Take my Breath Away

I was old enough to be her ghetto mama.  There were at least 13, maybe 15 years separating our births, but the attraction between us was strong.  Her skin was the color of the deepest ebony; she was BLACK and her skin was hot and soft to the touch.  To say she was sexy was an understatement.  She wasn’t sexy because she happened to be beautiful.  Her beauty was part of the package but it certainly wasn’t the only ingredient in her intoxicating blend of charms.  She oooooooozed sticky, sweet sensuality and feminine mystique.  That, combined with an odd elixir of pheromones, created a persona so confident, intelligent, and so goddamn unapologetic in the space she took up on earth that she was like a Goddess.  Every step she took was confident; her stride swayed with rhythmic cadence.  Her eyes were captivating and she used them like weapons, drawing you in and beguiling you with her charms. 

She hunted me like prey.  I wanted to resist her charms but I am, after all, only human and subject to weakness of the flesh and will.  I had not built up an immunity to her seduction.  I tried for weeks to dodge her advances but eventually, we were alone, in my apartment and I was a victim of her erotic wiles.  On my sofa, with nothing to distract us but the barely imperceptible crackle of the candles that bathed us in a soft, warm glow, we talked and touched.  She was in no rush and she was completely in control; I was just along for the ride and where we were going I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

“Here, put your head in my lap,” she instructed me and I quickly followed her command.  I felt warm and safe there, staring up at the ceiling as we conversed about life and love and the work of James Vanderzee.  The sexual tension in the air was so thick, so high and tight, that it put Kid’s flattop in House Party 2 to shame.  In silence, she caressed my body.  My nipples responded to the gentle touch of her fingertips on the exposed skin on the nape of my neck; my sighs were a response to her erotic manipulations. 

She placed her hand tenderly on my throat . . . and left it there.  With skillful ease, she began the most erotic massage of my neck.  Her stroke was sensual, soft, but it grew more firm and intentioned gradually.  The sensations I felt were new, exciting and her eyes never left mine and she began to apply the slightest pressure to my throat.  I was moaning, or I should say, I couldn’t help myself from moaning.  I was in an erotic trance.  I kept getting more and more aroused.  I didn’t understand what was happening; all I knew was that I didn’t want her to stop. I wanted and needed more.  Every time she would squeeze my neck just a bit harder I felt the blood rush to my head, it pulsed and throbbed but it wasn’t just in my head.  My pussy felt the sensations just as much.  I was in a trance, a daze from lack of oxygen and an excess of arousal. 

“More, I whispered,” and she responded in kind.  She grabbed my throat and started to squeeze harder.  The sensations in the back of my eyes, in my clit, were like nothing I’d ever felt before.  My body was thrashing around on the sofa and I was grabbing her hand with my own, trying to get her to squeeze harder, longer; I wanted her grip tighter.  She tormented with me her sexy talk, telling me how sexy I looked, how wet her pussy was getting seeing me so turned on.  This was the epitome of erotic asphyxiation; she was choking me, controlling me sensually.  I wasn’t for a moment afraid.  My life was in her hands, literally, and I felt so close, so exposed, so aroused. 

She knew how to control my breath and my body.  I was communicating to her with my eyes; telling her when to stop, how much pressure to apply; that I loved every second of it.  Eventually, I couldn’t control myself.  I unzipped my jeans and slipped my fingers to my engorged, sensitive clit and rubbed it in a circular motion.  I was so turned on, so completely soaking wet; I knew I wouldn’t last very long.  She knew I was about to cum as well and she held my throat and firmly in her hand and applied even more pressure.  I thought I was going to pass out.  I wanted to gasp for air but I couldn’t.  My body tensed up and . . .  orgasmic explosion and the breath of life collided in erotic bliss.

I never saw her again.  She drifted off into obscurity, out of my life but not out of my mind.  The impression she left on my throat was not nearly as lasting as the one she made in my memory.  To this day, that night remains one of the most erotic experiences of my life. 

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK

“But I like it!”

We are in a perpetual state of sexual dysfunction because we can’t have an informed, mature, logical conversation about sex and sexuality without one of two dynamics halting any forward progress.  The first is always the ever popular “Ewww, that’s nasty.”  People LOVE, love, love to insist that everything is nasty, everything is wrong, everything is inappropriate to discuss.  People have been socialized to have an obsessive need to shame, disparage, denigrate, and denounce anything, everything, and anyone who has the audacity to discuss sex and sexuality so that they can appear infinitely more holy, moral, chaste, and conservative than those highly inappropriate and morally-offensive sexual people.  For them, nothing is ever appropriate to discuss, everything is “too much information,” and dear lord, anything concerning sex besides vanilla sex on a Friday night with the lights out with your married opposite gender spouse for the sole purposes of procreation is DISGUSTING!

The vast and overwhelming majority of society falls into that category.  It’s how we are socialized as a culture.  It’s the default mode.  It’s unhealthy in that it negates and denies that people are, essentially and fundamentally, sexual beings.  It makes everything about sex dirty, bad and wrong and that is the recipe for sexual immaturity and dysfunction.  It’s immature, both sexually and psychologically.  But there is another side to the equation.  The other side of this very dysfunctional sexual coin are the people who say, in essence, “Well, it can’t be wrong if I like it.”  There is a defense mechanism that human beings have, it kicks in with all discussions of “right and wrong” that people defend whatever it is they like to the detriment of logic and reason.  If a person likes a particular behavior, activity, fetish, object, or fantasy, their mind won’t allow them to say that it’s wrong, because, in essence, admitting that there is something not quite right about a behavior they possess is admitting to the world, and to themselves, that they are flawed and people are just not emotionally mature enough to do that.  What we, collectively and as a society as a whole have done, is not allow people the safe space to say that they aren’t perfect, that there are areas of their lives that need to be worked on, that need to evolve and grow.  It’s created this stringent need to hold on to the patterns and behaviors that are unhealthy and we can rationalize and justify them because other, “Well, other people like it too.”  It’s our psychological safety net.  “I like it, so it can’t be wrong,” means, “I’m fine just the way I am, and if I’m comfortable with it, if I can admit to liking it, it means that it’s perfectly fine. It means that I’m perfectly normal and there’s nothing wrong with me.” 

Both positions prevent us from having healthy conversations about sex.  The visceral, violent reaction I got the other day from suggesting that the need to degrade or be degraded during sex was unhealthy is a prime example.  I’m going to use the same example to illustrate my point.  If there was an individual highlighted in the news who proclaimed that they enjoyed being bullied, or even abused by their spouse, that they go enjoyment and satisfaction from being beat up and harrassed, everyone without exception would say, “Wow, that poor person.  They are psychologically damaged.  That’s so sad.  I hope they get help.”  And people would be right for the most part.  I’m sure the motivation to appear superior to them would be at the base of most people’s comments but anyone who got emotional or psychological or even physical pleasure from being humiliated certainly has some issues they need to work on.  That wouldn’t be up for debate.  If someone were so bold and brazen, and presumably crazy enough to admit that they enjoy beating their spouse, that they get pleasure from bullying others, that didn’t find anything whatsoever wrong with beating up people because they got a sense of satisfaction from it, people would be ready to throw them under the jail.  There wouldn’t even be room for discussion.  Certain people were highly offended, however, because I suggested that the same behavior in the bedroom is unhealthy.  Because they like to degrade others sexually, because there are those who enjoy being degraded sexually, because the sexual degradation and humiliation of women is so common that it’s accepted as normal, because the BDSM community is so large, people were adamant that the behavior was just fine, there were no problems with it whatsoever, that I’m a fucking bitch for even suggesting that something is wrong with it. 

I’m a writer, I’m more than a writer however, I’m dedicated to shifting our perceptions of sexuality, to creating a healthier paradigm.  I can freely admit to liking, wanting, and being aroused by behaviors in my life that were unhealthy.  I’m not at all ashamed to admit that.  It’s part of my growth process.  It’s a sign that I’m evolving as a human being.  I am not content to hold on to belief systems that are unhealthy.  I’m also aware that my writing is a vehicle for promoting conversation.  The stories I write about degrading and humiliating white men are NOT my fantasies, they do not arouse me.  They are stories that I write for clients of my personalized, customized erotic stories.  They are divine (figuratively) opportunities for me to highlight the inherent racism of white culture and to provide white people an opportunity to see Black people in a healthier, more well-rounded light.  They are all written with the objective to shine a very ugly light on their objectification of Black sexuality and genitalia.  People respond to the messages they get when they are in a highly aroused state, they associate the things that are introduced to them during that state with sex.  I set the stage, as it were, for white men the world over to read and learn and understand that Black people are not just things for them to fantasize about but complex human beings who are more valuable than just our sexuality.  Read my interracial stories again and see if you don’t get that.  All the Black characters are empowered, autonomous, highly-intelligent and function as more than just props to get white men off. 

That being said, in my private life, I have been a Domme.  I have dominated, humiliated, and degraded white men in my personal life (not to the extent of the characters in my stories because I’m not that one-dimensional) but I would not only be foolish but I would be delusional if I didn’t acknowledge that the pleasure I got in seeing white men mentally and psychologically broken didn’t stem from the generations of oppression Black people have endured and it’s resulting effect that has had on my personal identity as a Black woman.  Just because I like it doesn’t mean that it’s healthy.  Just because the white men I’ve dominated liked it doesn’t mean that they are psychologically, mentally, emotionally, or sexually healthy.  Just because they have jobs and function in society well doesn’t equate to the behavior being healthy either.  Just because hundreds of thousands of people enjoy similar behaviors doesn’t mean that it’s healthy.  Just because the entire porn industry, society in general, and all the we know to be true and right and normal says that degrading, objectifying, humiliating, and abusing women sexually is okay doesn’t make it right or healthy. 

So, there are going to be people crawling out of the woodworks again to tell me how wrong I am, that I don’t know what I’m talking about, that it’s just my opinion and be sure to point out exactly how they think I’m contradicting myself with my previous writings.  There are going to be individuals who are going to insist that anything that happens between adults that is consensual is perfectly fine.  We are not talking about rape, we are talking about the need to degrade and be degraded; we are talking about the psychological factors that go into the sexual arousal associated with making someone feel less about themselves.  The discussion has to go beyond just what’s consensual to what’s healthy.  Everything that we do, regardless of its popularity, regardless of how accepted and isn’t evolved, isn’t moving us towards healing our collective sexuality. 

Sex is about more than just lame baby oil and a massage.  I intentionally write about sexual acts beyond the fringe, beyond what’s vanilla and plain and boring.  I write about strapon sex from a point of love and giving pleasure.  It’s passionate and vigorous but it’s NOT about degrading one’s partner, it’s not about power or control, it’s not about degradation and humiliation.  I write about watersports.  I write about lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered individuals who enjoy sex in a way that celebrates them as sexual beings.  And if I do write about something that might appear to the superficial reader to be about something that I’ve said is unhealthy, you can be assured that I’m doing so in a way that promotes discussion about how to move to a healthier way to relate to one another. I am meeting people where they are at.  Look deeper and see that I’m writing about a way for people to see sex as being compromised of a whole host of things that are exploratory, adventurous, and beyond vanilla that are in no way associated with devaluing a person’s worth or identity.  I address people’s unhealthy behaviors and I lead them to a way that is healthier with my words. 

Sex should be about being expressive, passionate, emotionally honest, it should be about pleasure.  There are tons of things that are included under that umbrella, that indicate a healthy way to look at sex that go way, way, way beyond what puritanical society tells us is acceptable.  “But I like being called a slut and a whore during sex, I like being slapped and having my hair pulled.  It turns me on.”  Women who enjoy being degraded during sex, ask yourself, why is it okay to like being degraded during sex with behaviors that you would absolutely, positively NOT be okay with outside of a sexual situation?  What about the act of sex makes being slapped and called names okay, arousing even, that you would not tolerate outside of a sexual situation?  Is it because you learned that being sexual was bad, that you need to be punished?  Is it because some dude called you a name during sex when you were younger, when you were in a highly aroused state, and your subconscious mind associated that behavior with sex?  They are hard questions.  It requires you look at yourself and your behaviors in a way that most people are unwilling to do.  It requires a level of introspection and soul-searching that will make you challenge your belief systems and maybe even admit that all the things you like aren’t completely healthy.  Most people will hit a brick wall, their brains won’t let them even process the questions because it will put them in a place of maybe, quite possibly, having to admit that they aren’t perfect. 

Men who enjoy degrading women during sex, there’s nothing under the sun I can say to you that will make you question your motives or behaviors.  You are trapped in your pathos and you won’t be moved.  Patriarchy and misogyny are so deeply ingrained in our society there’s nothing that anyone could say to make you challenge your belief systems.  But, maybe, there is a woman out there, with God’s graces, there will be a few women, who will say to themselves, “Why do I think it’s wrong for me to pleasured, pampered, and seduced?  Why do I not feel deserving of extended foreplay and tenderness that leads up to indescribable passion?  Why do I need to be called names during sex and why do I think that’s arousing?”  Perhaps there is one woman somewhere reading this who will start to question why she needs to be slapped and abused in order to feel arousal, or why being with someone’s husband feels more exhilarating, or she will start to ask herself if she’s worth more than the $100 she’s getting to have sex with someone who doesn’t value and respect her as a person.  With any luck, she will start to unravel the layers of her sexuality that have created her to be the woman she is and she will, one day, when you start calling her a slut and a whore, tell you that you cannot call her names just to boost your ego, you cannot slap her, choke her, spit on her, that she wants more than just her back blown out and she will feel deserving of asking for being pampered, catered to, and adored BEFORE she gets to the hot and sweating fucking that will make her eyes roll back in her head.  Perhaps. 

Copyright 2013 Scottie Lowe

"You Fucking Cunt!"

I absolutely and vehemently believe that the act of deriving pleasure from degrading, slapping, choking, inflicting pain, humiliating, calling someone names, and using sex as a form of power comes from a place of low self-esteem.  It is my unwavering belief that the person who is driven to perform those sorts of acts to someone else does so to boost their own sense of self, not from a place of true power or benign sex play, but the need to objectify and demean someone else comes from a need to feel more empowered, to make themselves feel worthy, to feel superior to someone because there is something inherent in them that feels inferior.  It’s not psychologically healthy to want, need, or get pleasure from making someone else feel worthless or even inflicting pain on someone.  Conversely, it has to be said that the need to be and the act of deriving pleasure from being called names, degraded, humiliated, objectified etc., comes from an unhealthy psychological place as well.  There is something collectively wrong with our society that it creates people who both need to degrade and need to be degraded. 

Queue the entire BDSM community and people on both sides of the equation who are unwilling to look at their behaviors as unhealthy.  They will defend their behaviors as normal and rationalize that there is absolutely nothing wrong with their preferences.  Even average Sue and Sally who get aroused at being called a slut and a whore during sex will claim feminist status for this issue alone and defend her right to be choked and slapped as her right.  And it is her right.  But that doesn’t mean that it comes from a psychologically healthy place.  Western society is set up to reinforce to men who get off on degrading and humiliating women that it’s their right as manly MEN (grunt grunt) to slap women around and pull them by the hair, that it’s the way God with a penis wants things to be.   And men who desire to be subjected to degrading and humiliating behavior sexually are so conflicted that they will never acknowledge publically that is a desire or preference because that will mean that they will be seen as less than a real man.  NO ONE wants to acknowledge or give credence to the notion that there is something unhealthy, dysfunctional, or psychologically damaged about the way they view and experience sex.  No one wants to admit that, Goddess forbid, that there may be something “wrong” with them. 

I don’t think, in fact I KNOW that the fault doesn’t lie in the individual but society in general that doesn’t reinforce, teach, and structure healthy self-esteem into our children.  We, collectively, are doing something tragically and detrimentally wrong in the way we are raising our children.  We are shaming out children about sex and sexuality.  It’s manifesting itself in unhealthy behaviors behind closed doors as adults and the system is set up to keep things just as they are.  Patriarchy is unhealthy.  Corporal punishment is unhealthy.  Whatever is it that we do to raise our children where they can’t grow up to see their inherent worth, beauty, and divinity and say, “No, I don’t find it arousing to be disrespected,” or “No, I don’t need to slap, choke, or degrade someone in order to feel better about myself,” is WRONG. 

Our culture is set up to reinforce that sex is dirty and bad and wrong and shouldn’t be discussed in any way.  The entire system is set up so people refuse to acknowledge that there might be a better, healthier way to have sex and that this whole concept that WHATEVER we do is just fine as long as we don’t have a problem with it.  This puritanical, right-wing, close-minded, oppressive system of shaming people about their sexuality is set up so that even the people who like things that are sexually dysfunctional can pretend to be outraged, offended, and disgusted by even the mere mention of the word sex.  We don’t know how to determine what’s healthy and what’s unhealthy because we can’t even have a conversation about sex in any meaningful way without the slut-shamers, the bible thumping holier-than-thous, and the “I’m fine just the way I am, you can’t tell me,” contingency INSISTING that nothing is wrong with the way we are dealing with, addressing, and looking at our sexuality.  There has to be a better way. 

There IS a way to relate to each other in a healthy, enlightened, erotic, sensual way that doesn’t involve degradation and humiliation.  We can explore sexuality in a myriad of ways, far beyond vanilla, boring, unimaginative sex, that doesn’t involve the objectification of one partner to get our rocks off.   

Copyright 2013 Scottie Lowe

Rethink What You Know

Being Selective:

As sexually liberated as I am, I don’t want to do EVERYTHING with all my partners.  I wouldn’t say that I pick and choose what men I do certain things with but I do not give away my goodies casually.  Not every partner is deserving of everything I have to offer.  Especially if his motivations are not pure or transparent.  My partners and I get tested prior to having sex so it’s not about the higher risk for HIV.  It’s about the fact that it’s something so intense and explosive and thrilling and I don’t want to share that with just anyone.  I want to explore anything and everything with my partner.  I want to experiment and find new and exciting ways to please my partner and I’m always looking to introduce new levels of play with my partners.  I don’t, however, have casual sex, friends with benefits, or fuck buddies so I’m vastly different than most people in that anyone who is invited to share my most sacred space only gets an invitation because he has passed my very rigorous standards.  Were I to have casual sex partners, I would certainly not be motivated to give them my most erotic self; I would limit that to only the partners who had proven themselves to be exceptional. 

Swallowing:

If I’m in a relationship with my partner, I don’t have a problem swallowing my man’s ejaculate.  That being said, unless his diet is vegan and he takes extra precautions to eat well, drink water, drink pineapple juice etc., ejaculate doesn’t taste great.  It’s not the worst thing in the world but it’s certainly doesn’t taste like pussy, that’s for sure.  Most of the men I date at this stage in my life are in their 50s.  They don’t have the recovery time they had when they were in their 20s.  Cumming more than once a night is not very likely for the men I date.  That being said, at this stage in my life, I’d rather save that nut for our intercourse if we have time and energy.  If we’re out and I’m giving him head as a special treat or it’s something I want to do just to please him, I don’t have a problem swallowing at all.  The problem becomes when most men hold a woman’s head to force her to swallow.  I say, if you want me to swallow your nut, you need to be able to show me that you will eat it too.  If it’s disgusting to you, and you want eat your own, then don’t expect me to swallow it.  Most younger men are selfish.  They only think about their pleasure and they will hold a woman’s head to force her to swallow or they will cheat on a woman if she doesn’t swallow in order to appease their ego.  That’s where the problem lies. 

Satisfaction:

I would like to think that women and men will eventually come to understand that when they allow themselves to be emotionally open, honest, and vulnerable with a partner, when they expose their secrets, when they open their hearts and souls to loving and being loved that they will experience greater pleasure than just a maintenance date or a casual fuck.  Satisfaction comes from being able to tell all your sexual secrets to another person and knowing they still love you, want you, crave you.  Satisfaction comes from pouring out your heart and soul to someone and being able to be emotionally nude and go to a place where you don’t have to hide.  Most people assume that satisfaction and pleasure comes from some magic nut that makes you lose your mind.  We are sexually immature when we look at sex that way.  There will always be someone with a bigger dick, a bigger butt, someone more attractive, that’s not where satisfaction lies.  Satisfaction is in the connection and the bond and the unadulterated intimacy you form with your partner.  Once you get that, you won’t want to look for anyone else to satisfy you. 

Individuality:

What every woman wants in sex is different.  It should be based on her own body and turn ons.  I crave creativity, sensuality, eroticism, a willingness to go beyond just a pump and dump.  I want seduction and passion.  I want a slow, simmering building of extended foreplay that leads to mind-blowing sex.  I look for a partner who is committed to being honest.  That turns me on.  Fuck, that makes me explosive!  I’m definitely NOT looking for someone who thinks that blowing my back out is going to make me come back for more or someone who doesn’t care about me as a person.  I look for a man who is expressive.  He needs to be able to talk in bed and more than just saying, “Whose pussy is this?”  He has to tell me what turns him on and why.  He has to tell me what makes him feel good.  He needs to be able to communicate to me in very explicit terms what he is experiencing in the moment. 

Making Love:

Most men think that making love is fucking slow.  That’s not making love, that’s pretending to be tender when you really want to be blowing a woman’s back out.  Making love is being in love with my partner and having mind-blowing sex with him.  It can be fast, slow, it can be vigorous and rough.  If we are in love with each other, it’s making love.    I want to fuck like animals with the person I’m in love with.  That’s making love.  The connection is what makes it making love, not the pace at which the man pounds the woman. 

Inhibitions:

I’m not at all sexually inhibited and I haven’t been since I was in my 20s.  Most of what I had to overcome then was just insecurity about my body.  I was tall and skinny but somehow, I felt that I was fat and out of shape.  I think every woman goes through the counting stage.  You count the number of men you have sex with because you don’t want to hit that number that makes you a slut, whatever that number is for you.  Once I hit my 30s all my minor inhibitions disappeared and I was completely comfortable with my sexuality, what I wanted, what I needed, what I asked for, and how to get it.  Most people, and by that I mean men who want to fuck me and women who want to condescend to me because I’m not promiscuous, think I’m inhibited because I refuse to have casual sex.  I’m not slut shaming women who want to have multiple sex partners at all.  FOR ME, I choose not to share my most sacred space with undeserving me.  That’s not being inhibited, that’s being selective, having standards.  With my partner I’ll do anything and everything that we choose to explore as long as it’s consensual. 

Freaky:

Black people LOVE to throw the term freak around.  Sadly, pathetically, the term is used in place of meaning healthy sexuality.  There is nothing freaky about liking sex, wanting sex, or enjoying sex.  Unfortunately, because Black people are sooooooo incredibly sexually immature, they associate enjoying sex with being freaky. Even Black people who claim to be freaks are sexually conservative.  Most times they don’t like anything other than regular oral/vaginal sex and at times anal.  Being expressive with your partner isn’t freaky, it’s normal.  Exploring different fantasies with your partner isn’t freaky, it’s normal.  Wanting to open up your relationship and be poly isn’t freaky, it still falls within the realm of healthy sexual expression with your partner.  Freaky is wanting to mutilate your genitals for sexual pleasure.  Freaky is being aroused by inanimate objects more than human beings.  There are a whole host of things that are abnormal and extreme that are freaky but Black people are not into any of them for the most part.  As long as we identify ourselves as freaks for liking sex we are sexually stunted and immature.  I am sexually empowered.  I am sexually expressive.  I’m sexually mature.  I’m not a freak for enjoying pleasure.  I’m not a freak for wanting to explore sexuality with my partner.  I’m not a freak for liking more than vanilla sex on a Friday night with the lights out.  There is nothing freaky about my sexuality. 

Horny:

When I’m insatiable, when I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin with desire, when I can’t focus on anything but sex, I feel like a laser, everything is centered on the sensations of pleasure.  I crave stimulation.  I need visual stimulation, I need physical stimulation, I need the pleasure that comes from the journey, not the destination.  For me, when I get in that zone, I’m all about the sensations that come from arousal, I don’t really want the nut so much.  I want the pleasure to last as long as possible.  I never feel tense or evil or anything negative.  I feel a certain amount of frustration that I don’t have a partner with me to help me express my sexuality but that’s secondary to the sensations of wanting my nipples played with, wanting to revel in the sensations of my clit being stimulated, in feeling my wetness flow.