He Holds the Key to my Arousal in his Hands

Is it possible to be in love with a man for his hands? Well, I’m not in love with him FOR his hands, he’s an amazing man without question but I’m definitely in love with his hands. I can’t explain it. His hands actually turn me on. The shape of his hands, the length of his fingers, even the way he holds his fork drives me to distraction. I think I love his hands more than I love his dick. Okay, let me not go off the deep end, it ain’t that extreme, but his hands give me a special thrill that I just can’t explain.

I love watching him masturbate. It’s like sensory overload. Seeing him stroke the length of his dick, his fingers gripping it tightly, seeing the cum flowing over his fingers thrills me in a way that words can’t describe. I can suck his fingers or his dick and both arouse me beyond belief. One Sunday morning he brought me breakfast in bed. He thought he was being cute by dipping his finger in the honey and putting it in my tea. I grabbed his finger and started licking and sucking every bit of that honey. We had to go to IKEA and buy a new headboard that afternoon because things got so heated after that.

Who knew that hands could be a sex organ? The first time we kissed, he held my face gently in his hands and I felt my heart skip a beat. When I’m riding him, and his hands grip my hips, for a brief second, all my attention is focused on the feel of his hands on my flesh. We walk in the park and he’ll reach out to hold my hand . . . and I feel safe, protected, and secure in the connection.
His hands represent strength to me; the centuries of labor our ancestors endured building this nation that hates us so. His hands represent tenderness to me; his gentle nature is reflected in the movement of his artistic hands. I’m mesmerized when he wears his ring; it reminds me of a sunset over a beautiful horizon.

His hands pleasure me in ways that defy definition. When my body is warm and relaxed after a bath, he’ll anoint my body with oils and massage me to sleep. Well, his intention is to massage me to sleep but feeling his hands slide sensually up and down my body, caressing my sore spots and stimulating my hot ones . . . who can sleep?

We went out for drinks the other night, enjoying a few Afrotini’s and a little jazz. He pulled my chair close and whispered in my ear that he wanted me to spread my legs. My heart started pounding out of my chest. I felt the heat of his hands on my thigh as he moved up my leg, sliding my panties to the side. There, in the middle of a very public place, he took his finger and started rubbing my clit, causing me to signal for the waiter to bring the check and get the hell outta there. He had other plans. I grabbed the edge of the table and held on tightly as his fingers penetrated me, making me bite my lower lip to keep silent. Tease that he was, he stopped, leaving me desperate to cum. He ordered dessert and would wipe his sexy mouth with his cloth napkin, which was really nothing more than his discrete way of smelling my pussy juices on his fingers, inhaling my fragrance. Of all the things that I love about this man, it’s his hands that hold the key to my arousal. I know he was made for me, I for him, because even his hands fit me.

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK

The Sexy Christmas Present

Things had been strained lately between Derrick and Tynesha; they’d been arguing about small little things but it was wearing on both of their nerves. Derrick was going to go all out to make this Christmas special. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t made mistakes in the past, been untruthful, let her down. This year, Derrick had planned a special present that would show his devotion and love and cement his relationship to Tynesha. Derrick had purchased a customized erotic story from AfroerotiK for Tynesha that was intended to make her feel special and to let her know exactly how much he appreciated her for all that she had put up with, to be a symbol of how far they had come as a couple.

The story arrived in a priority envelope and Derrick hesitated as to what to do with it. He held it in his hands, studying it, reading it in private, waiting for the perfect time to present it to his beloved. He was bursting with anticipation, wanting to give the present to her but he knew that this would be a present that she would never forget, so he planned, he waited, he prepared for a night like none other. It was going to be a night so erotic, so sensuous, and so charged with electricity that he was convinced it would take their relationship to a higher plane, move them to a new level of communication.

Armed with the security of having the gift safely in his hands, having read it and seen the potential for the story to open doors of exploration, Derrick approached Tynesha with the special red envelope that held the story. He taunted her with it, telling her that her present was within her grasp but she had to wait. Tynesha wanted to open it immediately but she could see the look on Derrick’s face that let her know that she should trust him completely. All week long at work, Derrick was distracted with thoughts of the weekend to come. How would she react? He wondered if Tynesha would be willing to take a leap and explore her sensuality in new ways. He was nervous and aroused at the same time. There were several times he would find himself thinking about the hot and steamy sex that he was going to have with his beautiful lady and he would have to hide his erection from his coworkers. All he wanted was for
Tynesha to let down her guard and express herself the way she wanted; to give herself up to complete erotic abandon. He thought about how Tynesha would tell all her friends and coworkers about the personalized story she had gotten and the hours upon hours of erotic bliss that she’d experienced and how he would be forgiven, lifted even, to status of a hero for his special and unique gift.
Christmas eve arrived; it was do or die for Derrick. He made arrangements to get home early from work and set the stage for what he hoped was a very special evening. He ordered Tynesha’s very favorite take-out rather than try to make an attempt to cook and have an opportunity for things to go wrong. He had gone to Victoria Secrets to find something sexy for Tynesha to wear that would compliment her fine hips, thighs, and ass that he loved so much.

The anticipation was killing him. By the time Tynesha walked through the door on Saturday night, she knew she was in for a special treat. All the frustration she had with their petty arguments immediately disappeared as she realized that her man had done for her what other women only dream of having their men do for them. There were candles lit and the table was set. She could see the red package sitting neatly on the plate where she was to be seated but Derrick had other plans in mind. He poured her a glass of wine and they sat quietly on the sofa while he took her shoes off and massaged her feet. Tynesha let the wine warm her up a little bit and she made a silent vow to herself to let go of all her inhibitions and just enjoy whatever was to come.

Desperate with anticipation, Tynesha wanted to open her present. He gave her the first of the two presents, the lingerie, and told her to make herself comfortable. She emerged from the bathroom, looking like an erotic goddess, and Derrick almost forgot his entire game plan. He made her wait until after the food was served to open her very special gift. They ate and laughed without a care like when they had first met. It was almost as if they had been transported back to a time when they were carefree and passion was the only thing on their minds.

After dinner, a tiny bit tipsy from the wine, Derrick presented Tynesha with her very special gift. She opened the small book carefully and studied it, wanting to understand exactly what was happening, exactly what was going on. She read the words on the page slowly and looked around, sort of confused at what she was reading but more and more curious with every word. Derrick had apparently ordered a customized erotic story for her, but it was so lifelike it was eerie. The story before her described her relationship with Derrick and a really sexy and steaming description of how she seduced him, something she normally wouldn’t do. She read on, the words on the page going into greater detail about how Derrick wanted her to take the initiative with sex and get really wild in bed. It was more than apparent that Derrick was sexually aroused by his girlfriend and she was seeing his most intense sexual fantasies about her in black and white.

The more she read, the wetter she became. She started to squirm in the chair reading about this couple that was having an intensely erotic experience . . . but she was reading about herself. She glanced up at Derrick and his expression spoke volumes. He couldn’t wait for her to finish reading so he could make love right the on the table if need be. The more explicit the story got, the more her breathing became a task. She slid her fingers between her legs and massaged her clit a little. Derrick wanted to watch as she touched herself so he moved around to kneel in front of her and spread her legs.

 

“Read it out loud to me,” he instructed.

Tynesha’s voice cracked as she began reading the words on the pages in front of her. It was difficult to stay focused because Derrick had spread her thighs and started licking her wet pussy. She couldn’t concentrate on the story with that hot, wet tongue licking her and getting her more aroused. She pushed his face away and he moaned in desperation to taste her more. Tynesha took her finger, pushed it deep inside herself, and brought her lips to her mouth. She looked Derrick in the eye as she began to seductively lick the juices from her finger like she was sucking a dick.

Derrick had no more control and he unzipped his pants and started stroking his hard dick right there in front of her. Intoxicated with lust, Tynesha handed the individualized book to Derrick and said, “Here, now it’s time you read to me.”

Derrick took Tynesha by the hand and said, “Let’s finish reading this in the bedroom.”

As they made their way to the bedroom, the tension was building. He slowly undressed in front of her, revealing the body that had given her so much intense pleasure in the past, which was surely going to satisfy her every desire tonight. Naked and aroused, he lay back on the bed with the red book in his hand. He began reading the words on the page that described Tynesha giving him the most incredible head in the world. Tynesha, taking her cue, climbed on the bed and began mimicking the words she heard Derrick read.

Derrick couldn’t take the pleasure he was getting from Tynesha’s soft, wet lips so he tossed the book to the side to be finished at a later date and time. Right now, he wanted to get into the sensual sensations he was getting for the sexy woman that was licking, sucking, and swallowing his hard dick. 

Tynesha was like a woman possessed. She was giving him head better than she had ever done before; turned on by how special her man had made her feel. He knew she loved Zane’s stories but her own personal story was 1000 times better than reading a story about someone else. She wanted Derrick to feel as special as he had made her feel and she was proving it with her oral skills.

“No, wait baby, slow down. That feels too good,” he said, not wanting the celebration to be over before it started. Derrick wanted to get back to tasting that sticky sweetness he loved so much.

He laid his beloved Tynesha back on the bed and spread her sexy thighs. She was actually moaning in anticipation of feeling his soft wet mouth suck her aroused pussy. Derrick took two fingers and pushed them inside Tynesha and she moaned out as his lips encircled her clit. He was using his tongue to drive her crazy: licking, sucking, and tonguing her to tremendous pleasure.

Feeling bold, Tynesha pushed his head away, got up on her knees, and presented Derrick with the most perfect ass he had ever seen. She teased him, wiggling it in his face and taunting him to eat her out from behind. She spread the lips to her pussy with her fingers and told him in no uncertain terms, “Make me cum in your mouth.”

Tynesha was overcome with lust. She put her face down on the bed and let herself go to the pleasure. Derrick wrapped his lips around her clit, began smacking her ass and fingering her pussy at the same time. She was moaning and talking dirty, telling Derrick to not stop, of how good he was making her pussy feel.

Just as she was about to reach her special moment, Derrick stopped. He wanted to tease her just a bit. Take her to that place right before orgasm and then make her wait. However, Tynesha couldn’t be denied any more. She took matters into her own hands and made Derrick lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of him and held his dick at the entrance to her pussy. He could feel the heat from her body and her lips were soaked with her juices.

She looked him dead in his eye and said, “I’m going to use your dick to pleasure myself. I’m going to use it like a dildo to make myself cum tonight and all you can do is lie there and enjoy the ride.” Derrick’s eyes rolled back in his head. He’d waited for a long time to see his woman take control of her pleasure, to know that he aroused her so much that she just wanted to use him for her enjoyment.
He felt the head of his dick penetrate her and it was more intense than he had ever felt before. For some odd reason, this time, it felt like she was wetter, tighter, and hotter than she had ever been. Tynesha rocked back and forth; making his dick hit places in her that drove her to insane heights of pleasure. She began whispering in his ear as she was riding to orgasm.

“From here on out, things are going to be a little different. I want to show you exactly how much you turn me on so we are going to step things up a notch.” Derrick grabbed her breast and put it in his mouth, as she described all the naught fantasies that she wanted to fulfill with him. They were both moaning loudly, grunting and groaning from the intense pleasure. Tynesha could feel her orgasm about to hit her. It was coming fast as she began bouncing up and down on Derrick’s dick and using it to get herself off.

Dre had to concentrate on not losing it as he felt Tynesha’s juices cover him. She was cumming all over him, convulsing with pleasure. As much as he wanted her to feel enjoy her orgasm, he wanted to fuck the shit out of her, to make her feel him pounding her, thrusting himself inside her.

Still not finished with her first orgasm, Derrick flipped Tynesha over and put her on her back. He stared deep in her eyes and held her legs up in the air as he was about to penetrate her. “Do you forgive me,” he asked?

She mouthed the words, “fuck me,” to let him know that he had done a good thing and she wasn’t mad any more. Derrick shoved his dick deep inside Tynesha and began pumping with a steady rhythm. Tynesha wrapped her legs around Derrick, pulling him closer and closer, deeper and deeper. He could feel his nut about to explode and Derrick closed his eyes and surrendered to the feeling of pleasure

They drifted off to sleep together but the weekend was far from over. For the next two days, Tynesha and Derrick made use of every minute of the weekend until they were drained and exhausted. It was a memorable gift that set the stage for some intense lovemaking. Derrick could hardly wait for the Valentine’s story to arrive.

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK



My erotic stories are healing, transformative, and arousing. If you appreciate what I’ve done, if you enjoy my stories, if you are interested in reading my very best erotic work that hasn’t been seen by the public before, if you want to help me move to the next level, won’t you please consider writing an e-mail that shows your support.


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Scottie

I Miss Him

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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

AfroerotiK is . . . Playful

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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.

Click HERE to Listen

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.