shit would become your sacrament, your holy communion. You long to feel that connection, that intimacy, that gift of servitude and submission, the ultimate act of degradation. Only you don’t see it as humiliating, do you? You see it as your gift to me, our connection and bond cemented by the fact that you CRAVE my shit in your mouth, in your body, as symbolic of your life being mine. You are shit. You are nothing more than a worthless, pathetic piece of shit and having my shit in you makes you somehow more worthy, more validated. Your arousal is perversely tied to my shit. On your hands and knees, getting savagely fucked by my strapon, with your head in the toilet filled with my foul-smelling turds, you can only breathe in their toxic fumes and feel pangs of jealousy and envy that you were not allowed to be my toilet, crying out in pleasure as you feel me pound your asshole and you can see the contents of my bowels mere inches from your face, intoxicated by the stench, salivating and distraught at the sight of my brown gifts being flushed away.

Know, dear one, that if you did belong to me, I would treat you as my perverted little plaything with great pleasure. Your little clit would get hard every time I told you that I was going to prepare you to get fucked, bending you over and filling you colon with water, only to have you go outside and evacuate your intestines in the backyard like some sort of animal. Sliding that nozzle in, filling you with water, caressing your balls gently while I tell you what a nasty piece of trash you are, making you moan in pleasure as I allow the water to fill you to capacity, the cramps blinding you with pain and discomfort, the pleasure unspeakable as you release the disgusting contents of your rectum, shit splattering all down your legs, your face in my hands as I tell you how wet it makes my pussy to see you do something so foul and degrading for me.

Transformed, your entire being would be meant to ensure that I was as pampered, catered to, and indulged with any and every nicety life has to offer. Truly living to serve me, laying at my feet, fulfilling my every whim, wish, and desire. Every chore, every errand and task, you would complete with joy, knowing it might make me happy, that it might bring a smile to my face. Your role as the breadwinner and primary provider for our little “family” would be to give all of your earnings and savings over to me. I would make the financial decisions, choosing which investments would be most fruitful and provide me with the most benefit. Your allowance would be minimal at best, allowing you to exist but certainly not experience luxuries. Your wallet is tied to your manhood, and being less than a man, you would gladly hand over your credit, your cash flow, and your potential earnings so that I might be your queen. You will pay me to own you, to allow you to be the nasty, putrid, degenerate you long to be, that lurks under the surface of your mediocre existence now, desperate to be set free.

For me, my ultimate arousal will be in seeing your uncontrollable tears as I threaten to release you from my control, to send you back out into the world, un-collared and un-owned, to fend for yourself. Your tortured pleas, desperate and pathetic, begging me to keep you, use you, degrade and humiliate you in ways beyond anything you’ve already endured will be sweet music to my ears. I might just tease you with empty threats to see how far you would go for me or I might make good on my word and dispose of you like used toilet paper. I get aroused at the idea of seeing another submissive brought in, paraded in front of you, your replacement, so that you can suffer the insecurity and low self-esteem of knowing that another will be gifted with the opportunity to perform for me. My twisted and perverse pleasure comes from knowing that I could make you so depressed, so despondent at the thought of being cast aside, that you would be reduced to a whimpering, whining, shell of a human being. Knowing that I have that much control over another person makes my fucking pussy unbelievably wet.

In public, you would be my companion and friend, behind closed doors, you would assume your true role as my servant, slut, and plaything. You don’t think you are deserving of belonging to me. You are afraid that you will have to completely redefine yourself and your worldview if you were to belong to me. It terrifies you more to think of what might be than to remain alone and unfulfilled, masturbating to fantasies that could become a reality if you were to only let yourself experience letting go of the pretense of being a real man.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK

What am I to do?

It’s Spring. The weather is getting warmer, everything is coming back to life, the flowers are in bloom, it’s time for planting and new beginnings. It’s time to form new relationships. It’s time for romance and passion and sensuality; it’s time for eroticism and love. I want all of those things. I want flirt and kiss and . . . I want to have sex. I want to have more than sex, I want mind-blowing, brain-numbing, hot, sweaty, intense love-making. I want to have sex for so long I’m dehydrated and exhausted. I want to fuck the sheets off the bed and annoy the neighbors. I want someone to share my bed with, someone I will go out to dinner with and leave early because we can’t wait to rip each other’s clothes off.

I want all of those things and sadly, they are all elusive. I can’t find a partner. I can’t find someone to even be my lover for a few months, someone whom I can trust and let down my guard with enough to be to satisfy my very carnal and very real desires. I need chemistry and attraction. I need someone who takes my breath away and who stimulates my mind. I want someone who wants me, all of me, not just my body but someone who can see me as more than a booty call. I don’t even mind a summer fling with some dark and mysterious stranger who has to leave for Sudan in September to fulfill his Doctors without Borders responsibilities. I want is man who isn’t terrified of me saying I love you and who understands the concept of intimacy and monogamy. I crave a man who knows how to seduce me, mmmmmm, and who knows how to whisper in my ear and get me wet. WHY, dear lord, is it so difficult for me to find connection?

I am in awe and wonder at the people who can go out and find a partner in no time at all. I know people who are the most dysfunctional, the most oblivious individuals possible who can get a new boy/girlfriend every year. I haven’t been in a relationship since Bush, Sr. was in office. Sad but true. I don’t know what to do. I want to have sex. I deserve that. I have to wonder what act of God would it take for me to find a lover. I’m trying not to be melancholy about it but the thought of spending the spring alone, celibate, is making me depressed.

Contemplating going Pro

I’ve been in the lifestyle for many years. I’ve spent a great deal of time perfecting my craft, honing my skills, defining my brand of domination and becoming really comfortable with it. I retired, mainly because of boredom, mainly because I was looking for a vanilla relationship with a brotha that doesn’t seem to exist. I’m out of retirement, not because I was bored with the vanilla lifestyle, only because I haven’t found the partner of my dreams. I’ve never taken money for my domination because I have never wanted a white man to feel as if he’s purchasing me, that I have to conform to his fantasies.

The opportunity to join a dungeon and become a pro has presented itself and I’m really unsure of how to proceed. On one hand, I think becoming a pro will eliminate a lot of needless communication. I have no interest in cyber domination; I have absolutely no interest in prolonged emails and excessive chatting. If I’m a Pro, I advertise on pro sites, describe my brand of domination, if a sub wants to pluck down the money for my services, then he does. If he doesn’t, he moves on.

I’m not sure about the legality of my particular brand of domination. I’m going to have to do some research. I know that the bisexual servitude that I require would be considered illegal. I would have to imagine that my particular brand of strapon domination would be considered illegal as well. I’m not at all interested in breaking the law, especially to satisfy the desires of some white dude, but I’m also aware that just spanking some dude, no matter how painfully, is not who I am as a Domme. I’m really not going to pay to give showers. I can see it now, the second my book comes out, the line of white men lining up to say that they paid me to shit on them would be lined up around the FOX News studios, whether I had or not.

I know it also exposes me to the psycho stalkers who are obsessed with me. The dungeon will have security and a screening process but I don’t think that will stop the twisted fucks who think they are in love with me because of some story they read, or they commissioned me to write for them, from having access to me. That creeps me out. On the other hand, I don’t think it’s anything wrong with profiting from my skill set. I am an exceptional Domme. I’m not a woman pretending to be dominant to make money. I’m not a woman who is trying to feel empowered to compensate for some childhood issues or who is taking out her frustrations on men. I know I have a large following because of my writing and that has value. It’s something that I will have to give great consideration.

Interracial Domination Broken Down in Black and White

It seems that all my work, all my efforts, all my time and energy trying to educate and enlighten white people is nothing but a waste of time. All the time that I take to construct stories where people of color are shown as multi-dimensional, complex, well-rounded HUMAN BEINGS is futile if all white people get is that I’m promoting some sort of Black sexual superiority. Time and time again, white people write me and compare my work to the most outrageous, degrading, stereotypical, offensive interracial websites imaginable and, not surprisingly, get offended and arrogant when I point that fact out. I do NOT use the N word in any of my stories. I do not think it’s flattering, a compliment, or the meaning of the word has changed. I will not tolerate any white person (or Black person for that matter) using the word with me or suggesting that they know better than I what the real meaning of the word is. Black people in my stories are masterful in every sense of the word but not merely because they have Black skin but because they are intellectually, mentally, spiritually, psychologically, culturally, and emotionally more evolved. I’ve never implied that ALL Black people possess such characteristics (oh, but I long for the day we do) only the characters in my stories.

I don’t even write about the concept of Black supremacy, intellectually or erotically. I believe that Africans were, prior to our enslavement, UNQUESTIONABLY, ethically and morally, more evolved than white people. It’s a point that can’t even be argued. Any race of people that would slaughter, kidnap, brand, torture, and enslave another race of people simple because of their skin tone is clearly morally bankrupt. As to the lame arguments that Africans enslaved other Africans, and it was Africans who sold their brothers into slavery, those distortions and lies are the fairy tales of white people who refuse to accept responsibility, accountability, or blame for the actions of their warped ancestors.

Slavery in African wasn’t race based. It was also not inhumane. If and when Africans engaged in war with another community, the resulting slavery was not that of chattle slavery where individuals lost their rights as human beings. They could retain their names, their families would stay in tact, they could marry and practice their own religions, they were not treated as objects. Clearly they were not ridiculed for their hair, facial features, or bodies because they possessed the exact same physical characteristics of their captors. Africans who had engaged in the trade of human beings with Europeans could have no earthly idea that they were participating in the dehumanization of their brothers and sisters. White people perpetuate that falsehood because they want to appear innocent in their transgressions. It would be akin to a recruiter today getting commission to recruit people to work overseas during this bad economy only to find out that they were essentially selling people into unspeakable conditions. Once Africans on the continent learned of the hellish, nightmarish, disgusting fates that befell their sisters and brothers, they rebelled, and were often captured and enslaved themselves. I’ve said time and time again however that our greatness as a people and race has been diminished and stifled by slavery and that if we are ever to return to our greatness as a people, that it will take nothing short of a miracle to erase the centuries of brainwashing that we have endured. Even then, if and when we assume our true role in the universe, our skills, talents, and abilities should be celebrated as different, not superior.

I have never written about the concept of “getting back” at white people for slavery. It can’t be done. To enslave white people and inflict similar punishment on them is probably the most vile and horrific concept I’ve ever heard of. To assume the role of our oppressor is not to exact revenge for the millions of men, women, and children whose lives were destroyed by slavery, racism, discrimination, oppression, and bigotry. We can not claim superiority and then act as lowly, evil, and immoral as white people. There is no tit for tat, not quid pro quo, no act or acts that can be done to restore the world to the way it was supposed to be had Africans not been enslaved. I DO however write about white people experiencing what it is to be a slave. White people want to sanitize the experience, to make slavery into some Dixieland/Mark Twain fantasy where “it wasn’t so bad” for slaves and I allow them with my work to see exactly what Africans who were enslaved felt. I work diligently to dismantle the delusion that white people have that their sexual servitude is in any way akin to that of the slavery that my ancestors endured that was far from a sexual fetish. That’s VASTLY different than saying that I’m getting back at white people for slavery. Again, it can’t be done.

It seems I have to spell out the lessons to be learned by white people in each of my interracial domination stories.

1. Black Beat: Tracy was a Black woman in a relationship with a white man. They were a couple, a loving couple in fact. Rick desired extreme racial domination with more extreme and cruel punishments. Tracy wasn’t capable of it because she wasn’t secure in her own sense of self as a Black woman. She’d been conditioned by society to see white men as superior so she could barely do more than a light spanking or playful slaps to her partner. It wasn’t until she met Mistress Khadijah (meaning premature daughter) that she became empowered enough to explore her mate’s more masochistic desires.

2. Black Maled (Or Blackmailed on some sites): Ron and Tricia were arrogant, oblivious, perverse, and they objectified Black sexuality. They only saw Black people as objects to satisfy their racist desires. They had no human consideration for Black people other than fodder for their submissive sexual fantasies. Kamal (meaning perfection) was bright, intelligent, articulate, well-read, culturally identified, and wanted nothing to do with playing the Mandingo buck. (For the real definition of Mandingo http://www.accessgambia.com/information/mandinka.html ) He used Ron and Tricia’s perverse lust for him to his advantage and was able to secure a position at work he rightfully deserved.

3. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: It seems apparent to me that the story describes a celebration of Black women who were the victims of institutional racism from insurance companies. The policies of many companies and the people who administer those policies carry with them a great many biases and prejudices. This story was an attempt to show that the kink community could acknowledge that discrimination and contribute to the betterment of Black women while having fun at the same time.
4. Dominant Black Tales and Submissive White Tails: My most popular story and certainly the longest. This story chronicles the evolution of a white man who goes from online fantasies to real time experience and how he tries desperately to hold on to the fallacy of white supremacy every step of the way. Desiree and Derrick are more intelligent, more attractive, and more in tune with their sexuality than Bryan and Becky. The powerful couple masterfully orchestrate and manipulate the white couple. They are superior in that they are more sophisticated, more adept at psycho-sexual torture. They are clearly more than lust-driven ghetto dwellers. Their characters drive the plot; they don’t just act as fillers for white lustful fantasies.

5. Goddess Initiation: This has to be one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written. It’s a story about a secret society of Black people who are trying to restore African ceremonies, traditions, and rituals to their spiritual and cultural practices. They place the woman as Goddess and the men are not inferior, they are protectors and guides. The sole white man in this story is merely there to observe their ritual. He acts as an object in this story, a receptacle for the sperm of the 15 men (or was it 20, I forget). It doesn’t even matter. It shows how Black people can take something like a gangbang that white people would partake in as vulgar and crass and transform it into something spiritual and holy like a Goddess Initiation.

6. Hotel Bonaventure: Steven, the white character, never gets what he wants in this story. Theresa and Carl skillfully play him, making him orally satisfy Carl while not being allowed to touch or taste Theresa. Again, it seems obvious to me that Steven is not made to suck Carl’s dick because it is humiliating and degrading, but its an honor. Steven is the one driven by his lusts, his compulsions, not the Black couple.

7. Jungle Fever: I’ve written extensively already about the social issues of this story. It’s not truly a tale of domination but rather it’s the story of how white people’s racism and obliviousness drive them to act out sexually and it also details exactly how Black men can get sucked up in the hysteria of believing that white women are better and that they are sexual studs simply because of the color of their skin.


8. Neighborly Hospitality: It’s not really a story of domination but it explores the cuckold fetish. Syreeta and Dixon were two highly successful, sexually aware individuals who happened to be Black and who happened to move in next door to a sexually dysfunctional couple, Lisa and Brad. Because Lisa and Brad didn’t talk about their fantasies with each other, because they weren’t open and honest with each other about their sexual issues, it was easy for Dixon and Syreeta to use those things to their advantage. The typical cuckold story doesn’t include a Black woman. This story is woven around the Black woman and her approval and orchestration of the events. The typical cuckold story doesn’t show the lives and backgrounds of the Black man, this story shows Dixon to be an epicure, a jazz lover, a cultural powerhouse, and a LOVING partner to his mate.

9. Plantation Lullabies. This was originally supposed to be a 1250 word story written for a client. It ended up almost 7000 words and what I consider to be one of the most powerful pieces I’ve ever written. The words poured through me and I was awed by how they were being transcribed at my fingertips. It is about replicating the true slave experience, just as the fake website indicates. It’s not about getting back at whitey for slavery. It’s not about proclaiming Black supremacy. Just as the concentration camps at Auschwitz today allow people to see what it was to be a Jew in Nazi Germany, the fictitious plantation on Dewees Island in South Carolina (http://www.deweesisland.com/ )was created to allow white people to see and experience what it was like to be an African who was enslaved. It is a living museum; it is a classroom like none other. At no point does Mistress Emmanuel ever say she is getting back at white people for slavery. She is breaking white men of the notion that slavery is something voluntary, she is divesting them of the false and offensive concept that sexual slavery is in any way comparable to what real slaves had to endure.

10. The Making of a White Sissy Slut: If there was ever a story written to illustrate how a Black woman can use and discard a white man like a piece of trash, this is it. White people assume that because I write stories to show Black people in a positive light, that automatically assumes that I have some responsibility to show white people in a positive light as well. My job is to hold white people up to the mirror of racism and make them see their ugly reflections. My job is to show white people that Black people are more than just one-dimensional savages. If this story were written about two white people, the Female Dominatrix would be considered the quintessential Domme. Black women are allowed to be sexually dominant without that being ALL they are allowed to be. We can enjoy our power as women, as Black women, and enjoy D/s kink as much as any other woman without that being our sole identity. We can be masterful and sadistic in the bedroom and be vulnerable, sensitive, empathetic, compassionate, and very humanly flawed outside the bedroom.

11. Black Daddy Domination: I’m not even sure it’s worth identify the glaring social issues of this story because white people aren’t going to get it even if I do. All they will read is the white man worshipping the superior black cock.

I don’t see the reason for even writing interracial domination stories anymore if white people can’t grasp the social commentary that seems blatantly and painfully obvious.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK

Anal Ramblings

I am to be counted among the women that love anal sex. I remember when I was a teen and I found my mom's collection of porn, I was fascinated with the pictures of anal sex. I don't know if that influenced my desire or was a premonition of my proclivities. When I got to college I was preoccupied with trying to make sense of my bisexuality so anal sex got put on the back burner for a while. When the urge hit me, it hit strong. I thought about it all the time and didn't really know what to do about it. I would try to wiggle and moan more when my boyfriend's fingers got close to that area but I never asked him to do anything. I don't even think I was bright enough to finger myself there at the time.

I asked my boyfriend at the time to try it. He wasn't interested; he kept saying, "that's gay, I don't want to try it." (It was the 80s, anal sex wasn’t popular back then) The very first time we tried it, I was on top and in control of everything. I went slowly, I think the curiosity kept me going more than anything. I was fascinated with wanting to feel it. It was uncomfortable, not painful. The discomfort didn't last long and it soon became a sensation like I'd never felt before. The only way I can describe it was it was like not being able to take a deep breath. It was pleasure in every pore of my body. The very first time I did it, it felt orgasmic. I didn't cum, I didn't even know how to cum at that point in my life. I got scared and stopped and my poor boyfriend at the time thought he had hurt me. We didn't do it for more than a year after that because he said he didn't like it but I wanted to feel it again. I started masturbating by myself at the time with something I'm sure was unsafe. If I remember correctly, it was some sort of arts and crafts glue stick.

After about a year, my boyfriend and I tried it again. I loved it even more. We would save it for special occasions and he took his time every time so by the time we got to it, I was like a crazy woman. When we broke up, he made me promise and swear that I wouldn't do it with anyone else ever again in life and I kept that promise for many, many years. Many years later, during what was the beginning of my life of sporadic celibacy, I would masturbate every day and stimulate myself anally. I couldn't cum without it. For a year I think I did it once a day. Then I went into my phase of not masturbating at all. Went through that for almost three years. Now, on the rare occasion that I have sex, I try to get my partner to finger or lick me there, but its so rare that I am with someone at all, and even then it's not someone that I can let down my guard with.

Few years back, if I wanted to masturbate, I would have fantasies about anal sex. I wouldn't penetrate or stimulate myself there, just think about it. I would watch anal sex porn almost exclusively. Now, I rarely masturbate at all, three or four times a year. I think about what it would be like but the sensation is so distant in my memory that it doesn't motivate me at all anymore. I love to fantasize about what it would be like when I find my twin flame and experiencing it with him, but the fantasy is more about seducing him, teasing him with the idea of it, making him crave my ass, more than about anal sex in particular.

I have used a strapon on men and I love it. It's not about power; it's about giving pleasure. There is something intensely erotic and intimate about seeing a lover in the throes of ecstasy. Hearing him moan and beg for more . . . that is SUCH a turn on for me. I'm not into giving pain so if there is even any indication of discomfort on his part, my hypothetical dick goes down. For me, it's about him sharing a part of himself with me that is secret and private. It's our little secret. When I'm hitting that Gspot and he's working his ass on my "dick", it's like no other sensation in the world. It's not about domination for me.

Sometimes, I occasionally fantasize about making love to my partner in the same way that he would make love to me, slow and tender and gentle, as an act of us showing our love for one another. Ever since I first tried it almost 18 years ago, I have never thought anal sex had anything to do with being gay. The physical anatomy of a man and a woman is the same anally; if a woman is able to enjoy it then a man has the same thing. In fact, a man has a prostate gland, which makes it more enjoyable for him than a woman. (I suspect that I have something similar to a prostate however because I even like to have my pussy fingered towards the back, not the front where my g spot is supposed to be) Sexual preference is sexual preference, either you are attracted to men or you aren't. If you are attracted to women, then a woman should be able to help you experience that level of intimacy and pleasure.

Two interesting notes. One, I can't tell you how many brothas have expressed to me that they want to be penetrated by their wives but they are afraid to ask. Women, talk to your men because their desire to experience it and their fear of talking about it might drive them to engage in unsafe sex in shame and desperation. These aren't feminine men, submissive men, or confused men. I get brothas every day tell me that they would like me to write a strapon fantasy but and that they can’t find a sista to do it to them. When I ask them how many sistas they have asked, they usually say. none

Two, I suspect that the need to experience the sensation of anal penetration has a lot to do with opening up channels for kundalini to flow up the chakras. I'm completely convinced that those dastardly Europeans were made aware of the spiritual potential anal sex held and made it a sin so that the masses would not be able to tap into it's power. I'm not at all suggesting that everyone that has anal sex is more spiritually aware. Sex has become so crass and base that it's spiritual elements have been dormant for centuries.

Psychotic

I'm going to copy and paste it EXACTLY the way it was sent to me. Nothing changed, edited, or deleted.

servilebych on 4/8/09 at 9:51 PM:


Good Evening,

Thank You for the time it took to read my humble message. i am an inferior white man and i acknowledge my weakness and the unfair and unrealistic "advantages" society has thrust upon my inferior person. i want to make up for them and learn my true place in life. i feel the only way to do this is to offer myself to be humbled and degraded by a Goddess like Yourself who understands my true place which is at the foot of African Gods and Goddesses. Is there anyway You might allow this inferior creature to worship You and serve You as Your slave?

humbly,

tom

servilebych on 4/8/09 at 10:32 PM:

Im reading Your wonderful blog and learning a great deal. Thank You.


servilebych on 4/10/09 at 2:16 PM:

After reading your blog and other information about you Ive come to the conclusion that you are the white men you write about. It is you that has these fantasies. You also seem to blame just about everything on slavery. You say the President is not liberal enough for you. Would you prefer to transfer all the wealth from whites to blacks? Maybe even live in a communist society? If Blacks are as superior as you say they are they shouldnt want nor should they need the help of the Federal Government. Most of the peopple you say have an unfair advantage got there either because of their own hard work or from the hard work of their ancestors. Many people who currently live in the US came here AFTER slavery ended. If you know anything about American history you realize that there was a huge wave of immigration after the Civil War. You would also realize that only 1/3 of the people in the Antebellum South actually owned slaves. Maybe this is why it is so hard to find Americans whose ancestors owned slaves. If you are angry because other races and or ethnicities complain of mistreatment or prejudice you should study world history. The Jews in Russia were not only oppressed but they were killed on a large scale in pogroms. Of course you are also familiar with the Holocaust, maybe the Irish famine? Your people are not the only ones who have suffered. You seem to be the only ones who whine continually about it. Maybe you should read Thomas Sowell or Walter Williams, 2 African American authors/economists who refuse use excuses. Perhaps you should talk to all the African American males who abandon their wives and kids. Im sure you would find a way to blame that on slavery too. The point is that after awhile, you have to start taking responsibility for your own actions.

Whose ancestors DID own slaves?

In every conversation I've ever had about race in my life, and that's been quite a few given my political and social leanings, I've yet to meet ONE white person that has said to me, "Yes, my ancestors owned and profited from slaves." I’m beginning to think that white people only know how to say, “MY family didn’t own slaves.” Well . . . I’ll be god damned, somebody’s family had to own slaves. Where are those descendents?

If I use the barometer of white people’s assertions, slavery didn't exist at all and it played no role in making the US the richest nation in the world. Apparently, the youngest and most violent nation is the richest because it's inhabited by intellectually superior white men not because they stole the land, its resources, and enslaved free labor.

Then there’s the ever popular, "My ancestors were (fill in the blank with some obscure ethnicity), they were immigrants that arrived after slavery, and they were discriminated against too." Which is in essence saying, “My ancestors endured the exact same thing as slaves and they were able to make it.” Which again is saying, “Blacks are just inherently lazy because if my ancestors were able to not speak the language, open a store, become successful, anyone can.” Let’s not take into account that Black people were denied the right to read and write for generations, that they were treated as sub human for 100s of years, that they were beaten, raped, bought sold, tortured, and brutalized for generation after generation. That has NOTHING whatsoever to do with our current standing, that’s just an unfortunate and uncomfortable fact that needs to be dismissed so that white people don’t have to think about the fact that the playing field isn’t really level as long as they don’t share the same history.

Apparently, slavery has no long term effects whatsoever. “Color doesn’t matter, slavery was in the past, let it go.” What conversation about slavery would be complete without white people saying, “Jews suffered during the Holocaust and look at how well they are doing today.” Sure, Jews were imprisoned for 7 years, not enslaved for generations so of course the effects would be vastly different. I'm not interested in comparative "Oppression Olympics" or proving that anyone suffered more or less than anyone else. I would like someone to stand up and say, my family had money passed down generationally that was the direct result of owning slaves.

I wonder what happened to the descendents of slave owners because they certainly don't exist anymore. They must have all evaporated into thin air at the end of the civil war. I would love to have someone say to me, my family didn't own slaves, but they did benefit by using the cheap labor of Blacks during the depression. Or my family was known to traffic in the illegal slave trade after slavery was abolished or some other such shocking revelation. Fuck that. Where are the white people who can say, “Hell, I benefited from slavery because my family didn’t have it as bad as Black families did, pure and simple.” It’s incomprehensible to almost every white person under the sun that NOT being the victim of racism, bigotry, oppression, lynching, and discrimination is a benefit. I had one white man write a three page letter telling me that the poverty stricken white people of the Appalachian Mountain region were the ONLY descendants of slave owners alive because slave owners were stupid and poor and they didn't survive after the Civil War. He seriously believed that.

Fuck that, how about a white person just admitting to me that they have no clue as to the extent of what the psychological damage to enslaved Black people was nor do they understand what its ramifications are today.

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