Wet and Wild

What could be better than Atlanta in the summer, having a cookout with your friends, chilling in the backyard, and having a ole good time? My crew is ranked high up on the roster of the who's who of the Black Urban Professionals who have migrated to the ATL from New York, DC, Chicago, all over to make our mark. You'd think with all our collective success there'd be a lot of drama and egos to be stroked but all my peeps are down to earth and really chill. Being as we are all transplants, we sort of formed a bond and we all hang together. None of us went to Morehouse or Spelman, none of us belong to the super-huge mega churches that require a W-2 form and a pint of blood to join. There's me, my name is Nowell, and my boy Tracy who is a lawyer for the DA's office. He would make a helluva lot more money working in a private law firm but he's all about fighting crime and balancing the scales of justice. Then there is my boy Ezra, financial wizard extraordinaire and banker to the stars. Well, they aren't really stars but they are the first and second generation rich, white, fat-cats who live in Buckhead. I have my own cleaning business, specializing in cleaning office buildings at night and I'm pleased to say that I've done well for myself. And no, before you ask, I don't hire no damn undocumented workers thank you very much.

My homies Theresa and Vivian were in the house as well, prettying up the scenery. T is a professor at Ga. Tech and Viv works at the CDC doing what exactly I don't know but I know it's some crazy shit that turns my stomach every time I hear her talk about work. I learned my lesson and stopped asking a long time ago. Rounding out the group was my special little shorty, Imani, who is running her own spa and retreat off RDA Blvd. No disrespect to the Georgia belles or the southern peaches or whatever the home grown ladies from the dirty south call themselves but I prefer my women with a little more spunk and a lot less subservience than the native ladies seemed to offer up and Imani had the perfect mix of intellect, beauty, creativity and FI-YAH that suited me perfectly. We're going on two years together and, truth be told, I am planning on putting a ring on her finger and making her mine but I want to plan it out perfectly how I'm going to ask her but me and my procrastinating ass just haven't taken the time to work out all the details.

My house is always the central meeting place for everybody because I have the big pool, the enclosed backyard and the gigantic grill that looks like something they'd install on Extreme Home Makeover. I was having a little theme party of sorts. It was my Latin night, nothing special, informal really, but I had some smokin hot salsa CDs, all the fixins for do-it-yourself fajitas, a couple of pitchers of mojitos and a chest full of Corona's on ice. I gotta pat myself on the back sometimes for being able to pull off my little theme parties with such little effort and a lot of success.

We were all chillin in the back yard, dancing and making up words to songs in Spanish, well, they weren't real words, we were just trying to sing along to the steamy Afro Cuban melodies. We'd played a game of Spades and Tracy and Teresa spanked everyone's ass, like they always do, and made sure to gloat and brag for the rest of the night. While Imani and I are officially the only real couple, there is always a lot of flirting going on amongst the rest of the crew even though I have no first hand knowledge of anybody ever seriously hooking up. I do know for a fact that Tracy has a thing for T and I've seen Vivian and Ezra flirting on more than one occasion. Imani often fantasizes that they will hook up and we will all live in the same subdivision and have kids and the whole nine but, to date, e'rybody was just trying to make sure that the friendship didn't get fucked up so extracurricular lovin was off limits. Imani and I were together before the crew so we were exempt. In fact, we were the anchors of the crew, we both brought our friends to the table and everyone just clicked.

"Damn, Nowell, these Mageetos are good as shit. I gotta make me some of these." Ezra was letting the alcohol go to his head.

"It's pronounced MO-HE-TO silly, and sit your drunk ass down before you fall in the pool and bust your skull open." Vivian was playing mother hen but she looked more like a Sports Illustrated cover model in her skimpy little bikini and that thingie that wrapped around her booty. Ezra wasn't really that drunk; he was just playing it up so he could pull Viv on his lap and get his feel on. He winked at me as he snuggled in her neck and whispered sweet nothings. Knowing E, it was more like nasty somethings rather than sweet nothings.

Tracy and Teresa were in the Jacuzzi, talking about the meaning of life and cosmic, karmic shit like they always do. The rest of us could have stripped down butt naked and done the limbo and they wouldn't have noticed. It was all about intellectual connection with the two of them and whenever we got together, the two of them always ended up in some deep philosophical discussion about the meaning of life. It's not that they rest of us were uninterested or incapable of participating in the dialogue, it's just that they only seem to have eyes for each other whenever our little get togethers go past 9 PM.

I poured Imani another drink and I popped another beer. "Nowell! Are you trying to make me pass out? I've barely finished my last drink. Besides, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

I grabbed her hand and pulled her close. "Wait, dance with me first. I love this song."

"You've never heard this song before," she resisted, pulling away, "come on, let me go."

"Just because I've never heard this song before, doesn't mean I don't love it. Besides, I love you and I want to dance." That was all it took and she was in my arms and we were doing the forbidden dance. My shit was getting rock hard and it was a good thing it was now dark outside because the glow from the citronella candles wasn't bright enough to illuminate the big bulge in my trunks.

Dancing didn't last too long before we were interrupted. "Hey, y'all, it's getting late and me and Teresa are going to head out." The girls started kissing each other goodbye n' shit and Ezra and I pulled Tracy to the side. We wanted to know why the speedy exit was in order and why he looked like he had just hit the lotto. "Maaaaan, me and Theresa gettin' ready to take things to the next level. I'm following her back to her place, yo. She's the one; I don't know why I been frontin' for so long. She's everything I've been looking for in a woman and the friendship is there . . . man, I gotsta roll, I'll holla at you cats manana. Adios, I'm outta here." Ezra and I were giving him pounds and congratulating him when we looked over and saw the ladies were huddled together whispering and looking like sexy-ass Charmed sisters, only the chocolate version, getting ready to cast a power of three spell on Tracy. I broke that shit up quick fast before they could talk Theresa out of anything and started passing out more drinks in congratulations of our friends when they left.

We couldn't stop talking about Theresa and Tracy after they left, hoping things worked out, hoping they didn't fuck up our friendship and force us to choose sides if there was a messy breakup. Overall, the tone was positive. They were both great people and they seemed to have a shitload of chemistry between the two of them. Neither of them was prone to drama or bad breakups in their other relationships so we were pretty assured that they had the makings of a long term joint. We were all sitting around chilling, when out of the blue, Imani blurts out, "So Vivian, when are you and Ezra going to hook up?"

If you could have seen the look on both of their faces you would have peed your pants. They both looked like deer caught in headlights, coughing and stammering, trying to play it off. Vivian played it off and said, "Ohhhh, I'm not Ezra's type."

E-Z-E put that shit in check with the quickness. "And what is my type?"

Vivian looked uncomfortable and got up and got more beer. She bent over and I had to look away real quick before I felt a hand upside the back of my head for staring. That big ole booty was looking de-mutha-fucking-licious. Iman's not jealous and I try to be respectful but damn, a brotha can appreciate a fine thick azz when he sees one. She came back with two beers, "Anyone else want one," trying to avoid the question.

"I'll take one but I want to know what you think my type is. You don't think I'm attracted to beautiful, intelligent, sweet, successful women? You think I like chicken heads?" Ezra wanted an answer. "I've been feeling you since the day we met but you was always talking about dude in LA, Gerald, and I wasn't trynta holla when you were into some other guy."

Viv looked like she was offended. "First of all, his name was Levar, where the hell did you get Gerald from? Second, that was over a year ago. You haven't heard me mention anyone since then, at least nothing serious. I just thought that because you never really tried to push up that you weren't attracted to me."

I grabbed Imani's hand and pulled her over by the pool because I could tell things were about to get serious. She was protesting, saying she wanted to stay and clear things up, defend her friend that, in fact, she had stopped talking to Levar at least a year ago. I know my boo and she has been dreaming about the possibility that all our friends would get together since shortly after we first introduced them. And know her like I do, she was going fuck shit up if she interfered. I explained to her that it wasn't about Levar Burton, Gerald Levert or anybody else under the sun at that moment, it was about the two of them admitting that they were attracted to each other and that they've both been fighting it.

When we looked over, Ezra had pulled Vivian down on his lap and they were talking. We could see Vivian take the initiative and lean over and kiss Ezra softly. "See," I said, "just let them work this out. They'll be fine." Things went from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. I guess all that pent up attraction to one another had to find some sort of release. E flipped Viv over and lay her back on the sofa thingie, I keep forgetting the name of it but Imani always tells me what it is. Vivian's legs wrapped around him and they started doing a slow grind. I have to admit, it was sort of sexy to be watching them like that.

I glanced at Imani and she was showing signs of arousal as well. Her nipples were poking out and I could clearly see them through her bathing suit. She was breathing heavy and her eyes were fixed to the two brown bodies that were going at it. It was hard not to get turned on by their display. Except for the fact that they were both wearing bathing suits, our friends fucking right in front of us like they didn't give a damn if the whole world could see them. The moonlight, the mojitos, the making out all made my dick harder than Chinese calculus.

I started mirroring Ezra's actions while Imani kept her eyes focused on our friends. When he would kiss Vivian's neck, I would kiss Imani's. She tried to push me away but I could tell from the gentle moans she was making that she was really turned on. Ezra undid the tie on Vivian's top and let it fall to the ground. He lowered his mouth to her hard nipples and started licking them, causing her to arch her back and cry out into the night. I did the same to Imani and she went crazy, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me to her tits.

My mouth was going from one nipple to the other, sucking and licking, feeling her pussy grinding on me, when I heard Ezra clear his throat. He and Vivian were standing watching us, Vivian with a towel held across the front of her. "Hey, yo, uhmmm, do y'all think it would be alright if we uhmmm, crashed in the guest room tonight. We uhmmm."

"Yeah, go right ahead," I cut him off mid sentence, "mi casa, es tu casa," I said, laughing to myself about continuing the Latin theme for the night. They were off before I could even get the words out of my mouth hardly. Imani was saying all kina shit about how everyone hooked up on the same night and how excited she was but I wasn't tying to hear none of that. I pulled her bottoms off and I drove my tongue in between her pussy lips. They were slick with arousal and she tasted food as fuck. She grabbed the back of my head and started humping my mouth.

"Stop, stop, stop," she said all of a sudden. I heard her loud and clear but I didn't listen to a word she said. I started sucking her clit softly while I was trying to untie my trunks and get my dick out. "Stop," she said, trying to scramble away. She pointed to the window that was the back bedroom of my house and I stopped long enough to look up to see what she wanted to show me. I'm a bachelor so the term window treatments was only something I'd heard when watching Trading Spaces with Imani when she was at the crib. I didn't have blinds, curtains, shades, I didn't even have a ghetto ass bedsheet hanging up. I called it my contemporary minimalist look, Imani called it being a trifulling. Anyway, we could see our friends, in front of the window plain as day, going at it. Viv was facing the window and looking down at us and E was behind her with his mouth plastered to her sexy ass. Imani said, "This is getting a little too carried away, let's go inside. Besides, I've had to pee for the last hour and I can't hold it much longer."

"Yeah, I know," I whispered. I started licking her pussy again, driving my tongue up inside her. She protested that we had to go inside, that she didn't want to be seen, that she had to go to the bathroom and probably a few more reasons I didn't pay attention to either.

By the time I slid my fingers in her pussy, she shut the hell up with all that complaining and she was saying, "Nowell, that feels so fucking good, oh yeah, eat my pussy, suck my clit, damn, mmmm, tongue fuck me." I went into overdrive. I tried to lap up all her sexy juices but the more I licked, the more she made. Her clit got hard and I gave it the special treatment. That did the trick because then next thing I knew, she was saying, "What are you waiting for, I need that dick so fucking bad."

That was exactly what I wanted to hear and stood up and took my trunks all the way off. I glanced up at the window for a second and Ezra was holding Vivian, her arms and legs wrapped around him, and he was sliding her up and down on his dick. My dick was eye level with Imani, who was seated, and she grabbed it and started sucking it-- stroking it. It was deep, if I closed my eyes, I could feel the most amazing pair of lips sliding up and down on my dick and if I opened my eyes I could see two people fucking right in front of me. Thinking back, I should have kept one eye open and one I closed. Anyway, when my dick was nice and wet, I sat down and pulled Imani on my lap. She was facing me and I was sucking those titties harder this time.

I grabbed my dick and I said, "Sit on it, ride me." The heat when her pussy lips touched the head of my dick almost made me see stars. Hell, I thought I could see the fucking Aurora Borealis for a minute there when she started sliding up and down on me. Talk about ride or die, this chick was squeezing and grinding and working it like nobody's bizness. I grabbed her ass with both hands and started doing my job to work my dick up in her and hit every spot she had.

"Oh shit, stop," she was chanting, but she was still riding me. I wasn't letting her go and she was meeting my every thrust by grinding her pussy on me and making my dick feel like it was enveloped in a heavenly body. "I'm serious Nowell, I have to pee, let me go." She was out of breath and I could tell she was only minutes away from reaching her special moment.

I grabbed her ass and held on tight. I started working my dick up in her harder. "Go ahead."

She threw her head back and gave into the pleasure momentarily but kept saying, "Please, stop, I really have to pee, let me go, come on."

I had wanted this for a long time. Tonight was the night. The stars were aligned for everyone and I wasn't about to let this opportunity pass. "That's right baby. Go. Go ahead and piss on me. Piss on my hard dick while I fuck you. Shower me, mami. I want to feel all that hot piss on my dick and balls while you ride this mother fucker. Piss right on me."

There was a look of terror in her eyes. Mostly because I think she knew it was too late. I'd been masterminding this up all night. Little did I know that we'd have an audience to watch us but there was no turning back. Imani raised up so that just the head of my dick was in her pussy. The look on her face was one of pure, unadulterated pleasure. We'd talked about it before, about why I wanted to feel her piss on me and she was open-minded but hesitant. For me, I wanted to feel there was nothing my girl couldn't share with me, that we were connected in a way that most people weren't. I wanted to know that I was giving her dick so good that she wouldn't stop for anything. Mostly I wanted to just fuck the piss outta her, plain and simple. I grabbed my shaft and it felt thicker than it had ever felt before. She shut her eyes but I couldn't keep my eyes off that spot. It felt like and eternity and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to give her an excuse to back out at the last minute. All I wanted was to feel her hot flow over my dick, balls, and running down my ass.

"Oh shit, I'm really doing it," she softly whispered as I felt the first drops of piss. At first, it was nothing more than a few dribbles. I reached up with my hand and twisted her nipple like I was turning on a faucet and she let out a moan and the flow started getting stronger. She was moaning and licking her lips. "It feels so good, so natural, I like it," she said, "do you like it too? Is this what you wanted?"

She didn't even have to ask. It was like nothing I'd every experienced before. The sound was loud as her stream shot out on me. It was so fucking hot, damn. She was pissing on my hand, my dick, my body was getting wet with her pee. My dick got even harder than before and she was moaning so loud that I'm sure Vivian and Ezra could hear her clear as day. I moved my hand and she sat down hard on my dick and started grinding her pussy on me. Her stream seemed harder and I was trying not to bust a nut so fucking bad. The sound our bodies were making was driving me crazy as we were both getting wetter and wetter.

Imani looked sexier than I'd ever seen her before. She looked powerful and in control. She got up and walked over to the chaise lounge, that's what it's called, and spread her legs. "Come on Nowell, fuck me." I knelt at the foot of the seat and I stared at her pussy. It was swollen from being aroused and getting fucked and it was still wet with piss. I held her legs up, my fingers digging in to the back of her thighs. I pinned her knees back and before she could say boo, I was licking her pussy.

I couldn't believe I was doing it. I was tasting her pussy, wet with her fresh, hot piss. It tasted so damn good, sweet almost. Well, not exactly sweet but it tasted damn good, like her special gift to me. It was such a fucking head rush. She grabbed my head and pushed me away. I looked up and she had a glazed look in her eyes. Before I knew what was happening, I felt her piss hitting my chest. "FUUUUCK!" I stuck my tongue out and I instinctively tried to get it in her stream. She expertly stopped just before I could.

By that time, I was so turned on I couldn't see straight. I got between her legs and aimed my dick and . . . . "Nowell, wait."

Uhhh, whatever, I was not about to wait for shit, I was going to fuck her silly, stupid, ridiculous. She grabbed the base of my dick and said, "Wait . . . piss on me."

What the . . . ? The alcohol must have been going to my head because I could have sworn she said . . . nahhhh, I must have been hearing things. Sure enough, when I shook my head to clear the cobwebs, I heard it again. "Nowell, piss on me."

I sat back on my knees and I looked down at her. I glanced over at the window and I couldn't see Vivian and Ezra anymore. They could have been on the bed, on the floor, they could have been in the kitchen for all I knew. I can't piss with a hardon and I was all prepared to explain that when I heard, "Oooh, yeah, cover me with your hot pee. I want to feel it on my tits. Give me that hot golden shower."

I have never concentrated harder in my life in such a short period of time because somehow, within seconds, I willed myself to pee right there, hard dick and all. I controlled my flow with amazing skill, if I have to say so myself, and Imani luxuriated in it like it was a special treatment at her spa. She was holding her tits together and looking up at me and telling me how sexy it felt. She started sticking her tongue out, tempting me. I was frozen. Before I knew what was happening, she stuck her finger out and put it in the flow of piss and brought it to her mouth and started sucking it.

I lost it. I grabbed her hips and I pulled her to the end of the seat. I could see the drops of piss hanging from the tip of my slit and I rubbed them along hers. "Mmmm, fuck me, Nowell, fuck the piss out of me." I took her words literally and I rammed every inch in my dick inside her. She was soaking wet with slippery juices and the sounds of our fucking were accentuated by the slapping of our bodies together with the pee that was between us. I reached down and kissed her. I could taste the slightly salty sweet taste of my piss on her lips and I'm sure she could taste her own on mine. I went into overdrive and I was deep stroking, long stroking, hard stroking, I was working up a sweat.

Her nails were digging into my back and she kept chanting, "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," and all of a sudden, I could feel her pissing on me again. She was pissing while I was fucking her and she was nutting all over me. That did it and it pushed me over the edge. I pulled my dick out and shot my cum on her pee soaked, sweat stained stomach.

When I regained consciousness (don't laugh at me, shit, I was tired), I went into overprotective mode. 'Are you okay, are you alright?" I kept asking her if she was okay with everything that had happened.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the pool and dove in. I followed and we kissed and she held my face gently in her hands. "I'm more than fine. It's not something that I want to do every day, but I enjoyed it. It was really hot and sexy. I liked it."

The next morning, I was kicked out of bed at 7 AM to hose down the deck and clean up our mess. Apparently, Ezra had similar duties and was up a little after me, in the kitchen cleaning something in there too. I called Tracy and asked him how his night with Theresa went and he was damn near speechless. "Maaaan, you have no idea. All I can tell you is . . . it as wet and wild."

"Oh yeah," I said, "I can only imagine."

Copyright 2007 AfroerotiK

My Newfound Perspective (or My Grand Epiphanal Revelation)

I am largely discouraged by the state of emotional and spiritual evolution of the vast majority of people. My frustration stems from seeing my people tied to behaviors, beliefs, and slave mentality that keeps us dysfunctional. Even those of us who claim to be enlightened, conscious, and evolved have more often than not replaced one set of unhealthy behaviors for another, or, in some cases, haven’t replaced any of their mindsets, only changed their name to one that is Kemetic or African and kept on with their patriarchal, misogynist, Western, capitalist, religious dogma.

Black men are emotionally immature. I don’t know how many other ways I can say it, I don’t know how many examples I need to show to prove it. Not just the thugs and the rappers, not just the impoverished and imprisoned, but Black men socialized in our society have not been taught to process their emotions in a way that is healthy. Black women are complicit and complacent in a society that keeps them oppressed. They have been socialized to conform to standards that deny them their individuality, true womanhood, and freedom in lieu of speaking out, standing up, and raging against the systems that oppress us. Slave mentality exists at every end of the spectrum in ways that manifest itself differently depending upon one’s education and income but certainly no one is immune from its ugly reality. White people are suffering from what appears to be mass/group insanity and tied to their racists beliefs and holding on to them for dear life.

Therefore, going forward, I intend to divorce myself from the process of trying to educate, enlighten, debate, teach, or persuade anyone of anything. If you think that Black women are the reason the Black community has fallen apart, that’s cool. If you think that feminists have a plan to emasculate Black men, that’s cool too. If you think that Africans have a right to the US land because it’s been proven that they were here first and that Native Americans have no such claim, more power to you. From here on out, I will be polite and cordial to the masses and let them have their beliefs without questioning them. I will befriend the few and the rare whom I feel have achieved a certain amount of enlightenment with the hopes that they can help me on my journey for continual healing. I will celebrate the few Black men who are emotionally mature, I will champion the small percentage of Black women who are fighting the system of patriarchy, I will reach out to the infinitesimal minority of white people who are actively involved in divesting themselves of a fallacy of white supremacy. I will continue to write with the hopes that my words will have an impact and I will continue to lead my life in alignment with the principles and guidelines that set me apart from the masses with the hopes that I might be an example to some. That’s all I can do.

May 23, 2010

Scottie Lowe

Here's my foray into the BDSM world for people of color

A Twist of Fate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taja was enjoying the rough treatment. She was aroused by the way this man was using her and she was stimulated by the fact that he didn’t really let her control the action. She got into the blowjob and started trying to give him pleasure like she’d never done to anyone in the past. It was important for her self-esteem to think of herself as an object of desire and she got into sucking and licking like never before. It was the sloppiest, wettest, loudest blowjob she had ever given and even found herself moaning and enjoying it.

It was as if she didn’t have to pretend to be reserved anymore, like she had been conditioned to be; she could be a wanton, sexual slut, and that thought sent chills up her normally judgmental and conservative spine. She rationalized that he was forcing her to behave in this whorish manner and she let go of whatever beliefs that told her she was being a bad girl, she wanted to be naughty and, dare she admit it, submissive.

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

“Shit,” he cried out, the first word he had uttered all night, and he backed away.

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

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

She felt the bed shift as he climbed on with her. His hands began caressing her back gently, massaging her sore arm muscles again. Everything he did, he did with such tenderness and care, and it was at that moment that she first thought that her attacker could actually be her husband. “Phillip, is that you? Let me go. Stop this, this isn’t funny.”

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

“Count,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again,” he said again calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Promises, Promises

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Reach Around Hand Job XXX

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Roommates

By Tyree Thomas



I was stuck at home not doing a damn thing on a Friday night. No date. I had no plans to kick it with my friends either. I was bored as hell. The only thing that piqued my interest was to make some popcorn and watch a movie. However, the TV in the living room was going to get repaired tomorrow. I decided since my roommate was gone on her hot date for a couple of hours with her boyfriend that I’d go to her room to watch TV upstairs.


As I became engrossed into my movie for over an hour, I heard the front door slam and two sets of heavy footsteps climbing upstairs fast. Those footsteps were accompanied with some sensual moans and kissing. My eyes grew big as saucers. Shit! They came home early!!! She had no idea that I was in her room. I couldn’t make a mad dash back to my room because it was across hers. They were already upstairs. I quickly turned off the TV and hid in her closet with my bowl of unfinished popcorn.


The door flew open and my roommate and her boyfriend stumbled into the room kissing furiously. Clothes started flying off left and right and my senses were heightened from the voyeurism from the mesh panels of her closet doors. She always left her room dimly lit when she was away, but the lighting was enough to where I finally got to see my roommate’s beautiful nude body and well as her sexy boyfriend‘s. Her skin looked like mahogany silk. She had long curly hair, gorgeous large breasts, a small waist and a round, onion shaped ass. Her boyfriend’s body looked as though if it was carved out of stone: milk-chocolate complexioned, very tall, incredibly handsome, not too lean or muscular and long jet black locks that grazed his mid-back. My eye traveled down to his large dick. He looked like an African love god waiting to fulfill any and every lusty, sexual need. I always wanted to see attractive couples get their freak on right in front of my eyes without them knowing. It’s such a turn-on. Plus, I dreamed about eating my roommate’s pussy on many occasions. I’ve been attracted to her ever since we’d met three years ago when we first moved into the house. I never told her about my bisexuality, which I kept a secret to keep the peace.

They both started kissing and groping heavily until my roommate dropped to her knees and sucked her boyfriend’s huge dick. She looked like a porn star taking his entire length in her mouth. Then she tickled his balls with her long tongue as she stroked his cock. His hands were tangled in her hair and their sounds of satisfaction filled the room. I began to get wet from hearing and seeing all the action and licked my lips. The boyfriend stopped to lie down in the bed and have her to sit on his face while she continued to suck him off in the sixty-nine position. They both were at it for what seemed like an eternity. I immediately put my hand into my panties and closed my eyes. I rubbed my clit with the heel of my hand and fingered my pussy. Damn, I wished to join them. However, I didn’t realize that my moans were so loud that my roommate opened the closet doors and found me. Shit, I was cold busted! She told her boyfriend that she was amazed that they had an audience, based from how I was found and the bowl of popcorn sitting next to me. I was so at a loss for words. I started to explain my “what had happened was” moment until she knelt down and took the fingers from my pussy to lick them slowly. I became shocked but it soon turned to instant arousal. She told me that she and her boyfriend have talked about having me to join them in a threesome for awhile now. She quickly pulled me up to stand and took off my t-shirt and panties and laid one hell of a kiss on me. My roommate’s full lips and sensual tongue were what I imagined. I tasted her boyfriend’s pre-cum on my lips. I felt her hands wander all over my body. She said that she loved my curves and longed to feel my tits and ass. She dipped her head and grabbed my right nipple between her sexy lips and delightfully sucked on it. I closed my eyes and let out a sensual sigh. I had the chance to feel her soft, supple mahogany body that I dreamed about and placed hot kisses along her neck and chest as my hands kneaded her voluptuous ass. Her boyfriend sat on the bed and stroked his dick while he watched us. He then walked up and took his turn kissing and touching me as well. I ran my hands through his long, jet black locks as I kissed him. I tasted my roommate’s wetness on him. He told me that he fantasized about my beautiful mouth all the time whenever I talked to him and couldn’t wait for my lips to come into contact with his love stick. I instinctively caressed his dick and went back in for another French kiss. His long fingers ran down the middle of my back and it drove me wild. While her boyfriend and I were kissing, I felt my roommate kiss my neck from behind as she fingered my pussy with one hand the other was squeezing my breast. I groaned from the pleasure they gave me.




The next thing I knew, we all climbed into her king size bed. I rested on my back with my long legs open. My roommate climbed in between them. She ran her tongue down my thighs and proceeded to eat my pussy. She gave my clit a good tongue lashing. Her boyfriend came behind her and slid his dick into her wetness. She moaned against my clit from the contact, which sent chills up and down my body. Her tongue continued to flick over my love button and then her lips covered it to suck gently, which sent me over the edge. She also fingered my pussy while working on my clit. I started to feel the walls of my pussy tremble then throb hard from her working on me. The more she licked and sucked, the more I came. Also, her moans from her boyfriend’s thrusts made the sex hotter. We then switched positions. I don’t think words could truly describe how insanely happy I was to finally have my dream come true. I had her to lie on her back while I gave her the same attention she had given me. I kissed her deeply, tasting myself. I then cupped both of her gloriously full breasts and sucked her nipples until they became hard as pebbles. The scent of her perfume had me reeling. I kissed my way down to her stomach towards her pussy. My fingers gently opened her folds and I dove right in. I couldn’t get over her sweet, womanly scent combined with her boyfriend’s as I teased her clit with my lips and tongue. Her screams, moans and her head rolling back into the pillow were enough to know that I was doing just fine pleasing her. My roommate took her breasts and licked and played with her nipples as I resumed my oral play, gazing up at her from time to time. I felt her boyfriend rub my ass and he went on to tongue my hot wet slit. I let a soft moan out against her clit when he’d done that. I had died and gone to heaven. After several steamy minutes, my roommate and I came practically at the same time. We then shifted positions again. Her boyfriend was on his back, and she rode his dick reverse cowgirl-style, facing me. I loved watching her lovely face contort with every thrust her boyfriend gave and it looked incredibly beautiful. From there, I had every opportunity to help myself to her breasts, her clit and his balls with my hands, lips and tongue while they were fucking. The moans, groans and wet clapping of their sex together made one terrific sound. The smell of sex in the air was intoxicating. I lapped up every single drop of the both of them as if I couldn’t get enough.



Her boyfriend told us that he was about to come and wanted us to finish him off. My roommate and I got off the bed and knelt on the floor side by side. He stood in front of us while we took turns giving him head. I see why my roommate loved to suck his dick. It was long, thick and it felt awesome going in and out of my mouth. I savored the taste of both him and my roommate. Within a few minutes, his lips gave away a thunderous scream and he came all over my roommate’s tits as she held them up. I leaned in to lick some of his cum off of her breasts.



We all spent the entire weekend inside to have our sexual escapade for three. I think we’ve done nearly every position we could think of. We haven’t had the chance to reenact that night since our schedules have been extremely busy lately, but we have agreed to have a date night for three the next time.

Copyright 2010 All Rights Protected

Good for one Quickie

Print this out and present it to your lover and reap the rewards.

The Peak of Pleasure

The Fountain of Ecstasy

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Refuge

What Scottie Wants Too

Recently, I got an inquiry from a young lady who had some questions about my recent essay, What Scottie Wants (http://http://afroerotik.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-scottie-wants.html) I decided I would post her query and my replies here for all to see, discuss, digest, and debate.


I read with great interest the precis of your romantic history, findings of the study you conducted on yourself and the subsequent litany of requirements and expectations facing the next incumbent.

I would like to commend you on an extremely well written piece and for sharing your personal thoughts in such a carefully considered, open, clear and resolute manner.

In the spirit of debate, I have taken the liberty of adding my comments. I also have several questions as I found some of your statements thought-provoking and controversial. I would be most interested to read your responses at your earliest convenience:

While there is nothing wrong with knowing exactly what you want, do you think there is a possibility that treating these things as if they are a grocery list could hold you back from meeting the one for you? What is your success rate applying this new approach?

Do you believe you have opened your heart to more than just the perfect relationship?

I recently read an article on dating and agree with the author's assertion that it is important to have realistic expectations of oneself. The author encouraged me to think - I was born with what I have and try to make the best of it. That is all that matters- end of story. A lot of attraction is based in confidence and attitude. Do what makes me comfortable with what I have and never look back. I wholeheartedly agree with the author's advice that while I we should cut ourselves some slack in the expectation area, we should extend that consideration to other people. Do you, Scottie, expect one man to meet all your criteria? Do you think all those attributes exist in one person exactly as you define them? If such a man does exist, statistically, what do you believe are your chances of meeting him? And if you do meet this man - I would be particularly interested to learn what YOU have to offer HIM?

I think your first two stipulations are perfectly reasonable. I found your third regarding religion, interesting. I actually concur with your opinions on religion however, I was left wondering why you would find a partner affiliated to a major religion (as long as they are not a zealot) so offensive? Do you not consider it possible for YOU to have a successful relationship with someone affiliated to a major religion provided your partner does not try to recruit you to their religion or demean your own beliefs? What about men with affiliations to minor religions? What about a Satanist? Furthermore, would you consider an application from a man who neither shares your view that God is indescribable, scientific, all-encompassing nor believes the earth’s animals could fit on one Ark?

In your section which addresses interests and aptitudes - you mention your dislike of hip-hop which I agree much of is hugely degrading, offensive and misogynist. Would you be interested in a man who agrees with this too though enjoys reggae music some of which is extremely homophobic and misogynist. What about pop music - much of which is churned out by girls/women who have elected to degrade themselves. Heavy Metal music has long been attributed to the suicides of young people (e.g. Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana).

You say you desire a partner who has varied interest he can teach you about but that are not in conflict with your beliefs. Does this mean you are not open to ever changing your mind about something having learnt a new angle on a subject? Do you really mean by 'not in conflict with your belief' - 'be prepared to always agree with you?' This is a question, not an accusation.

You say you need someone in your life who is equally as committed to telling the truth, monogamy, doing what’s right even when it’s not easy, with respect for their family, who carries themselves with dignity, and who treats you with reverence at all times. You say you have learnt the hard way that compromising on someone who doesn’t see the value in honesty, integrity, and upstanding character will ultimately make you unhappy in the relationship. This is an excellent standard to set oneself but can you honestly say you deserve to be treated with reverence (a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe; veneration) at all times?

You say you would prefer that your man be a man of color, what color exactly doesn’t really matter to me. I will remain open to that man being white as long as he meets all my other criteria as well. Could you please define what constitutes a 'man of color' so I can understand what your preference is? If the color does not matter, how do you then explain having a preference?

I was not offended or outraged by your final pre-requisite - just intrigued and a little confused.

"If there is one thing that I’ve held fast to on my list, that hasn’t changed in the past few years, that has offended and outraged more people than any other thing on my list, is the fact that I require my partner to be openly bisexual. I require a man who has redefined his sexuality, who is comfortable with his sexuality, who is open to loving and being loved by another man"

You desire an openly bisexual man yet you also desire a man who is willing to be monogamous. How would that work? How can a man be monogamous (you said you require a man who is committed to monogamy) and be conducting sexual relationships with other men? You say you are willing to compromise on that depending on the person and the dynamics we share; if you find a partner who is all that you seek and he’s interested in maintaining relationships with other men, you will certainly entertain the conversation, see what sort of compromise you can come to that doesn’t hurt your feelings or leave him feeling unsatisfied - yet you have repeatedly said you are not prepared to compromise on any of your requirements. Why would you need to compromise anyway if you are actively seeking a bisexual man? You say you would like a man who is open to loving and being loved by another man. What about being loved by another woman?

You say you long since given up my need to be with another woman - just out of interest, why is that?

Another point - a man who can cry when he has to and not feel that’s a determinant of his manhood has absolutely nothing to do with sex and sexuality. My brother is gay and feels most uncomfortable about crying. What about women who find it difficult to cry if they need to - I know a few of those too.

I would be most interested to know what it means to be 'sexually progressive'. Sexually 'open' I understand but how does one 'progress' sexually in this context - I would like to understand the difference.

I very much look forward to hearing from you soon. Thank you again for giving me so much food for thought - I now have indigestion!

Here is my reply:

First, let me say that I usually have no reason or inclination to respond to individuals who question my preferences because they are just that, my preferences. If you don’t like my preferences or you have different ones, then so be it. I’m not trying to convince anyone that my preferences are ones that all people should adopt or that mine have more validity than anyone else’s. I am unique and I bring a certain set of talents, abilities, and dynamics to the table that require an equally unique mate. I find that most people who question my criteria, more often than not, posses a warped need to feel superior, so they condescend in order to try to tear me down or make me feel insecure about my preferences in a mate. Perhaps that’s not the case with you but I’ll entertain your spirit of debate because I don’t mind explaining myself for your benefit today. I’m quite confident in my choices and if you take issue with them or feel a need to question me or need clarification, I can play along.

If someone were shopping for a car and they said they needed a car that seated six comfortably that got 30 miles per gallon and had GPS navigation, On Star, side air bags, video monitors, Sirrus Radio, and came in Black, I suspect you wouldn’t question their preferences nor would you assert that they shouldn’t have a list nor would you try to demean them for the things that they prefer. Everyone has lists of what they want in a partner, some longer than others, some more superficial than others, some realistic, others not. Being specific about what you want is not a bad thing, whether it’s for an inanimate object or for a person. Trivializing my criteria for a mate down to nothing more than a “grocery list” takes nothing away from the fact that I have been in relationships, I’ve grown, I’ve taken the time to assess what works for me and what doesn’t. I’ve worked on myself and I’m clear on what sort of partner I desire in my life and with what sort of person I would be most compatible. It’s no different than you saying you want a three bedroom house with a garage, a finished basement, a corner lot, an updated kitchen, in a neighborhood with good schools, and a pool. If someone were to suggest to you that you shouldn’t have a list and that that list was standing in your way of actually getting what you want, you’d probably laugh and tell them to kiss your ass. If you find a great house and it doesn’t have a pool but there’s a community pool a couple blocks away, you, being a mature person, would reassess your list of must haves and adjust it accordingly. If an individual doesn’t have criteria for what he or she desires in a mate, they will settle for anyone and anything and their relationship will be doomed for failure. The Temple at Delphi cautions us to “Know Thyself”. I do, intricately and intimately. And armed with that knowledge of self, I have a list of things that are tolerable and other things that are not that form my wish list for a partner. Will I eliminate a great many people with my list? Yes, and that’s the point. I’m not interested in anyone who is average. Am I willing to compromise on my list? To a certain extent, yes. If I find someone who has 7 or 8 out of 10 things I want in a partner, I will certainly give them a chance. Will I lower my standards in order to appease the egos of people who try to assert that my list is unrealistic or too specific? Not a chance in hell. I didn’t say I wanted someone who was 6’3” tall who makes a million dollars a year and drives a blah, blah, blah type of car and who has a 10 bedroom home. I want a man whose intellectual, spiritual, social, sexual, and mental energies match my own. That’s not asking too much and moreover, I think everyone should be searching for a partner who matches them on those criteria, whatever levels or energies they may be.

I’m not looking for a perfect person, I’m looking for the perfect relationship FOR ME. I made it very clear that I’ve opened myself up to shades of gray when it comes to finding a partner. Yes, I want the perfect relationship for me as everyone should want, desire, and seek the perfect relationship for them. I desire a peaceful, harmonious, emotionally mature, committed, healthy, monogamous relationship. Why would I want something flawed and dysfunctional? I don’t think any person is perfect, including myself but that doesn’t mean I should have no standards for what sort of relationship I seek either or seek a relationship that doesn’t fulfill me.

There is not one thing on my list of criteria that I don’t possess. Again, I’m not looking for perfection within one person. I don’t expect him to be without flaw, I simply seek a partner whose flaws compliment and balance mine in such a way that we can form the bond that sets the stage for a long term relationship. My chances of meeting, connecting with, and establishing a relationship with my ideal partner are just as good as, if not better than Joe Blow average on the street. Yes, my dating pool is limited because I don’t want the average man and I have criteria that reduces the number of potential partners BUT I’m more prepared than most to form a healthy relationship; I’ve done more work on myself, I’ve refined, transformed, and evolved more than most people who meet someone in the online and form a relationship based on their own insecurities, flaws, and unresolved issues.

And since you want to question what I bring to the table, I’ll tell you EXACTLY why I will be a great partner for my future mate. I am a woman of unparalled integrity. I am a mother of a movement to educate and enlighten, to which I’ve dedicated and sacrificed my life, I am an outspoken activist, author, and caregiver. I posses above average intelligence and a kind, warm, giving heart. I have done the work on myself, I am fully aware of the triggers I have that set off my feelings of insecurity and abandonment. I am an excellent communicator, I have evolved past the lies and mistruths that shaped the consciousness of African Americans and I work diligently to dismantle the stronghold the chains of mental slavery possess over my people. I am a champion for the oppressed, creative, artistic, logical, well rounded, and I’m autonomous. I am not at all materialistic nor do I ascribe to the trappings of capitalism yet I’m sophisticated, classy, well-traveled, and down to earth. And to top it off, I’m together enough and comfortable enough in my own skin to not at all be intimidated by people who want to question me and what I bring to the table.

If someone believes in all the stipulations of the word’s major religions, if they have not ever questioned, investigated, or explored other truths, then I would be hopelessly doomed in a relationship with said person. I am an academic, I would not be happy, satisfied or fulfilled with a, shall we say, dim witted person. Equally, I cannot ever be satisfied with a person who believes God is a man and all the folk tales and mythologies of the major religions. If I meet someone who says that they were raised Christian and then questioned its tenants and decided that they were more comfortable as an Atheist or Zoroastrian or Pagan or whatever, I’m cool with that. Clearly, I’m not going to be with someone whose religion teaches hatred or human sacrifice or worshipping evil. It’s absurd to think that I would be enamored with anyone whose religious beliefs were in direct contradictions to my life’s mission but as long as they weren’t Christian I would be okay with it. I don’t need a person to believe the exact same things as I do but I can’t have a partner who believes in the fairy tales of Judeo/Christian oppression either. I thought I made that clear previously but apparently my writing skills aren’t as adept as I once thought.

Not every song in hip-hop is offensive, not every song is misogynist and degrading. There are even some hip-hop artists who are positive and conscious. Of course if I met a man who liked hip-hop and listened to the more enlightened artists, I would be fine with it. Perhaps I need to be more specific. REGARDLESS OF THE GENRE, I’m not going to date a man who likes, enjoys, or supports music that degrades my gender, race, sexuality, or any oppressed class. I’m always willing to learn but I don’t want a partner who is going to try to teach me the values of calling women bitches or how the bible is the only true living word of God. I want a mate who can expand my consciousness, who can help me grow and evolve, who can teach me things I’ve never been exposed to before, not who is going to argue with me over things I stand in firm disagreement with. I’m open and receptive to learning about art, music, the theater, food, wine, travel, metaphysics, science, philosophy and a whole host of topics that I don’t a thing about but are not in contradiction with my beliefs. Only the most self-centered person would assume that there can be a relationship without disagreement. I don’t desire a relationship fraught with conflict and arguments but I don’t arrogantly assume that there is going to be a utopian relationship where we only see each other as perfect all day, every day either. In my last relationship, my ex and I didn’t share similar philosophical beliefs at all and yet we never argued. We got along extremely well, even in stressful situations, we communicated our disagreements better than most couples have the knowledge or ability to do. It’s not a stretch to say that I’d like to be in a relationship with someone whose ideological beliefs compliment my own and we don’t have to argue and yet he can still teach me about things that are not in conflict with my core beliefs. I refuse to even address your assertion that I don’t deserve to be treated with reverence because every human being is deserving of being treated with awe and respect from the person with whom they share their life.

My preference is for a man of color, any color, who has a unique cultural identity different from the oppressive Caucasian standard by which men and society are measured. I desire a man who has a different history, who has different cultural practices of which he’s extremely proud and committed to preserving. I desire a man of color who has not been born with the unearned privileges of white men and who has struggled to maintain his unique identity in a world that wishes to erase, eradicate, and legalize homogeneity. I’m not attracted to men who have the disease of “whiteness” and the arrogance, condescension, and fallacy of supremacy that Caucasian men inherit. Whether he be Tongan, Incan, Aborigine, Eskimo, from the untouchable caste in India, or an undocumented Mexican, it doesn’t matter to me. The vast majority of the world’s population are people of color and I’m not attracted to the minority who belong to the race of people who participate in their oppression.

I am bisexual and completely capable of being monogamous in a relationship thus I don’t think it would be difficult to find the same in my partner. I have been with other women, I have loved other women, I have fucked other women, (very well in fact) and I don’t have a need to explore that part of my sexuality again. I will forever be attracted to women, certain women who match my criteria suffice it to say, and I will never give up my bisexual label, but if I don’t sleep with another woman again I won’t feel as if my life has been compromised or I’m missing out on something. I am not a man, however, and I don’t posses any of the things that a man can offer my mate. Therefore, if I meet a man who needs to feel the physical and emotional sensations he experiences when he’s with a man, then I must remain open to opening up our relationship to another man. Would I prefer that he sees me as the complete package to satisfy his sexual urges, of course, but I’m not sexually naïve enough to fail to recognize that even if I strap on and fuck my man in the ass, I’m still not a man and can’t give that intangible male thing that men have. If I were still actively attracted to women, I would expect my mate to be understanding of the fact that only a woman can provide certain stimuli for me, a certain softness, a certain ineffable “femaleness” that a man can’t provide. If I have a man who just wants other pussy, that isn’t going to work. A man who can’t control his sexual urges for variety isn’t a man I’m interested in nor would he be one I’m involved with.

I’m not attracted to emotionally stunted people, whether they be straight, gay, black, white, male or female. And since I’ve learned to anticipate your objections, I’m not attracted to emotionally stunted people of any race, creed, gender, religion, political affiliation, height, weight, or hair color. I’m not attracted to overly emotionally people either regardless of their sexual preference or chromosomal makeup or melanin content. I seek a balanced partner who can cry when he’s sad, angry, or hurt to release his emotions and who can move on, not wallow in feelings of self-pity, and experience an entire range of emotions in a healthy manner.

I desire a partner who not only can be open to exploring a myriad of sexual acts with me without feelings of guilt or shame but also who has no need to denigrate or denounce homosexual, bisexual, transgendered, asexual, or intersexed individuals for their preferences and practices either. Dare I say I even want him to be supportive of individuals in their search for sexual freedom and expression. That’s my definition of sexually progressive.

I certainly hope that clarifies things for you and that you find, meet and fall in love with your perfect partner as well.

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