Filling the Void

Who would have thought that after a year of sitting at home alone, I would be on a date? Not only a date, but a date with a great guy. I’d been standing in the grocery store, minding my business, when the gentleman in front of me turned around and said, “Can you watch my daughter for two seconds, I just need to run and get some Pampers, right there.” He pointed to the aisle directly behind us and then his toddler. She was wearing the cutest little t-shirt with Kente embroidery on it and the brightest smile you’d ever want to see.

“Sure, go ahead.” No sooner than her father walked away, the little girl stood up in the cart and made a lunge for the candy, trying to leap like she was the star acrobat in the UniverSoul Circus. I grabbed her just in time before she took a big spill on the floor. “Slow down there little lady.” Rather than her being scared by a stranger, she fit in my arms perfectly and started playing with my earrings and talking to me quite fluently in little girl baby talk.

By the time her father came back, he was apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Let me guess, she made a dive for the candy. I don’t let her have sugar and her mother does so we go through a period of withdrawal every time it’s my time for custody.” She was smiling at me with this little innocent, angelic, brown face and all I could do was come to her defense.

“Nooooo, she . . . it wasn’t like that. She was just , , , “ I wasn’t very good at lying and I just stopped in mid sentence. “What’s your name, Princess?”

She told me her name quite promptly. I didn’t understand what the heck she said but at that point, she was focused on my necklace and jabbering away about something I’m sure only another two year old or a parent could understand. “Her name is Shakhari, and she is indeed my little princess. I’ll take her back now, thanks.” Shakhari was having none of that and she grabbed my neck and laid her sweet little head on my shoulder. “I share joint custody with her mother and when she lives with me, my brother, and his two sons; she’s the only woman in the house. She has a need for female bonding that defies logical thinking. That estrogen is some powerful stuff, right?”

“It’s okay, I’ll hold her, go ahead, it looks like you could use an extra hand.” While Daddy was unpacking the cart, getting his super savings card swiped, and paying, I was checking him out; he was actually very cute. He had a full beard and a delicious looking chocolate complexion and a shopping cart full of health food. I whispered in Shakhari’s ear, “You know, your Daddy is pretty handsome.”

That must have been the magic phrase because almost immediately Shakhari wanted to go back to Daddy and she reached out to him. He scooped her up and kept loading his cart with the bags like he was the featured juggler with UniverSoul. Right before they were ready to leave, he said, “Say goodbye to the pretty lady, Shakhari.” She blew me a big kiss and I could hear her saying bye-bye over and over until they were well beyond the automatic doors.

I paid for my groceries and made my way to the parking lot. I was putting my groceries in the back seat and still thinking about Dad and that sexy smile when I heard someone say, “Excuse me.” I looked up and it was Dad. “I didn’t get your name. I’m Vernon; I wanted to thank you for taking care of my little lady. I was wondering if . . . Do you think it would be okay if I gave you my number and you could give me a call . . . that is if you aren’t married or seeing someone or anything. Sorry, I’m not very good at this. I haven’t dated in a long while so I’m a little out of practice. I’m sorry.”

I extended my hand, “I’m Deborah, nice to meet you. There’s no need to apologize.” He handed me his business card with his home and cell phone numbers written on the back. A week later I was on a date with him, sitting at a table staring into the dreamiest eyes possible and pinching myself that he was so amazing.

The chemistry was just there, it wasn’t forced or anything, we just seemed to connect. He told me that he’d moved to the area two years ago, a little before Shakhari was born, and his pregnant girlfriend at the time had no intention of moving away from her family, and they had no plans to get married. “I got a chance to really make a difference,” he explained, “so when my brother told me they were opening an Office of Minority Affairs in the county, and were looking for someone to head it up, and he could get me an interview, I jumped at the chance. Janet is a massage therapist on a cruise ship for 3 or 4 months at a time so it works our perfectly that I can take Shakhari, my brother and his two teenage sons are the perfect babysitters whenever I need them. When she is with her Mom, I feel like my entire life is on hold.” He explained to me that he’d largely gotten caught up in his ex’s looks and while he could have made better choices in a partner, and used a lot more precaution, i.e. protection, he was making the best of the situation and being the best father he knew how to be.

The more we talked, the more attracted I was. Sure, we’d talked on the phone, gotten to know each other a little bit before the date, but there was something about being in his presence, smelling his cologne, seeing those shoulders, just being in the company of a man that was intoxicating. I told him my sad story, of how I’d let myself love a man who didn’t love me and how it had fucked with my self esteem so I’d been alone for a while, just trying to work on myself. Isolated was a better term for it. I’d sort of shut myself off from the rest of the world to figure things out and make sense of it all. Usually, when you admit flaws to a man, they run 100 yards in the opposite direction but Vernon was hanging right in there with me, it didn’t seem to disturb him in the least. I could tell from his actions and his words that he was really interested in finding a woman of substance, which is rare. Most men are looking for a woman of beauty, who won’t question them or demand anything of them. He explained that after Shakhari was born, he was intent on finding a great role model for his daughter and a great partner with whom he could build a life together. Boy was I glad the recipe I was using called for shallots that night and I had to run to the store.

After dinner, we walked hand in hand by the bay, looking out over the water and up at the stars. We sat on a bench for a while and watched the other couples walk by, kissing and hugging, feeling each other up as if no one could see what they were doing. I got a little chilly and he gave me his jacket and put his arms around my shoulders. It was getting late but I was in no rush to end the date so I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place for a drink.

I had no plans on having sex with him; I just wanted to appreciate his company a little more. Vernon was picking out music in the living room while I was in the kitchen getting out the glasses and opening the wine. All of a sudden it hit me that I had made a huge mistake. Wine, music, alone in my apartment. Duh, that meant SEX! Hot, buck naked, sweaty sex. My hands started shaking and I couldn’t even hold the bottle opener steady. I was trying to figure out a way to put a stop to the whole thing, call it off, ask him to leave, when Vernon came in the kitchen and said, “Deborah, is everything alright? Here, let me help you with that.”

He intentionally stood behind me, pressing his body against mine, and wrapped his arms around me, placing his hands on top of mine, and opened the bottle. My heart was racing out of my chest. I could feel the fullness of my ass against him, his chest against my back, his arms were strong but his hands were gentle. I closed my eyes and laid my head back against his chest for a moment and just stood there. He started massaging my shoulders, and he said, “This is nice, thank you for inviting me over.” I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear and in that moment, I felt like a woman. I am a woman of course, but when you spend so much time alone you don’t get a chance to FEEL like a woman. I leaned back into him fully, subconsciously rubbing my ass on him, and I could detect the slightest movement in his pants.

That’s when panic hit me. What the hell was I doing? I wiggled out from between the counter and his body and decided that I was going to gain full control of the situation. I was going to fake a headache and call it a night but Vernon beat me to it. “Whoa, look at the time,” he said! “My nephew has rugby playoffs tomorrow and I have to get home to uhmmm . . . take care of things, to get ready. I mean I need to get up early to get the kids ready and . . . well, I better get going.” He was trying to discretely reposition himself and scramble for his jacket to put in front of him.


I walked him to the door and we said our goodbyes. I guess neither one of us knew what was the appropriate thing to do. The date was awesome, there was chemistry out of this world, but we were both out of practice in the romance department. We stood at my doorway and saying what a great time we both had and how we should do it again soon. I knew good and damn well that I wanted a kiss. I could tell he wanted a kiss too. He stood there stalling for another minute until finally I just put my arms around his neck, leaned in close and closed my eyes.

The next thing I felt were his lips pressed softly against mine, his tongue softly exploring my mouth. He pulled my body tightly to his and I cupped his face in my hands. His hands explored my back and the further down they went, the more I moaned into his mouth. We went from 0 to 60 in five seconds flat. One kiss turned into deep soul kissing and there was no turning back. He sucked my tongue gently in his mouth and I got dizzy. His mouth tasted slightly sweet, like he’d eaten a mint in anticipation of kissing me while I wasn’t looking. Our lips parted and he started kissing my neck. His technique was out of this world, gently sucking my hot spot and nibbling on my flesh while his hands were pulling me closer, rubbing me all over. There was no way I was going to let him leave so I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the living room. We both fell on the sofa and started making out like two teenagers in high school.

There is something transcendent about being in the arms of a Black man. Anyone who has every had the pleasure can testify to that. Being in the arms of a beautiful Black man, after months of being alone, is like finding an oasis in the desert after crawling on the hot sands. When I’m in that moment, feeling his muscles, the power of his grasp, if feels like it’s the reason I was created, it’s like climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro and reaching the Apex. Pressing his full body weight into mine, he took my breath away. I tried to pull him closer, to become one with him, to somehow feel his breath inside of me. He put his leg between mine and I started humping on him. My skirt was sliding up and I kept trying to subconsciously pull it back down. My mind was so used to putting me off when they made advances; it was hard to turn off that record that allowed me to be fully sensual and expressive with a man.
Truth is, I was scared. I was scared of letting down my guard. I was unsure of how to be sexual with a man anymore. I wasn’t sure what healthy boundaries were. I was playing all sorts of old tapes in my head about being a slut for sleeping with a man on the first date. I’m 30 years old and I was feeling like a teenager on the couch with my mom upstairs, ready to scold me for being fast.

Vernon must have been having the same apprehensions, well, at least comparable ones. He sat up and moved to the far end of the sofa. I was still lying there, with my legs spread, breathing heavy, and a look of tortured lust on my face. I could clearly see the outline of his dick tenting his pants and he made no efforts to hide it.

“Is everything okay,” I asked, sitting up and trying to gain some composure.

“Sure, I’m cool. It’s just that I’m not really sure that we should be doing this. I can’t lie; I want to be with you. You CAN’T imagine how much I want to be with you right now. It’s just that I don’t want my judgment clouded because it’s been so long since I . . . you know. I’m into you for a lot of reasons but I don’t want to just get caught up in the moment because I’m trying to fill the void, feel me? I’m not sure if I’m thinking with the right head.”

I think we both needed that minute to catch our breath and regroup. To be honest, the fact that he wanted to slow things down made me want him that much more. Not completely because you always want what you think you can’t have, but I’m sure that had a little to do with it, but mostly because he was actually thinking about the consequences of us getting too carried away. That was a first. Every other man I’d been with, once we’d gotten to the dry humping, spit swapping, simulating sex stage, there was nothing short of a natural disaster that could get them to think about anything other than fucking.

He pulled my skirt hem down to my knees, rather reluctantly I could tell, and then he pulled me onto his lap. We talked for a few minutes but neither of us made a move to end the evening. I tried to move to sit next to him, expressing that I was fearful that I was hurting him, and he sucked his teeth and gave me a look like, “Gurl, pleeease, don’t even think that you could hurt me.” I TOTALLY felt like a woman in the moment.

It was only then that all the work I’d done on myself, redefining and healing, kicked in. I was a vibrant, vital, woman with a lot to offer and sexual needs, the need for human contact. I was deserving of pleasure and sensual release. Yes, I wanted a relationship but more than that I wanted a man to appreciate me for more than being just a piece of ass. I was reasonably confident that Vernon didn’t just want a one night stand. But the real kicker was in coming to terms with the fact that, even if he did, even if having a sex on the first date wasn’t what I’d been conditioned to think a virtuous woman did, I was empowered and responsible for my happiness. I could choose to see the situation as one of opportunity and take ownership of my emotions afterwards, whatever the outcome.

I straddled Vernon’s lap and faced him. I slowly undid the buttons on my blouse, verrrry slowly. He didn’t say a word; he just sat there and watched me. I pulled my blouse off and dropped it to the floor. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts and he started massaging them. I undid the snaps of my bra and let if find a home on the floor on top of my shirt. Instinctively, his mouth found my nipples and started sucking them. I held them up for him, feeding him, throwing my head back and enjoying the sensation of his tongue, moving from one titty to the other, licking my hardened nipples, sucking them, biting them gently, driving me absolutely fucking crazy.

I started grinding on him, undoing the buttons on his shirt. He said, “Wait, shouldn’t we . . .” I didn’t let him finish his sentence. I kissed him again, this time even more passionately than before, if that was at all possible, and silenced him.

“Vernon, do you want to . . .” I didn’t know what words to use, so I just said what I was really feeling in that moment. “Vernon, do you want to fuck me?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Deborah, I want to fuck you so bad I can’t see straight.” He buried his face between the soft flesh of my breasts and pushed both nipples together and sucked them at the same time.

I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward my bedroom so we could stretch out and be more comfortable. He kept asking me if I was sure about this. I turned on my mackadocious music, the music I played when I wanted to get in the mood to fuck myself, and I started dancing for him, taking off the rest of my clothes. I slid out of my skirt and he just sat on the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable. Leaving my red lace panties on, I knelt between his legs and undid his belt buckle. He was looking down at me like he was having an out of body experience. I undid the button and lowered the zipper on his pants. I reached in his boxers and felt the heat of his dick. I pulled it from the opening and looked up at him, licked my lips, and licked the head. I saw his eyes roll back in his head and I knew that was my go ahead. I swirled my tongue around the head and started licking his shaft. I slip my lips sensually up and down the length and took his entire dick in my mouth deeply. He was bucking his hips and I was matching his thrusts. He grabbed my by my shoulders and pushed me away. “Stop,” he said breathing heavily, “I need you to slow down.”

I stood up and turned around. I slid my panties down over my full hips and stepped out of them. By the time I had turned back around, Vernon was naked and laying on the bed looking like a chocolate vision of beauty. “My turn,” he said, “and he stuck out his tongue. “I want to taste you.” I climbed on the bed and tried to lie next to him. He wasn’t having that and he told me that he wanted me to ride his face. For a woman who was out of practice at having sex, I wasn’t sure I was comfortable being that assertive. I stopped myself before I got too caught up in old tapes in my head and accepted his invitation.

I grabbed the headboard and threw my leg across his shoulder. He stuck his tongue out and said, “Come on, baby, let me lick that sweet pussy.” I lowered myself slowly, letting the lips of my pussy gently caress his lips. He started kissing my pussy, frenching them like he’d done to me earlier. I was biting my lip, trying to stifle my moans of appreciation but there was no use. I felt fucking fantastic. I started rubbing my pussy on his soft lips, sliding back and forth, feeling his tongue in my hole and his lips sucking at my clit. The sensations were out of the world. Before long, I was bouncing a little harder on his mouth, riding his tongue. Grabbing my ass, he pulled me forward and started licking me from my clit to my asshole. I’ll be a black son of a bitch if I could hold back my sounds of appreciation at that point. I was moaning and talking dirty, telling him how much I loved it.

“Ohhhh, yessss, sexy mother fucker. Let me ride that tongue, shove it in me. Oh shit, that feels so good.” He grabbed thighs and pulled me tighter. Poor little thing, I could have suffocated him I was bouncing up and down on his face so hard. I could feel the tremors, they were building and there was no turning back.

I rolled over on the bed, exhausted, but energized at the same time. Vernon rolled over on me and kissed me and I could taste my juices on his tongue. “Do you need some time to recuperate,” he whispered?

I reached between his legs and felt for his dick and rubbed it on the slit of my pussy. “Fuck me, NOW,” was all I needed to say.

“Oh shit,” he said, “Hold on there sweetness.” He reached for his pants on the side of the bed and pulled out some condoms, opened the package with his teeth, and slid it on his dick. I was so happy he’d taken the initiative to be responsible because I would have kicked myself a thousand times in the morning for not insisting that we use protection.

Locked and fully loaded, he placed my legs on his shoulders. He looked down at me and rubbed the head of his dick on my slit. I was sweating, trying to get him to penetrate me. I was still soaking wet from cumming before but I hadn’t felt a real dick in my in so long, I couldn’t wait any longer. Vernon made me wait. He teased me, excruciatingly painful teasing. He pushed the head in and I gripped the sheets. I was tighter than usual I guess, from not having sex in so long, so he had to work hard to get it all in. We were both sweating and grunting and he was going deeper and deeper. Finally, I could feel his balls on my ass and the head of his dick was deep inside me.

Gripping my thighs, he started fucking me. When I say he was fucking me, he would withdraw all the way to the head and then push every millimeter inside me, rhythmically, methodically, sensually. I was twisting and turning, playing with his nipples, playing with my own, rubbing my clit, just adding to the sensations. I grabbed his ass and started trying to get him to fuck me harder. We were grunting and groaning, he was fucking me senseless. He let my legs go and I wrapped them around his back. He fell on top of me and we began kissing passionately. Our sweaty bodies were slipping and sliding together.

“Oh shit, I’m going to cum.”

He fell on the bed, staring at the ceiling, not saying a word. I pulled the covers over us and drifted off to sleep snuggled up next to him. I awoke to the sounds of him getting dressed, glanced at the clock, and it said 5:30.

“Listen, Shakhari has never woken up with me not there so I need to run,” he whispered. “I left the address of where my nephew is going to be playing. Meet us there when you get a chance. I can’t wait to see you later.” He kissed my forehead. Go back to sleep and get some rest and we can pick up where we left off tonight.”

I was relieved. While I was prepared for the big blow off, I was pleased that it looked like things were going to move ahead. Where things were going to go was entirely up to us but I was pretty assured that he hadn’t just taken advantage of me and I was confident that I had truly made the empowered choice that signaled a sensual rite of passage for me as a woman.

(And just so you know, he nephew’s team won the regional title.)

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK

Loving my Blood

The Creator has seen fit to allow me to wear the queenly robes of a Black woman in this lifetime. It is an honor for which I’m humbled. I have the ability to nourish and feed life inside me with my blood. Every month, my temple cleanses itself with my menses by shedding the cells and nutrients intended to cradle life. It’s miraculous in and of itself how the female body is so divinely crafted and the potential for life which it holds. Men, and their patriarchal domination, have somehow brainwashed women into thinking that their blood is a curse. Without that blood, they wouldn’t have survived, lived, or thrived in the womb. That blood fed their cells and enabled them to have life, know life. I’m aware that my blood is a divine gift.

I struggle with loving my blood, try as I may, because it comes with such debilitating pain. The pain is so intense, so distracting, that it seems that is consumes me. I would love to celebrate my blood in ritual, to treat it as sacred fluid deserving of the highest exaltation but I’m paralyzed by the pain that is associated with it. I suspect that my pain is the manifestation of centuries of rape, abuse, and disrespect that has been forced upon the wombs of my ancestors. I’m quite sure that moving away from a holistic diet based on plants and organic foods for generations has contributed to collective cramping of our uteruses. Were I to have a child, I suspect that I would be able to love my blood more, knowing that my blood fed my offspring in my womb. If I were to have a partner, I suspect that I would be able to love my blood more, knowing that I would have someone’s hand to hold, to fix me tea and tell me everything was going to be okay.

When I was young, before I got my period, it’s all I wanted. All my friends got it before me and I wanted to experience that rite of passage. I was anxious for it to come, as all girls are. I wasn’t told it was a curse by my mother or grandmother, although I was told that getting my feet during my period would cause me to get a deep voice; a rule I lived by for the better part of a year before I chanced it. The day I got my period was my cousin’s 8th birthday. We were having a party and I felt the first signs discomfort before the first drop of blood appeared. By the time I had my Kotex maxi pad and the belt in place, I was doubled over in pain, asking my grandmother repeatedly, “Why didn’t you tell me it was going to hurt this much? Why didn’t you tell me?” My mother suffered from dysmenorrhea just as I did until she had a hysterectomy.

I don’t suffer from mood swings, I don’t get cravings. My periods are short but they come with a knockout punch. For 24 hours, I’m loathe to do anything other than take pain pills and suffer in agony. I would so love to teach my daughter, if I’m ever blessed to have one, to love her blood but I fear I will pass on my feelings of fear and apprehension about the pain. I want to celebrate my blood, praise my blood as the gift that it is. I want to rejoice in my blood but I am handicapped by the pain.

The Naughty Phone Call

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Negative and sterotypical depictions of Black sexuality

I own AfroerotiK, a company dedicated to dismantling the negative and stereotypical depictions of Black sexuality. Every day, every single solitary day, I have people, both Black and white ask me, "What are the negative and stereotypical depictions of Black sexuality?" It's been so ingrained in us for so long, we don't even recognize when we are being degraded.

Go into an adult video store. Asian women are "dolls" Latina women are "exotic" Black women are "ghetto whores" "ghetto bitches" ghetto freaks". There's an entire crop of "nigger" porn sites popping up. Sites like My Daughter Fucks Niggers dot com and the like have white girls throwing the N word around like it's a softball. White men sit at home and jerk off thinking the word nigger is an aphrodisiac. The not so transparent premise of sites lite those are based on the concept of Black men being sexual savages and it being "taboo" to fuck them. I've asked 6 million white people, what's so "taboo" about a white woman fucking a Black man and they always say, "You know, it just is . . . it's noting racist or anything." Then I always ask them, is it "taboo" for a white woman to fuck an Asian man? No. Is it "taboo" for a white woman to fuck a Latino man? Same answer, no. Is it taboo for a white woman to fuck a Native American man? No. Is it taboo for a woman to fuck a dog? Then, the answer is a resounding YES. So fucking a black man and fucking a dog fall in the same taboo category. Black men not only don't have a problem with being seen as a sexual savage and animals, but they embrace it like it’s an honor. They think it's hot to fuck white women on camera and call themselves niggers, to show white men what beasts they are for fucking those white wives senseless. They think it proves that they are more of a man to be able to fuck white women in front of their husbands. They revel in the role of nigger buck. It's so accepted, so ingrained in our psyche, we don't even think twice at the way we are depicted.

When white men tell me that they want to see what it's like to have sex with a Black woman, I used go off on them, telling them that I'm a human being, not a scratch and sniff experiment. I used to give this long lecture on how my sexuality is not a manifestation of my skin color. Today, I just put them on ignore. I’d spend my entire life, every waking minute of the day telling white men that I am not some taboo fantasy for them to explore and they still wouldn’t get it because I’m the only woman who doesn’t think its flattering for white men to say, “Black women are so sexy, their asses are so big.” My attractiveness as a woman lies between my ears, not between my legs, not in my ass, not in the color of my skin. Black women are so desperate to be seen as attractive, to be thought of as sexy, they find it flattering when white men objectify us.

Now we have a wave of sistas who are engaging white men in their domination of the nigger bitch fantasies, being whipped and beaten while being called a slave and absolutely the most vile and degrading names. They subconsciously hate their blackness so much, they are so tormented with being black in this racist society, and they want to be owned by white men and degraded for their sexuality. It's a pathology so deep, so profound it boggles my mind. I've seen the same behavior in some gay and submissive Black men; they want to be the nigger coon whipping post for any Nazi, skinhead, slave master, racist white person that will use them. Consciously, they insist that it has nothing to do with race; it's just a personal preference. Having fantasies about being called a nigger coon whore has nothing to do with race? That’s deep.

Let me tell you, I listen to the fantasies of white people every day. There are far more extreme, far more perverse, far more disgusting than anything I've ever heard from a Black person. We as black people can't even feel comfortable expressing our sexuality in a safe, healthy manner. We are so repressed, so ashamed of anything that isn't missionary, doggie style or oral that we torment ourselves with guilt over innocent fantasies. Meanwhile white people are engaging in acts that are truly perverse and saying that we are the sexual savages.

The myth of the sexual Black beast, the ghetto freak, the barely literate Black buck are all still very prevalent and no one is even disturbed by them, let alone trying to dismantle them.

Black Domme Training 101

The following is an instructional guide created with the sole purpose of training Black women how to control pathetic white bois. Submissive white bois only serve one function in life and that is to fulfill whatever twisted, perverted, kinky, disgusting desire that Black women possess. The Black woman is the center of the universe and all should bow to her beauty and majesty. There is none more exquisite or deserving of adoration. Submissive white bois are the most reprehensible creatures to walk the face of the planet and deserve to be treated with little or no regard. They are a useless waste of air that are best used to clean up the well used pussies of Black women after they have been fucked by real men, to suck the enormous pricks of Black men to show their inferior status and even to consume the waste of Black women. It should be noted that white men love being treated like that because they are so sick and twisted that they get pleasure from the most heinous acts. Please, don’t be afraid to think of innovative and degrading ways to treat your white boy. Creativity is the sign of a good mistress.

Normally, eating a black woman’s pussy is an honor and privilege that most white men should not be able to earn unless they are cleaning out the cum of a real man. In rare instances, when a black domme is in need of satisfaction and a real man isn’t available, she can use the services of a white boi to pleasure her. It is entirely up to her discretion. It is a good idea to use a tens unit to administer pain to the tiny genitals of the white sub. Don’t be afraid of damaging their little cocks. The white cock is the most disgusting thing in the universe and extra caution should be used to make sure that it is abused as much as possible and rarely allowed the pleasure of orgasm.

White cunts like to be on display as well, shown off so that people can see the depths of perversion that they will enjoy. Invite your friends to use his boypussy with their strapons and you will have a submissive white boy that will seek to please you that much more. Make sure that he doesn’t embarrass you in front of your friends and he should offer his potty mouth to them to drink their golden nectar. Provide enormous strapons for your friends to wear to punish him and be sure and tell them that it doesn’t matter if they rip his asshole and make it hurt. In fact, they should be instructed to try to ruin his hole when they can although it will be extremely difficult to do given the slutty nature of the white male. 

Don’t let them fool you that they don’t want to suck black cocks either. That pretense usually flies out the window any time they have a thick hard black cock in their face. They are cum sluts of the highest order and it’s only the cum of a black man that can fill their desires. They will suck that dick like a two dollar whore, jerking off their inferior cocks the entire time. The only thing they will want more is to have that slab of monster meat in their slack holes to be rammed and fucked like sissy faggot bitches. It’s a good idea to get him in the habit of cleaning up any black cock that’s been up his ass as well so that he can know his role as white man is to fully serve the superior black race in whatever way they see fit. Eventually, the slut will be so horny for black cocks, he will become a gangbang whore and you’ll have difficulty getting enough cocks to fill his insatiable hole. White boys should be discarded when they get to that point, left to find their own ways to satisfy their sick desires. They should only be kept around if they can provide financial tributes that elevate the black woman to her true place of royalty.

In conclusion, I want all black women to remember that it is ultimately their pleasure that is the most important thing and that white boys should be used in any way they can. The world will be a better place once Black women realize the true power that exists between their legs and they learn to harness that power to reduce white men to their true place of submission.

AfroerotiK Guide: How to fuck an Asshole

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Help me show publishers that people are interested in my book

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Winner of the Black Web Awards Best Black Erotica Site for 2007

Deep Inside My Neo Soul

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Three the Hard Way

Tanya washed the last of the dishes and dried her hands on the dishtowel after a sumptuous meal with good friends. She grabbed her glass of Pinot Noir and headed for the living room to rejoin her dinner guests. Rocky and JC were comfortably lounging, listening to a little Russell Gunn and debating the merits of ethnomusicology. They’d started a fire in the fireplace and stripped down to their muscular bare chests, leaving their jeans on. Tanya lay down on the proverbial bear skin rug, which wasn’t really a bear skin at all but a deep cream-colored shag rug that looked like it came straight from the 70s, and invited her company to join her.

The three friends got together at least once a month for a little uninhibited adult fun. Things got heated quickly as Tanya reached out to caress Rocky’s smooth brown chest while JC nuzzled her neck and kissed her hot spot. She let out a moan and arched her back as Rocky started to undo the buttons on her blouse and JC slid his hands under her skirt to fill his hands with the smooth, caramel flesh of her thick thighs. Her body responded as she turned to share an open-mouthed kiss with JC and Rocky lowered his mouth to her hardened nipples and sucked them between his soft, full lips.

Before you could count: one, two, threesome, everyone was naked and aroused. JC stretched out Tanya knelt between his legs and lowered her mouth to his hard dick. While she was licking and sucking, blowing his mind, Rocky was behind her with his tongue lapping at her sweet pussy. He pulled the cheeks of her ass apart and drove his tongue in her sexy asshole, causing her to swallow JC to the base, swirling her tongue and making him grab her head. He didn’t have to for long because Rocky had lined up the head of his dick with her hole and was teasing Tanya with impending penetration. She started moaning, sending erotic vibrations up and down JC’s shaft and all the way to his balls. Neither fella was intimidated or threatened by the proximity of another dick, the sensations were too pleasurable to deny and they were both comfortable with the objective. That’s what made the little ménage a trios work so well. If they had been homophobic and uptight, they could have never worked out a regular thangy thang where they could all get together and get hot and sweaty.

Dripping with excitement, literally, Tanya felt the head of Rocky’s dick invade her pussy walls and she grabbed the carpet to hold on. He was being creative, stroking it at every angle, hitting all her spots. He buried himself inside her and started using his muscles to flex his dick, which caused the lovely lady to lose control. She was chanting and moaning, “Oh shit, that feels so good. Fuck me, Fuck me.”

Her words weren’t merely the rants of a horny woman, they were instructions. The reason the threesome got together was because Tanya had appetities that could only be “filled” by two men who were willing to work in tandem to satisfy her insatiable hunger. JC pulled out. “You ready man?”

“Born ready, man. Let’s do this,” JC replied, and they gave each other a pound. Their male bonding moment was lost on Tanya as she positioned herself and started sliding down JC’s hard dick. It was his turn to grab the carpeting for sheer life because his very special lady friend was working her pussy on him, making him see stars. There was no question about the fact that she was a lady who knew exactly how to get her pleasure and wasn’t afraid to go for it.

She sat down on JC and for a moment, he thought the head of his dick was hitting one of her ovaries. She glanced back, with a look of pure lust in her eyes, and said, “What are you waiting for? Fuck me! NOW!”

Rocky wasn’t even about to find out what would happen to him if he didn’t follow her instructions. He took his dick, still wet with her sexy juices, and lined the head up to her asshole. It took some time to work his dick in and Tanya rubbed her clit and JC massaged her juicy titties that were hanging in his face. Not one to be patient, Tanya started fucking him back, getting that dick deep in her asshole, leaning forward to push her tongue in JC’s mouth and share a sensual kiss. He started thrusting his hips upward, driving his dick deeper, giving her what she wanted: two long and strong dicks, fucking her at the same time.

Tanya’s pussy was leaking cum, coating both brothas balls with juices. She was like a wild woman, possessed even, getting her pleasure in a way she was told was forbidden. To these special friends, it wasn’t taboo, it was the ultimate sensual experience, providing a beautiful Nubian queen with all the pleasure her body could handle, making her cum over and over again until her body was a heap of quivering flesh.

That’s just what they did. The two men took over and worked out a rhythm. While JC was deep inside, Rocky would be flexing his joint to stimulate her hole. They could feel the heads of their dicks rubbing against each other, separated only by the thin membrane inside her. They started fucking her harder, deeper, making her spew profanity and alert the neighbors in the apartment next door to exactly what was going on. She wasn’t shy about saying exactly what was going on and very loudly at that. “Oh yeah, fuck my pussy and asshole. Give me those hard dicks. I love it. Ram them in me at the same time. I love getting that hard and nasty double penetration. Oh yeah boys, fuck me, fuck me.”

Rocky had the hardest job of the evening because his hole was the tightest. He could feel the cum boiling in his nuts. “Oh man, I can’t take it no more, this asshole is too hot. I’m gonna blow.” He pulled out and shot his hot cum on her gaping asshole.

JC didn’t miss a beat. He flipped Tanya over on her back and grabbed her legs and put them on his shoulders. He started fucking her, deeper rather than harder, and sending her over the edge. She was cumming all over the place and adding more cum to the mix. He held off for as long as he could and blasted his load on her soft tummy.

She walked the gentlemen to the door, as naked as the day she was born. After their erotic escapades, Tanya always felt more liberated, unashamed to show the world her brazen sexuality. So what if the neighbors saw her. She kissed both men on the lips and said she would call them in a few days. Next month they would meet at Rocky’s house and the boyz would switch positions.

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK

AfroerotiK is . . . Showered with Love

Is love something that grows over time or can you experience true and abiding love instantly? Is love all romance and cheesy songs or can love be fostered amidst contention? In a day and time when people look for instant gratification and put their own needs above everyone else's feelings, can true love really grow? These are important questions that must be asked in an effort to redefine the formula for a healthy relationship. There's a fine line between trusting your instincts and making an uninformed choice. Take the AfroerotiK audio journey and experience how scorching hot passion can be born from the right mix of trust and vulnerability.

It takes a while to download and your patience is appreciated.

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Made for Me

If I could have a man created specifically for me, with all the things I desire in a partner, I would ask for a man who took my breath away every time I saw him. He would be tall and brown and ooze integrity and character from every pore in his being. He would be wise beyond his years and his words would be carefully chosen each time he spoke and they would flow like honey from his lips.

If I could have a man created specifically for me, he would consider Africa his cultural and spiritual homeland and be willing to shed the belief systems that we have incorporated during slavery for a more holistic way of living. He would be driven to fulfill his purpose in life and single minded in his dedication to a cause that is holy, righteous, and good. He will meditate every morning and he would pray with me every night. Of course, he will be able to cry on my shoulder and ask for support because he has come face to face with the demons that have kept men from evolving emotionally and he will have a commitment to redefining himself anew. He will listen first and then speak, he will not internalize every comment as criticism, and he will apologize when he’s done something wrong.

My perfect man will live off of a plant based diet, practice a spiritual system other than Christian, and he will be openly bisexual. He will have been in an intimate relationship with another man and loved him. He will be comfortable with his sexuality not being tied to ridiculous roles that define him. He will be a patient and attentive lover who will be willing to please and pamper me with the knowledge that I will only return the favor tenfold.

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

He would never be intimidated by my intellect, potential, or my activism and he would support me and my efforts with words of encouragement and praise. He would put other’s needs above his wants and we will travel the world in search of truth. He will know the first and third verses of the Negro National Anthem and he will stand up when it’s being sung without being told. He will never use the word nigger, nigga, or any phonetic or derivative spelling thereof out of reverence and respect for our ancestors.

I want my perfect man to be equal parts creative and intelligent, equal parts spiritual and carnal. Make him open-minded, tolerant of people’s differences, and as far left as he can get politically without falling off the scale and ending up in jail at Guantanmo Bay. I want him to be an avid reader and lover of jazz, art, real theater (not Medea plays) and capable of articulating why the current brand of hip-hop is misogynist and offensive to not only women but to men as well.

His commitment to our relationship will be beyond compare. My perfect man would prioritize and sacrifice in order for us to continually grow. Ahh, my perfect lover would hold me in his arms at night and kiss my forehead and whisper, “I love you,” and make me feel as if everything was right with the world.

I Love Getting Fucked in the Ass

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This track is only for true anal enthusiasts.  It's explicit, it's hardcore, it's extreme.  At almost 6 minutes long, it's the soundtrack that will accompany you right up to your moment of explosion.  Be forewarned that this is only for those individuals who think that backdoor sex should be natural, raw, and primal.  

Looking for erotic stories to be featured

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Experience Making Love to Me

Feel my lips gently nibbling on your earlobe, My breath as I whisper in your ear, I want you. Smell the scent of my perfume as it lingers on my skin. Taste my mouth as we kiss. Feel the softness of my lips, my yielding tongue.

Experience my soft, gentle kisses on your neck, your shoulders, and your chest. Relax and enjoy as I kiss your arms, inside your elbows, the palms of your hands. Maintain eye contact with me as I suck each and every one of your fingers.

Relinquish control as I massage your back. Feel the cool sensation as I leave wet kisses on your spine. Feel my breasts crushed against your back as I try to press every inch of our bodies together. Breathe deeply; inhale the aroma of the candles, the oil I use to massage you, my arousal as my passion builds for you. Turn over and face me. Tingle with anticipation as my hands move slowly back up the fronts of your legs, your thighs.

Ache with need as my mouth kisses and licks your torso, carefully avoiding your erection with the exception of my hot breath. Describe the sensation to me as I lick and gently suck your balls. Tell me how it feels as I lick the head of your dick and make it glisten. Watch me as I swallow you, licking you, sucking you, stroking you, blowing your mind. Scream out my name as I bring you to the verge of orgasm and stop. Feel the head of your dick, deep in the back of my throat while my wet, hot lips, tongue, and mouth envelop you entirely.

Experience the need to have me, be inside of me, to fuck me. Look at me. Notice every detail of my body: my bedroom eyes, my full lips, my tiny ears, my small shoulders, my long arms and fingers, the swell of my breasts slowly rising and falling, the contrast of my nipples, my small waist and full hips, my smooth, long, brown legs and tiny ankles, the high arch of my foot and my perfectly pedicured toes.

Make me need you. Press your body onto mine, laying your weight upon me. Whisper all the naughty things you want to do. Kiss me passionately; long, hard and wet. Let me know that you want me, all of me, and only me. Feel my passion for you build as you fondle and caress my breasts, pinching my nipples, cupping them in your hands.

Watch my excitement build as you lower you mouth to my breasts nursing them like a baby, sucking them like a man hungry with desire. Lick them all over, use your tongue like a sensual paintbrush.

Feel the heat from between my legs, spread them. Examine that part of me that makes me a woman. Notice how aroused I become at even the most gentle stimulation. Touch me softly and watch me writhe in pleasure. Spread my lips apart, feeling my wetness flow. Smell my sex, natural and sweet. Invade me with your fingers. Manipulate that vacant and slippery space with skill. Make me give you my surrender. Invade me with your tongue. Taste me, eat me, lick me, suck me.

And then calmly reassure me of your love. Look deeply into my eyes and let me know that everything will be fine, that you will take care of me, that I dont need to be afraid. And with the hunger of a starving man, the thrill of the first time…………penetrate me. Close your eyes and feel our bodies become one. Experience my gift to you.

Make love to me. Slow, steady. hard, deep. Drive your dick up inside me over and over again. Make me scream with pleasure and ecstasy divine. Fuck me until our bodies are glistening with sweat. Feel my pussy grab you and pull you deep inside of me. Tell me how tight and wet and hot I am and how good my pussy makes you feel. Faster …Deeper. Experience the addiction of pleasure over take your body. And then my dear, sweet lover, fill me with your seed, that which makes me whole. Dont move, dont move, DONT MOVE. Just enjoy the experience of making love to me.


Copyright 2004 AfroerotiK

Knowing True and Abiding Love

When I was young, I used to watch my grandmother clip my grandfather's toenails. I thought that was the most disgusting, subservient, oppressive act a woman could do. I was embarrassed that my grandfather NEVER washed his own hair. He would take a shower every morning and he wouldn't wash his hair, he would let my grandmother do it in a dining room chair with a shampoo/conditioner whole setup. In the summers, when I would sew my back to school wardrobe, we had to clean up every day at 4:00 to make sure the house was straightened and dinner was on the table for my grandfather at 6:00. Submissive right? No independent woman of today would ever do those things for a man that would be beneath her.

Well, it wasn't until I was a grown woman that I understood that having dinner on the table would have meant nothing if he wasn't home every night at 6:00. My grandmother never worked, so all the material we would buy for my school clothes, all the shopping trips we would take all over the city, were funded by my grandfather who gave her money unconditionally. My grandmother never wrote a check in her life because my grandfather made sure all the bills were paid. There was never a day when the lights were cut off, there was no phone, or there was a threat of being evicted. Those things didn't happen by accident, my grandfather never ran the streets, his friends were their friends, he was stable and committed and he loved to spoil my grandmother. Any whim she had, he fulfilled. Any concern or fear she had he erased.
I'd wash my man's feet, hair and do a harem dance every night if I could find a man who was as committed to me as my grandfather was to my grandmother.

Love is give and take, it's not being subservient. Was my grandmother a slave because she clipped my grandfather's toenails? Hardly. She was a loving woman who felt honored to do for her man in a way that no one else could.

Today, we are too selfish. We want someone to clip our toenails and sacrifice for us but we don't want to do it for someone else. We want to have someone cater t6 our needs and wants and wishes and we have no concept of what it is to sacrifice for someone else. Worse yet, we think that sacrificing for someone is negative.

We don't know what love is. We know what narcissism is. We know what self centeredness is. We know that we want someone to make us feel good but we have no concept of how to make someone else feel special, romanced, or loved. How many men would kill for a woman to cook for them every night? Would they be willing to give up hanging out at happy hour and drinking with the boys or would you be able to pull off planning a dream vacation where all your wife had to do was shop and pack? Every woman in the world would want to have her man to buy her minks and diamonds and have as much money as you want to go shopping while knowing that they never have to worry about their man cheating but what are they willing to give in exchange.

Love is recognizing that you lose nothing by putting your partner on a pedestal. I saw evidence of 61 years of love when my grandfather would grease my grandmother’s scalp and comb her hair when she was too sick to do it herself. I saw love when my grandmother wanted to renew their marriage vows and my grandfather let her have her dream wedding. I saw love when my grandmother didn’t try to drain the bank account with extravagance that would leave them penniless just because she could. I witnessed love when my grandfather retired and my grandmother got her first retirement check, completely separate from his, that was over $1200 a month. When my grandfather told her that it was hers, I knew that he had worked 55 years to see that look of joy on her face, to provide for her. When my grandmother wanted a new washer and dryer, it would be installed before the week was out; and my grandmother would wash and iron my grandfather’s shirts better than the cleaners. I’ve seen true love, I’ve witnessed what it is to care for someone so much that your every thought is in how to make them happy. Their love was yin and yang. I’d give a major organ to be able to experience love like that.

Has the Black community given up on love?

Has the Black community given up on the concept of love? Are we now solely focused on self and what someone can do for us rather than building a partnership based on love? What is love? Do Black men and women know how to love one another anymore? What does a healthy, loving relationship consist of? What are the things that make up a healthy loving relationship? What will it take for us to believe in love again or are people too damaged to even know how to form a relationship based on love?

Share your thoughts and opinions.

Swinging 101 in Black and white

I've noticed several trends in the swinging lifestyle that are different between Black and white participants. When Black couples go to a swing club it's for different reasons than white couples. I've been to mixed clubs, all Black clubs (still stands as the most erotic and sensual experience I've ever had) and I've been to private parties where all the people were Black.

When white couples go out to swing clubs, it's primarily so the wife can fuck other people, mostly men but occasionally women. She's dressed like a hooker and he's dressed like it’s dress down Friday at the office. White women will dance together in groups like at prom while the hubbies stand and watch. Anyone who has been to Trapeze or 2 Risque can atest to that. Black couples look like they are a couple, dressed for a Friday or Saturday night at the club, attractive, stylish but nothing over the top and certainly nothing where the woman could be confused for a prostitute.

White people don't really care about making a connection with whomever they hook up with, they go for appearance first and foremost and it stops there. White women will walk up to me and say, "Oh my god, you are so sexy,” and the next thing you know, they are on their knees trying to eat my pussy without asking me my name, or if I'm even interested in them going down on me. Black couples want to have a drink with the person or couple they hook up with, they want to have a while where they bond first, get to know each other and then go off to play.
It's far more about exhibitionism with white couples than it is for black couples. White men want their wives to be seen, they want people to watch and join in. Black couples want to go off to a private room together and get busy behind closed doors. I’m not saying that Black couples don’t get off on being seen but I’m saying that if you have a club with private rooms, Black couples will be lined up waiting for a room and when the door opens and the people come out, it will usually be occupied by Black couples.

White women, 9 times out of 10, will ride their husband on top. You rarely see a white dude downstroking at a swing club. Anyone who goes, check it out next time. If I'm lying I'm dying. If you see a white couple together, husband and wife, the wife is almost always riding old boy and he's chilling out relaxing. Brothas are always hitting it, working out the technique, driving it home. If a black woman is on top, you can be sure there’s another black women riding his face and they are kissing and sucking each other’s titties and whathaveyou.

White men do eat pussy a helluva lot more and in fact, they will bring their women to orgasm with their mouths more and not have the need to have sex after that. Brothas, based on my observations, eat pussy as foreplay before getting to the fucking. There are exceptions to every rule. The friends I used to go with for example, I never fucked, I only had oral sex with them. My boy would eat my pussy so well people would gather around just to watch me nut all over the place. If I had been willing to have sex with him, however, I can almost promise you that eating pussy would have only been the appetizer. One can only assume that white couples, man and wife, don’t have any such “no fucking” restrictions so eating pussy as the appetizer, entrée, and dessert is by choice and not by force.

And for the most part, white couples are far less vocal during sex. White women can cum and you'd never know it. They might breathe a little heavier and you have to assume they had an orgasm. There might be one or two white guys in the spot talking shit but the majority are not. Black couples are talking shit, moaning, groaning, and being expressive. I have seen white women screaming and acting a fool, but usually only when they are with black men. I saw this one white chick get the shit beat out of her in a BDSM room and she didn't even whimper. Go figure.

Single brothas are WAY more respectful in swing club environments. White men want to touch and put their hands on women without asking. Brothas have more manners, they'll ask and if you say stop, they apologize and don't do it again. White men will think that just because you are in a different room that gives them permission to try to jerk off on you again. The one opportunity I had to go with someone who I was dating, he was very protective of me, making sure that no one touched me or made me uncomfortable. I liked that more than when I went with my friends; I was pretty much on my own having to deal with unwanted advances.

I've NEVER seen a Black woman have a gangbang situation, in all Black swing clubs or in interracial ones. I've seen porno’s of it where ghetto mamas are getting banged by five or six dudes at the same time but I've never seen it in real life. I'm sure it happens but I've never seen it. I've seen white women get fucked by men and she never even saw their faces; fucked in the pussy, fucked in the ass, fucked without condoms, while hubby stands there and jerks off.

Black people show up after midnight, white people are standing in line when the door opens. We do have a different time orientation than white people. It’s considered negative because it’s different than the norm for white people but it is simply an indication that we are less rigid in how we view linear time, not a negative stigma that indicates we are somehow inferior.

And anyone else who has been to a swing club can testify. White men have erectile dysfunction a whole HELLUVA lot more than brothas. I've seen more white men with dicks that won't get nowhere close to being hard masturbating for hours at the spot.

I’ve only been to swing clubs in ATL, so there are possibly different dynamics in other cities. NYC and LA I’m sure have different dynamics. Interracial couples bring a whole nutha set of rules to the table. I’ve not seen many black women with white men at swing clubs but I’m sure that’s logistical as well. In LA or NY, I’m sure black women are stepping out with white men in larger numbers. I can recall one couple (BW/WM) who were pretty regular at Venus and they were both a little on the heavy side and it appeared that she was his domme.

From a person who thought swinging was nasty and disgusting before I went, to a person who can’t wait to find a committed partner to share in the erotic experience again, I’ve changed my perspective about what it is, and what it brings to a relationship. One thing is for sure, it brings a whole different element to Black relationships than it does to white ones. Perhaps we can delve deeper into the why’s and the mechanics of the differences with open discussion and dialogue.

Celebrities adopting African children

Take a look around at all the websites and online communities of white couples that want the wives "bred" black. There is a perverse and widespread fascination for white people to want black babies. Celebrities can't just show up on the cover of People magazine as pregnant and then push out a black baby without it causing a scandal. The next best thing to do is to adopt a black child from Africa and claim it's a humanitarian issue.

For celebrities, African children are the new fashion accessory. Last year it was dogs that fit in your purse, this year it's African children. There are countless numbers of children, both white and black that need to be adopted right here in the US. This compulsion for the exotic is yet another indication of how fucked up we are as a society and how dysfunctional behaviors are passed off as normal. Tom Cruise was the first to adopt Black children with Nicole. There's a little more evidence that he's not dealing from a full deck now that he has his own child and we can observe his behaviors and actions and assess that his parenting skills might not be optimal. Angelina seems to have turned her life around, from tongue kissing her brother in front of the world and wearing vials of blood from her husband, to a true humanitarian. I don't know what sort of person she is, nor do I know what sort of parent she is but she seems sincere in her efforts to bring light to the struggles of people of color throughout the world. Is her desire to have brown babies indicative of this trend we see for white people to purge themselves of a collective white guilt? Who knows? But there are all sorts of pathological implications and trends that aren’t going to be discussed in public forums that are motivating factors in many people’s actions.

Madonna has lived her life trying to be controversial. I’m sure she’s upset that she didn’t think of the idea first. There are lots of women who have children of their own for selfish reasons, Madonna isn’t the first, she won’t be the last. Will her child have a better life in England than Malawi, financially yes. Will he grow up to liberate Black people and end the reign of the fallacy of white supremacy? Hell no. Brittany Spears shouldn’t be anyone’s mother, not her own children, not her half black step children, not $3.00 hamsters from the Wal-mart pet store. She is however, a better alternative than living without clean water. It’s only a matter of time before B-list celebrities start adopting Black children to get back on top. “Tara Reid, I’m sorry I don’t have any roles for you but why not adopt an African baby to get you back on the front page.” One thing I can almost promise you won’t happen; Black celebrities won’t be adopting any African babies any time soon.

Every child deserves a family that loves them and cherishes them. In the scheme of life, any child that has the opportunity to have a better life by being adopted is a good thing. Will celebrities who adopt black babies cause a rip in the fabric of the universe, no. Will it be psychologically healthy for children of color to be raised by superficial, attention starved, materialistic people? On a scale from one to ten, it’s a 1; there are far worse things for a child to endure. Starvation, abuse, neglect, rape, are rank a 10 and any child that can be spared those things is a blessing, without question. Children in Africa are no more deserving of adoption than those that are here in our borders but any child who gets a stable home is a check in the plus column.

Rasing my vibration on this day

A cosmic trigger event is occurring on the 17th of October 2006. This is the beginning, one of many trigger events to come between now and 2013. An ultraviolet (UV) pulse beam radiating from higher dimensions in universe-2 will cross paths with the Earth on this day. Earth will remain approximately within this UV beam for 17 hours of your time.

This beam resonates with the heart chakra, it is radiant fluorescent in nature, blue/magenta in color. Although it resonates in this frequency band, it is above the color frequency spectrum of your universe-1 which you, Earth articulate in. However due to the nature of your soul and soul groups operating from Universe-2 frequency bands it will have an effect.

The effect is every thought and emotion will be amplified intensely one million-fold. Yes, we will repeat, all will be amplified one millions time and more. Every thought, every emotion, every intent, every will, no matter if it is good, bad, ill, positive, negative, will be amplified one million times in strength.

What does this mean ?

Since all matter manifest is due to your thoughts, i.e. what you focus on, this beam will accelerate these thoughts and solidify them at an accelerated rate making them manifest a million times faster than they normally would. For those that do not comprehend yet. " Your thoughts => what you focus on, create YOUR experience of reality. "

This UV beam thus can be a dangerous tool. For if you are focused on thoughts which are negative to your liking they will manifest into your reality almost instantly. Then again this UV beam can be a gift if you choose it to be.



May the Creator add light and love to my thoughts so that they may become manifest

I desire the end of the reign of white supremacy that has oppressed people of color for thousands of years.

I desire a restoration of balance and harmony to the consciousness of the earth that is aligned with the universe, one verse, the Creator of All.

I desire the end of the fallacy of male supremacy and a restoration of equality of human beings not based on genitals but based on the symbiotic relationship between genders.

I desire those human beings who have perpetuated hatred, oppression, war, and evil for profit to receive just earthly punishments for their behavior while in human form.

I desire the end of religious beliefs that were created by man to control and dominate the masses and desire a more holistic, connected spiritual path based on truth to be ushered forth

I desire earthly restitution for the people of color who have suffered genocide, enslavement, and cultural annihilation at the hands of Caucasians.

I desire an energy of peace and love to envelop this earth plane and infuse our spirits with truth.

I desire the veil of illusion that has been placed over people of African descent to be lifted so that we might see exactly how debilitating assimilation into white culture is for our beings.

I desire self-love and confidence in my abilities

I desire to release the negative self talk that haunts my subconscious mind

I invite unconditional love from my divine right partner, my twin flame into my life so that I might be able to give and receive human love abundantly while in this body SOON

I desire the opportunity to give birth to a child who will grow up to surpass my lofty expectations and goals for him or her

I desire to be a mother to children whom I can raise, love, and nurture with my husband to teach them the ways of a spiritual warrior and enlightened being.

I desire the ability to remain humble in the face of financial success and acclaim

I acknowledge that my words have power and I desire that they will go forth to the masses and be received in such a way that they will usher in transformations, education, and healing

I desire my book, In Loving Color, with photography by Aaron Brown, to become a phenomenal best seller and open doors to dialogue about Black sexuality that will free us from mental chains that keep us enslaved to debilitating mindsets
I desire AfroerotiK to be the foundation for an erotic revolution that will generate workshops, videos, magazines, CDs, conferences, healing centers, radio programs, and any and all multi media opportunities that will create more opportunities for Black people and relationships to heal.

I desire healing for my mother so that she can be release from her need to manipulate and control, so that she might see her own pathological behaviors and be able to release them easily.

I desire healing for Emmanuel.

I desire happiness for Chelsie and Khelsea

I desire a healthy relationship for Tanya

I desire a life filled with learning, art, culture, good food, good friends, great music, and harmony.

I desire the reverence to respect the earth and the environment with every action I take

Consciousness Quiz for African Americans

For each question, choose the answer that best represents your feelings. Do not write in answers, do not skip a question if you don’t see an answer that you like. In some questions, you’ll find an immediate answer you will agree with and on other’s you will have a strong urge to disagree with all of them. Choose the answer that BEST represents your feelings. For ease, copy and paste the quiz into a word document and remove all the answers except the one you pick. DO NOT change the answers.

1. Age
A. 18-27
B. 28-36
C. 37-45
D. 46-54
E. Older

2. Gender
A. Male
B. Female
C. Transgendered

3. Sexual Orientation
A. Straight
B. Bi
C. Gay or Lesbian

4. I would classify my debt as
A. Nothing more than just some friends and family I know who have helped me out when I was in a jam
B. A car note and credit cards mostly
C. A mortgage, school loans for myself or my children, and a home equity line of credit that was used to finance a project I was working on
D. Eternal to the spirits and orisha who guide my spiritual path

5. I identify myself as
A. A Human being not dictated to by color
B. Unapologetically African
C. African American or Black
D. A Nigga for Life

6. If I won 100,000 in the lottery, I would
A. Drink, smoke, sex, and party like there was no tomorrow while flossing in my brand new Hummer
B. Pay off my bills first, treat myself, and then invest anything left over
C. Never win in the first place, only morons buy lottery tickets
D. Buy some property in a warm climate and live off the land simply
Choose the answer that BEST represents your feelings.

7. Africa is
A. My cultural and spiritual homeland, the place where I long to return
B. A cesspool filled with AIDS, famine, and poverty
C. The country where slaves came from
D. The birthplace of Christianity

8. Big noses and thick lips are
A. Easily corrected with plastic surgery
B. Ugly
C. Beautiful
D. The facial features of many African Americans

9. Relaxers and Weaves
A. Are just one of the many styling options for African American hair, nothing more nothing less
B. Make women more attractive when done subtly
C. Cost too much money in salons when they can look just as good if you get someone who knows what they are doing
D. Enslave Black women to European standards of beauty

10. Christianity is
A. A tool used by the white slave masters to keep enslaved Africans mentally and spiritually oppressed
B. The best thing to come out of slavery. It saved heathen Africans from eternal damnation
C. Best practiced in silent reverence, without all that singing and shouting
D. No big thing to me, I gotta make money now and worry about heaven later

11. Welfare is
A. A failed liberal social Democratic agenda that drains the pockets of hardworking, tax-paying, productive citizens
B. Easily manipulated if you know how to play the game
C. A pittance thrown at Black people to maintain the undereducated and underemployed status of the oppressed
D. Most often an excuse for some Black people in the ghetto not to get a job.

12. Politically, I
A. Vote straight Democratic Party because historically Democrats have always been for Black people
B. Support fiscal conservatism and the immediate cease and desist of all liberal social and foreign policies
C. Am a card carrying communist, socialist, anarchist . . . whatever party represents the overthrow of this Fascist government
D. Could care less, voting don’t change a damn thing
Choose the answer that BEST represents your feelings.

13. Homosexuality is
A. A natural expression of human sexuality
B. An agenda, along with the Jews, to control the media
C. Not my cup of tea but what people do behind closed doors is their business
D. Freaky Deaky

14. 9/11 was
A. A highly suspicious act that set the stage for the US to wage war in oil rich middle eastern countries and oppress people of color
B. An attack against the principles of liberty and justice for all.
C. Sad but at least I didn’t know anyone who got killed
D. Equally as catastrophic as Hurricane Katrina

15. Illegal Immigrants
A. Can be kept out as long as we build a wall on the Mexican Border
B. Do the jobs I sure as hell wouldn’t do
C. Are innocent victims of capitalism and corporate greed
D. Should be prosecuted in a court of law and made to pay a fine for the burden on the taxpayers they’ve caused

16. Hurricane Katrina
A. Left a legacy of untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and depression that will manifest for generations to come
B. Showed just how stupid and criminal people can be if they don’t follow instructions
C. Was sad but was more than likely God’s way of ridding the earth of sinners to prepare for the return of Christ
D. Victims got PAID after the storm

17. Slavery
A. Was no more or less horrific than the Holocaust and the Jews rebounded just fine
B. Was in that movie Roots with Kunta Kinte and Chicken George
C. The fault of greedy African Kings who sold their brothers and sisters to White people
D. Is going to work every day for a corporate boss and making a substandard living while the CEO’s lavish in luxury

18. When it comes to food
A. Variety is the spice of life
B. I stick to hot wings and fast food most of the time
C. I prefer to fast every once in a while to re-energize my spirit
D. There’s nothing like a succulent Prawns with a mango salsa

Choose the answer that BEST represents your feelings.

19. Interracial Dating
A. Will end racism and discrimination in a couple of years when everyone is brown
B. Is reflective of centuries of brainwashing and an inherent belief in white supremacy
C. Makes the pretties babies
D. Is a viable option for many people who are climbing the corporate ladder and looking for partners who are intellectual equals.

20. Black men
A. Who are on the downlow are responsible for the spread of AIDS
B. Struggle with defining themselves because of years of conforming to the white man’s standards
C. Have the biggest dicks
D. Are criminal, lazy, drug addicts who do nothing all day long

21. Black women
A. Have the biggest asses
B. Show signs of self preservation when they marry outside their race
C. Represent the embodiment of the Goddess herself
D. Are achieving more in corporate America these days

22. Black people are
A. The originators of the humanities and sciences in ancient KMT
B. Equal to white people in every way
C. Always trying to blame someone else for their problems
D. Always going to be held down by the white man


Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK
All rights reserved
Scottie Lowe
fantasies@afroerotik.com

Tired of seeing black women being portrayed as ghetto bitches, freaks and whores, and black men as barely literate thugs, bulls, and pimps, Scottie Lowe decided it was time to show black people in a positive sexual light. Ms. Lowe is the sole owner and founder of www.AfroerotiK.com, a company dedicated to eradicating the negative and stereotypical depictions of Black sexuality and providing customized, personalized erotic stories for and about people of color. Her innovative approach to writing Black and interracial erotica is shattering misperceptions and opening the doors to dialogue about subjects long considered taboo.

Being the Partner I Want to Attract

I haven’t been in a real relationship in over 15 years. I haven’t been in anything that lasted more than a month. Well, that’s not true, I was with a young lady and we were partnered for about three months. I cooked for her, and planned special evenings with her and picked her up from work, the stuff you do when you are in a relationship with someone. It didn’t work with her because she had never been with another woman before and it was too much for her to handle the concept of being lesbian. She wasn’t able to be honest with herself that she was capable of forming a loving/emotional relationship with another woman so she sabotaged it by compulsive lying. Why it never works out with men I’ll never know.

I do know that with every person I meet, with every person I feel has potential, I try my best to be the sort of partner I want to attract. I make very conscious efforts to put into practice all the things that I’ve read about what it takes to form a healthy relationship. I don’t project my emotions onto the other person, I ask for what I want rather than assuming he can read my mind. I do my best to communicate my concerns in a way that doesn’t put him on the offensive but gives space for me to establish my boundaries. I apologize when we have an argument and I overreact. I’ve always been a great cheerleader/supporter/confidant. I don’t play games and I let my true feelings be known. I’m honest to a fault about my shortcomings and I ask for assistance in helping to grow. In short, I try to put out the energy that I want back. If I were in a relationship, I would want my partner to do those things for me as well.

It’s not working. As hard as I try, I’m not getting the same energy back. There must be some sort of glitch in the Matrix because I’m not meeting men who are as committed to forming a healthy as I am. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone to be able to be my cheerleader when I’m down. I’m not superwoman, I do get down occasionally and I’d like someone to say, “Don’t pay attention to those people trying to tear you down, you are a gifted and talented visionary and you have a mission and you are doing a damn good job accomplishing it.” I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone to apologize for a miscommunication, and especially not when he’s said something that was intended to hurt my feelings.

For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction, right? I’m putting the energy out and I’m not getting it back. I try my best to be the sort of partner that someone else would find desirable, to display qualities that would make someone want to form a relationship with me and I’m not getting any rewards here. Where’s the equal and opposite effort? Where’s the willingness to work through disagreements in a healthy manner? Where’s the willingness to prioritize me and my happiness just as I would prioritize him and his? I’m ready to be this phenomenal cook, lover, seamstress and all around creative/sensual diva (with the potential to make a helluva lotta money to boot) to my man and either no one is appreciating what’ I’m bringing to the table or no one is willing to bring anything to the table themselves. Is there no justice in the universe? Is there no respect for the laws of metaphysics in that I’m projecting my desires and not getting the same in return?