Nature's Feasts

Round Midnight

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

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

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

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

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved

Faking It

I was socialized to fake orgasms. I don't know how. No one ever said to me, “When you are having sex with a man, you need to cater to his ego and make him feel like he’s the best lover in the world,” but I swear that’s the thought going through my mind every time I do it.  . It's something in the way we socialize girls/women. I don't know what the something is, but it's prevalent. I swear I'm NEVER going to fake an orgasm again, and then, I always do it to boost their egos. I can't even stop myself sometimes. If, me, Miss Healthy Black Sexuality, can't help but fake it, it's an epidemic for sure because most women aren't self aware enough to know that they are faking it. 

Most women don't know the difference between getting wet and having an orgasm. I hear it all day, every day. "Oh, I came from him just kissing me." That's not an orgasm, that's arousal.  And I dare say that most men have never even been given a basic primer course on women's bodies to know how to make them orgasm. I met a male escort, a man who made his living having sex with women, and he had NO CLUE where a woman's clitoris was. He was pointing to the hood and calling that her clit. How can a man give a woman an orgasm if he thinks her hood is her magic button? Thus, a whole lot of faking is going on. 

I faked every orgasm until I was in my twenties and I didn't even know it because I had never had an orgasm before. And this was LONG before the advent of porn at your fingertips. Today, children are seeing porn on average at 10 years old, some even younger. They are being socialized to yell and scream and call out to God before they come close to having sex.  Plenty of girls can masturbate and do not know how to give themselves an orgasm. I sure as hell did something up until the age of 24 or 25 and I thought I was having great sex. I remember the first time I had an orgasm and I was like, "Are you serious? That's what I should have been feeling all along?"

If a dude tells me he has given a woman five orgasms in one night, I run the other direction because 9 times out of 10, she was faking and he has NO CLUE how to truly please her.  And with men addicted to porn these days, they think that pounding away is what gives a woman an orgasm. They have NO concept of what real foreplay is or how to do anything other than "hit it". When most women tell them that they are doing a great job and yelling and screaming how great it is, they will never learn either. 

In my last relationship, I think I faked it 50% of the time. The sex felt good but I didn't cum and I just yelled and pretended I was out of habit. He wasn’t a bad lover at all.  He certainly wasn’t a great love either.  He was a one trick pony in that he knew how to fuck like a rabbit and he thought that was his calling card.  He had a little dick and he was plagued with low self-esteem so he needed to call (other) women names and slap them and degrade them to feel more like a man.  Was he sensual, tactile, erotic, spontaneous, creative, tender, or anything that would make him a truly great lover.  Not even close.  His techniques were what he learned when he was 14 and pounding away at whatever little girl got hot and bothered and he didn’t mature past that stage.  I’m guilty of letting him think he was a much better lover than her really is.  For whatever reason, I just go into “faking mode” and start screaming that I’m cumming and I’m really just feeling the pleasure of penetration, not a real orgasm.  It's a hard habit to break. 

I have had numerous women, too many to count women, tell me, "I can't have an orgasm with a man unless he's 10 inches or bigger." First and foremost, the number of men who have 10 inch penises is so small that they it's virtually impossible to meet more than one man with an appendage that large, let alone a succession of them. What most men call their 10 inch penis is really about 7 inches, which is larger than average but significantly smaller than almost a foot. Second, a woman's G-spot is located about 2 inches inside her vagina. You don't need a foot of dick to reach that. What women feel as the pleasure/pain of having their cervix hit by a large penis is what they are calling an orgasm. Again, knowledge of women's bodies . . . none. And 3. brothas with very average and sufficient penises at around 5 or 6 inches are feeling inadequate and ashamed when they are perfectly capable of providing a woman pleasure but they try to overcompensate by hitting it and stabbing it and killing it and all the things men with larger endowments do in porn. I can't handle the myths, lies, and dysfunction anymore and we need to talk about the issues that are debilitating to us as a community and in almost every instance, it comes back to our views on sexuality.  We have to start having more empowered, enlightened, and informed conversations. 

Do Unto Others

On Sunday night at the Billboard awards show, Miguel, in a very misguided attempt to outperform the other artists, jumped over the crowd and landed on a woman, snapping her neck back.  Within minutes, the entire Black internet community was creating memes about it, making fun of it, laughing at her pain.  First and foremost, and hear me clearly, just like your grandmother used to tell you, it is not funny to laugh at someone else’s pain.  It’s simply not funny.  She wasn’t walking down the street when she stumbled over a crack, she could have been seriously injured, paralyzed or killed even.  There’s nothing comical, funny, amusing, or entertaining about someone being hurt.  I almost can’t believe I have to say it but if you don’t want it happening to you, or someone you love, and you wouldn’t appreciate someone laughing about it if it happened to someone you know, you shouldn’t be laughing at it.  We, as a society and culture have de-evolved to the point of insanity, where it’s funny to laugh at someone being hurt.  That’s sick and it’s sad.  The tenants of every world religion says “Do unto others.”  But what’s MORE disturbing is the number of people who justified, rationalized, and defended laughing at her pain.  There is something tragically wrong with a society where people can’t say, “Hey, you know what, I was wrong, I’m sorry.”  And finally, the entire situation was sexist.  “Bitches be like, Tricks be like, Chicks be like.”  What did she do to deserve being called a bitch?  Standing near the stage was her crime?  If he had landed on a male, the commentary would have been about how Miguel needed a beatdown.  Black people, we should be ashamed of our collective behavior and sadly we aren’t.  We are doomed as a people if we can’t show the most basic compassion and empathy. 

Anticipation

There is a law, a universal law, that is the comprised of time and chemistry and desire.  When all of those elemental forces are combined, they create a world-wind of desire and mind-numbing anticipation.  It’s “The Wait” . . . it’s my overwhelming need to experience you completely, in your entirety.  It has consumed me.  My thoughts and fantasies are filled with the need to be with you, to feel you inside me, to become one with you.  I know the day will come when I will be able to know you intimately but the anticipation is driving me insane.  We have played this game long enough.  Now is the time.  Now is OUR time.  Late at night, when I hear your deep and sensual voice on the phone, and your gentle moans let me know that you are aroused; it’s all I can do to contain myself.  I want you; I need you.  

I long to feel your mouth on every part of me.  Descend upon me like the warm waters of the Nile River bathing the shores of ancient Egypt.  Please, sweet Pharaoh, I’m begging you to take your time.  My desire is to be covered with your sweet kisses as I feel your body press into mine.  I need to feel your lips exploring every curve, every crevice of my caramel-colored frame with exacting and excruciating detail.  That place on my collar bone that protrudes ever so slightly longs to know the feel of your tongue as if they were made to be together.  Feast on my arms, my fingers, my back and neck with the patience of a skilled surgeon and the desperation of a man consumed with lust.  I want you to tell me how it feels as you learn what makes me giggle and squirm with pleasure and delight, kissing your way gently down my body.  I want you to smell my sweet, intimate fragrance like the rare and exotic flower it is.  I want you to take your time caressing the softness of my inner thighs with your mouth, being near my glorious center but knowing it is truly your dessert and savoring every morsel of your meal before you delight in my delicious confections. 

For years I have dreamed of the day when you would become mine.  I don’t wish to possess you like an object but simply be allowed to share in the uniqueness you embody.  I promise that if you play with my nipples until I am burning with passion, I will become insatiable and ravenous to your touch.  I need you to spread my legs as I invite you to explore my erotic folds of femininity and tease my aroused clit gently and softly, ensuring that I whimper and plead for satisfaction and release.  Feel the slippery wetness of my arousal for you, letting you know that I crave you inside me.  Know that my juices will taste like the sweetest honey and wine, intoxicating you with my flavor and flowing freely. 

Mostly, at night, when I’m in bed alone, I fantasize about that moment, that breath-taking sensation when you penetrate me and we become one.  I have wanted that and waited for so long, for far too long.  Now is our time.  I want to give you all of me, not just my body but my heart, mind, and soul.  I belong to you.  I need you to make love to me.  Penetrate me, slow and intentionally, deep and hard.  I want to feel every hot, hard, throbbing inch of you inside me.  I will wrap my legs around you and pull you closer as you breathe new life into me with my kisses.  This is our time; we’ve waited long enough.  I want to get lost in the pleasure of being your woman, being connected to you by the gift so few men have been given.  I’m dripping with desire for you and I am wet and desperate and ready for our union, our reunion really, of our spirits connecting and our bodies colliding in unison and ecstasy. 

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved