AfroerotiK

Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

The Thrill of Exposure



Tracy was the more adventurous partner in the couple. Eric wasn’t really conservative, he had a wild streak, but it was usually reserved for behind closed doors. It was she who took unnecessary chances and risked getting caught in situations that could be potentially very dangerous. It was the thrill that drove her to try new things in public, and unfortunately for Eric, he could only resist for so long until his hard dick told him otherwise.

Today was no exception. While going through the rather mundane chore of grocery shopping, a chore they usually did together to make it less of a burden for one person, Tracy started flirting and making sexy suggestions in Eric’s ear while picking out produce. “I bet you’d love to shove this huge, fat cucumber in my asshole, wouldn’t you babe?” Eric just shook his head and tried to tell her to be a little quieter; he didn’t want other people hearing her lewd comments.

While pretending to reach for a tomato, Tracy rubbed her hand against Eric’s pants, making sure to caress his dick a little longer than she should. “Will you stop that! Come on, it’s not funny. I don’t want to get thrown out of Publix. How embarrassing would that be?”

“I’m sorry baby, she said, sticking her tongue in his ear and acting like she didn’t have a care in the world. They were a few aisles away when Tracy took the opportunity to bend all the way over reach for something on the bottom shelf and Eric could CLEARLY see beneath her short skirt that not only was she not wearing panties, but that she had a butt plug in her ass and she had no shame in showing off to him.

“Jeez, Trace, what are you doing?” His words sounded outraged but his dick was harder than a rock. He grabbed her by the arm like a father does a child and they didn’t even finish getting the things on the list. He was tempted to leave the cart in the aisle and go home so he could fuck the living daylights out of her. Tracy convinced him that they should at least pay for the things they had already gotten because they were certainly going to need some nourishment later in the evening.

In the parking lot, putting the bags in the back of their SUV, Tracy took the opportunity to pull the back of her skirt up intentionally and spread the cheeks of her ass to make sure Eric got one last view of her toy. Paranoid, he looked around to make sure no one else was looking and pulled her skirt down and demanded that she get in the car. The windows weren’t tinted but he hoped they were high enough away from prying eyes to keep people from seeing him whip out his hard dick. Without a word being spoken, Tracy swallowed him whole. She pulled the zipper down on her top and freed her tits. Eric fondled them with one hand while his other hand kept a steady pressure on the back of her head. It wasn’t because Tracy was reluctant to suck him off, it was because he was so close to cumming he couldn’t have her stop. Tracy sucked and licked and swallowed like there was no tomorrow, driving her man crazy with their very public antics. Cum shot so hard from Eric’s dick that he thought he was going to choke his lover. Shot after shot erupted as he moaned out. Tracy took it all like a champ and licked her lips. It wasn’t until they were unpacking groceries at home that Eric noticed that Tracy had put that cucumber in the cart.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK



Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Our First Place



We put the key in the door of our first home and crossed the threshold hand in hand. We had just come from the closing and the house was officially ours, ALL 2,200 square feet of mid-century Ranch amortized at 6.34% for the next 30 years of it. For a couple of dykes, buying a house together is the closest sort of commitment you can get to getting married. Sabrina was feeling sentimental, going through each room and dreaming out loud of what our lives were going to be like; the Virgo in me was feeling overwhelmed and anxious at the amount of unpacking we had to do just to get to our toothbrushes, towels, and dishes.

I have to confess, when I was watching her unpack, with her red and white scarf tied around her head and her favorite t-shirt with a big ole rainbow on it, I had to marvel at her beauty, both inside and out. She was so calm, so grounding for me. She’d made coming out to my family not easy, but tolerable. She made all the gross and offensive comments from men who thought they could “change me with their super dicks” bearable. She just fits me perfectly in every way. We’ve been together for four years. That’s equivalent to 16 heterosexual years for a lesbian couple and we’ve been together longer than all of our gay friends, both male and female, have ever been in a relationship combined.

I’d just about finished getting the bed frame up when I heard our doorbell ring for the first time. I ran downstairs to see who it could be and I saw Sabrina paying a delivery guy for some takeout food. She’d set up a makeshift table in the living room by taking one of our moving boxes and putting a sheet over it and she decorated it with flowers from our garden in a jar from the garage and some candles she got from who knows where. “Come and get it,” she said, as we sat down on the floor to dine on some Chinese food on the first night of the rest of our lives together.

I was overwhelmed with the feelings of love I had for this woman. “You know, I adore you, right?”

She looked at me and half-laughed. “Of course I do. And I love you too.”

“No,” I said, “I adore you. You mean the world to me. I don’t even want to think what my life would be like without you. I can’t even imagine who I would be without you.” I started to get really emotional and the words got choked up in my throat. She crawled over to my side and I put my head on her shoulder. She kissed the top of my forehead and I reached up to kiss her. Her tongue found mine and we shared an intimate kiss that grew more passionate with each passing tick of the clock. I lay back on the living room floor and she climbed on top of me, pressing her body into mine.

“Mmmm, we don’t have any curtains up yet . . . . we should . .. Stop,” I managed to say.
True to her rebellious nature, she said, “I don’t give a fuck. This is OUR house,” with heavy emphasis on the word our, and if I want to make love to my wife, and people want to watch, then so fucking be it.” With that, she slid her hand between my legs and pressed her palm against my mound. My body responded before my common sense could and I was pulling her t-shirt over her head while she was freeing me from the restrictions of my clothing.

We made love, on the floor, the very first night in our brand new home. Reclining back on an overstuffed pillow, I spread my legs and she made a dessert out of my breasts, licking and sucking my hardened nipples until I was begging her to go down on me. She kissed her way down my stomach and spread my legs. Taking her fingers, she spread the lips of my pussy and softly, gently, licked my clit until I was squirming and moaning and holding her mouth to my wet slit, wrapping my legs around her head and demanding that she let me cum in her mouth. She worked her tongue up inside me and her fingers found my asshole. I was cursing and screaming and telling her how good she made me feel and thankful we weren’t in our old, tiny one bedroom apartment with thin walls.

I turned over and got up on my knees and she alternated between driving her tongue in my pussy and my ass, causing me to reach back and spread my asscheeks wider so she could do her magic. She licked me from my clit to my spine and back again and I was grinding my pussy all over her face. She playfully slapped my ass and warned me that if I didn’t hold still that she was going to stop. Like hell she was going to stop. She wanted my cum and she wasn’t going to stop until I was flowing all over her.

She did a Bruce Lee sort of move and flipped around until her pussy was against mine. I could feel the heat of her warm cunt and the wetness of her slippery folds. She scissored her legs with mine and started bumping and grinding away, clit to clit. It was like our pussies were French kissing. I could feel the first signs of my orgasm approaching and I begged her to stop. I wanted to make love to her, to eat her, to enjoy every inch of her body first. She didn’t listen and she kept taunting me, teasing me, telling me to cum. “Give me that cum baby. Bathe me in your sweet honey. That’s it, squirt all over Mami. Oh yeah, baby, fuck me with that hard clit of yours. “

That sent me over the edge and I exploded. We curled up in each other’s arms and lay there for a while, just basking in the glow. I stroked her hair and intertwined my brown fingers with hers. She said, “We’ve christened one room, just think, we have six more to go.”

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Butt Fucking


My boyfriend and I both LOVE anal sex. And when I say we love it, I know that I can’t get enough of it and he’s an anal enthusiast to say the least. If I had my way, I could take a dick in my ass every day, twice a day if I had the chance. Kevin, on the other hand, likes to keep a little variety in our sex lives so he has me on anal restriction. I can only get butt fucked twice a week so I have to ration it out until I’m desperate for it and I can’t take it anymore.

Kev can always tell when I when it’s “my time” because I start getting a little more frisky. While we’re fixing dinner, I’ll be sure to rub my ass against him a little more than is necessary. I find lots of opportunities to bend over so he can see the ass that still makes his head turn, even after two years of being together. It usually backfires on me because by the time he starts grabbing my ass and rubbing his hard dick against me, I’m ready to let dinner burn, bend over the counter, and beg him to slam his dick in my horny backdoor.

If I make it through dinner, and maybe even a little TV or music afterwards, I’m pretty anxious to get to the main event. We’ve gotten into a little routine. First, Kevin will give me an enema. There’s nothing like raw, natural ass fucking, earthy, musky, and dirty the way it’s supposed to be. And trust me, there have been plenty of times when I can’t wait and I have to have him in my ass without any preparations. But Kevin has a really big dick and it just fits better and goes deeper when we take extra precautions.

I love the whole cleaning process. There’s something so arousing and erotic about being so completely vulnerable when someone else is giving you an enema. At first, I thought the entire concept was humiliating but now, I’m so glad we’ve incorporated it into our play. To be honest, I think that adds to the eroticism of it for me. When I feel that tubing go in my ass, I get turned on beyond belief. Kevin likes to make it really intense for me so he’ll be sure to rub my clit and play with my nipples and whisper all sorts of delicious and nasty things he’s going to do to me while the water is filling me up. I am such a freak for anything in my ass so I love the feeling of the water filling me up. He massages my stomach and slides the nozzle in and out, driving me fucking insane with lust and making my pussy literally dripping wet with desire. The need to get fucked and fucked really hard, however, is greatest in my ass to be sure.

While I’m taking care of business in the bathroom and showering up quickly, that’s Kevin’s time to get out lube, toys, videos, and whatever else we might need. By the time I’m back in the bedroom, Kevin’s desire for anal play has taken over and he’s usually as hard as a rock. That’s excellent for me because I don’t need much foreplay when it comes to getting my ass reamed.
I get to decide what position I want it in. My favorite, not surprisingly, is on my knees. It feels animalistic and primal to have that thick meat sliding in and out of my ass from behind like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve ridden Kevin’s dick with my asshole until he was sore, and I get off on seeing his face when I’m on my back, holding my legs up, while he’s pumping hot cum in my ass from above. But any true anal lover will tell you, there’s nothing better than getting that dick in you doggy style, face down, with him grabbing my hips and ramming it home, until I’m screaming and cumming and passing out from pleasure.

When I climb on the bed, I get into position and reach back with both hands so I can spread my asscheeks and he applies the lube. Most times, he’ll start out by licking my ass first, sticking his tongue in it and getting it nice and wet. I swear, with his saliva, my pussy juices, and my unashamed NEED for him in my ass, I don’t need any lube whatsoever but he always insists. By the time he’s finished working the lube in my ass with his thick, strong fingers, I’m so horny to get my ass fucked I can’t take it anymore and I’m usually screaming, “Stop teasing me, fuck me in my asshole, ram your big hard dick in my ass now, damn you.”

You know that feeling, when the head of that dick slides in your asshole, that feeling of out-of-this-world pleasure? Well, it’s that feeling that drives me crazy. That and knowing I’m about to get nine of the biggest, blackest, sexiest inches of dick pounded in my ass like I’m a dirty faggot whore. Say what you want but I can take a dick in my ass better than any man can. I like it deep, hard, and long and I always end up begging for more. And Kevin knows how to deliver. He’ll take his time at first, working every inch of that dick inside me, pushing past my anus until he’s deep in my colon. GOD, I love that feeling and I could stay like that all night. I can’t keep still long enough for that so I end up fucking him back, letting him know that I can take more.
By the time he and I have gotten into a nice rhythm, he’s pulling out all the way to the head, and slamming his dick balls deep back in my ass. That’s when I’m in my zone and I can’t get enough. He calls me his filthy ass whore and I cream all over. He tells me my shithole belongs to him and I have to bury my face in the pillow to keep from screaming. He pulls his dick out and I dive on it like a cock-craved slut while he tells me to lick my nasty ass juice from his filthy dick. It’s only when he slams it back in, and he’s pounding me, fucking me, thrusting every inch of his massive dick in my asshole, only when he’s pumping my ass full of that hot cum that I’m satisfied. I cum all over his belly, coating his balls and thighs with my juices as I feel his softening dick slide out of my gaping butthole and know that I have to wait another three or four days until I can get satisfaction again.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Friday, May 02, 2008

Give me a Hand



I love being pushed to new limits, new heights of ecstasy. I love feeling like I can share anything and everything with you. Can I tell you a secret? I hope you won’t think less of me. Sometimes I want . . . well, let me just say I love the way you pleasure my body. Sometimes I feel like I can’t get enough. I feel like I’m addicted to the pleasure I get from your touch.

Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I like feeling your fingers inside me. I love the way you fuck my swollen, wet pussy with your fingers and you probe and push my buttons that make me feel so good I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. Your hands are so big and strong, so masculine, and I feel so much sensual bliss when you are fingering me to the brink of orgasm.

I want to feel more of you. When you have three fingers in me, I feel so full, so sexy. Go ahead and put four fingers in me; I can take it. Yeah, it’s going to be a tight fit but go for it. I’ll pull my legs to my chest, allowing you greater access. Can you see my wet pussy and hear my moans telling you to go further, deeper? MMMMMMM, you’re almost there. You know what I want. Don’t make me say it. Please, just do it. Fuck, push it in deeper. Shit, it feels so good. Damn you, fist me. Fist my wet pussy; make me scream. I feel so full. Shove your entire hand in my wet cunt. Punch fuck me. Ram your hand in to the wrist and let me fuck myself on your whole hand. God, it feels so fucking good. More, I want more. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe how nasty it feels, it feels so fucking sexy, so intense. I’m going to squirt all over you. I’m going explode all over you while you fist fuck my wet, horny pussy.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK



A Stroke of Luck

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As Smooth as Silk



I like to splurge sometimes on life’s little luxuries. It makes me feel sexy to have some of the world’s finest silk caressing my body beneath the severe business suits I have to wear during the day. Delicate satins, sheer lingerie, and alluring teddies in red, black or pink contrast my conservative public demeanor quite uniquely.

Of course, at night, I can completely let my hair down so to speak and be as decadent as I want to be. Just know that tonight, I’ve taken an especially long time bathing, pampering myself and making sure every square inch of my body, from my perfectly pedicured red toes to my matching red fingertips, is soft, supple, and waiting for you to explore. While we are at the restaurant dining, you can imagine my full breasts encased in black lace, waiting to be released so you can suck my hard nipples. My matching black lace panties are already moist as my pussy leaks with sweet juices in preparation for your mouth.

If you think you can be discrete, you can slide your hand up under my skirt and caress my thighs. My silk stockings are imports directly from France. The seam runs perfectly up my sculpted calf and the sexy lace at the top is secured with my garter belt. We have to be especially careful not to run them so perhaps when we get home, you might want to use extra caution when removing my black, patent-leather high-heeled stilettos. A nice foot massage would feel really nice; feeling your hands caress my high arches and your mouth sucking my toes would drive me crazy. You licking and sucking my nylon-covered foot is highly erotic and I couldn’t help but rub my other foot on your hard dick, desperate to be freed from your pants. Of course, if you like, we can keep my stockings and garters on while you fuck me, feeling my silk-covered legs wrapped around you as you drive your erection in my hot, tight, pussy over and over as I call out your name.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Pregnant with Desire


Aiesha made it through the first trimester of her pregnancy with relative ease. Her morning sickness was minimal and her husband, Kalfani, was more than supportive, even sharing his own sympathy aches and pains along with her. It was a joyous time in their lives and they couldn’t wait to welcome the arrival of their son to the family.

To say that Kalfani was attentive to his pregnant wife was an understatement. Every evening, before they retired to bed, he replicated the same routine to pamper and spoil her. He would begin by drawing a warm bath, scented with aromatherapy oils, and he would join her in the tub, bathing and washing her body with a soft sea sponge and cocoa butter soap. Cradled between his legs, he would lather her womanly body that was even curvier being with child. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive and he would caress them gently, eliciting moans of pleasure from Aiesha. It wasn’t just Aiesha who enjoyed the treatment; Kalfani’s erection would be pressed securely between the globes of her ass, evidence that he loved rubbing the tender curve of her round tummy. After the bath, Kalfani would dry his beloved with a soft, fluffy towel and lay her on special satin sheets he purchased just to spoil her. He would anoint her body with brazil nut and almond oils from head to toe, finishing up with kiwi or passion fruit scented lotion.

With her hormones in overdrive, by the time Kalfani had finished slipping and sliding his strong, masculine hands up her smooth brown thighs and over her sexy, full hips, she would be desperate for sexual satisfaction. Spreading her legs and exposing her swollen and dripping wet pussy, Kalfani would stare in awe before he lowered his mouth to taste her succulent and sweet juices. Aiesha, driven by her body’s hormonal changes, was insatiable. She would explode in Kalfani’s mouth, drenching him in her sticky cum, and be ready for more within a few seconds. It was heaven for Kalfani, loving that his wife was super-sensitive and constantly horny. 


When she couldn’t take any more, Aiesha would push Kalfani away and indicate that it was time for the main event. Laying still and fully erect, Aiesha would then climb on her partner and position her hole right above his hard-as-steel dick. Taking her time and using caution, she would lower herself on his erection. The sensation was out of this world for Kalfani, feeling the intensity of her pussy walls, literally pregnant with arousal, and coating him with her juices. Reaching up, he would place her puffy nipples in his mouth and nurse from her as his radiant wife would ride his hardness to orgasm.

Up and down, she fucked him. She milked his dick with her silky walls; she fed him with her full breasts. Her body was aglow with arousal and she craved the sensation of being full with the two males she loved most in this world inside her at the same time but in different ways. At his limit for stimulation, Kalfani would deposit his cum deep inside his wife in the place where they created life together.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Black Strapon Punishment



She emerged from the shadows like a panther, her silhouette bathed in candlelight. The round curves of her full Ebony frame were a stark contrast to the eight inches of protruding Black dildo that was strapped to her body. He knelt before her, humbled by her majestic and powerful presence, this Divine representation of beauty and strength.

She caressed the sides of his face, her fingernails grazing his cheek gently. He knew his assignment without having to be told was to lick and suck that strapon to prepare it for the severe assfucking he was about to receive. He knew it wasn’t real but he wanted to show her how much he worshipped her pretend dick, how much he longed to give it pleasure. He kissed the head softly at first then licked it up and down. She moaned in appreciation as he feverishly kissed, licked, sucked and swallowed it passionately. She grabbed his head forcefully and thrust her hips forward. He gagged and choked, tears forming in his eyes, but he knew it was his responsibility to take every black inch deep in his throat.

Thoroughly lubricated in his spit, she pushed him forcefully to the floor. “On your knees slut, I’m about to give you the ride of your life.”

What was she doing back there? Couldn’t she see he was ready? Why was she making him wait? His asshole was thoroughly lubed and he was on he knees prepared to take everything she gave him. He’d spent many nights, in the safety of his home, riding huge black dildos, fucking himself with big hard black cocks. He could take anything she had to give him and then some. He wanted to be fucked, spanked, used and fucked some more.

He felt her hands on his thighs, her nails gently running up and down his legs. He wiggled his ass more, trying to make himself more inviting, to appear more slutty. He lowered his face to the floor and reached back to spread his ass cheeks. His asshole actually itched, needing to be filled with her ebony Strapon.

She placed the head of it against his asshole and asked, “Are you ready bitch?” All he could do was moan and wiggle his ass more. She pushed forward slightly and the head was inside him. He grimaced in pain, the sensation of her penetrating him more intense than any of his solo play. But he would not be denied, he’d waited to long to find the Ebony Domme that would fuck him senseless, to make his boy pussy nothing more than a slutty hole to be used at her whim.

She pushed more and it hit his spot. His dick jumped and twitched and he had to fight to regain control. He feared that he would cum without even touching himself. She was all the way inside him, buried deep in his guts. His senses were overwhelmed and he was leaking precum on the floor.

“Tell me what you want, whore,” she said.

“Oh Mistress, fuck my slutty pussy, rape me, take me, make me your slut, Mistress. Fuck me hard and deep ma’am. Fuck the shit out of me.” His words became a jumbled and incoherent mess. Her hands were gripping his hips; she was riding him hard. She slammed into him over and over again. He was fucking her back with everything in him and she wielded that Strapon with precision and skill. She pushed forward more and he moaned out in pleasure. All 11 inches of her Strapon were buried in his ass and, at that moment, he became an extension of his Black goddess.

Copyright 2004
AfroerotiK


Wednesday, April 30, 2008

What is important to me.



The most important thing in my life is breaking the chains of mental slavery that bind African Americans today. Liberating us from the belief systems we learned in slavery is paramount to any other thing I can do in my lifetime. We hold on to the things we learned in slavery and they are detrimental to our psyche, they debilitate us, they cripple us emotionally and psychologically, and we defend those things to the death. It is of the utmost importance to make my people see that the things that are considered normal, the beliefs that have gone unquestioned for centuries, and the way of life we adapted when we were enslaved are poisonous to our souls.

Being loved and loving is important to me. I was created to give love. I have so much in me to give. To shave my love with someone is the greatest gift I could be given. To love a mate and children are essential to my existence. As an expression and manifestation of The One Most High, it is my responsibility to love. Loving humanity, loving the earth are all expressions of love but for me, the most important love to share is that with the family one creates.

Eradicating racism is important to me. Ridding white people of the false sense of superiority that allows them to rule and dominate the world is essential to me. Restoring truth and balance to the universe is my job. I’m sickened by the perpetuation of white supremacy around the globe and I will cry out at every instance in order to stop the diseased thinking that has perpetuated genocide, slavery, and oppression of people of color around the globe.


Monday, April 14, 2008

Minority Affairs

When the alarm on his Blackberry went off, reminding him of his 3:00 appointment, Kevin Reynolds was almost tempted to reschedule. He was all the way on the other side of town at a meeting with a real estate developer at a construction site. With traffic, it would take him no less than twenty minutes to get back to his office and he would be rushed. As fate would have it, the fortuitous winds of destiny were blowing, and keeping that particular appointment would be the best thing to ever happen to him.

Kevin’s job as the Business Development Coordinator for the City of Sausalito, California had him on the go constantly. Part of his job responsibility was developing minority business for the city. He was so entrenched, so consumed with the demands and rigors of his position that he’d forsaken any attempts at trying to maintain a social life. That would have been a sad state of affairs for most people but for Kevin, it was really just an inconsequential byproduct of having his dream job. Given his recent forays in the romance department, he really didn’t mind. Lucky in love was not a saying that could be used about his love life as of late. It wasn’t as if he bad looking, at 6’ tall with black hair and blue eyes, was very handsome but he was maybe a little too much of a nice guy to be considered edgy in today’s dating pool. He’d heard the infamous, “I think we should just be friends” speech too many times to count. He’d expanded his dating pool to women of color in the past few years and he was comfortable with that but he hadn’t been able to form anything long-term thus far. Timing is everything and his job was just taking up too much of his time for dating. Nevertheless, he loved his work and he was enthusiastic, no passionate about attracting the sorts of businesses to Sausalito that would benefit the residents and the community as a whole.

Exactly on time, with a minute or two to spare even, his appointment was waiting in the reception area as he introduced himself and asked for a few minutes grace period to put his things down and get situated. “You must be Ms. Jenkins. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, the City Manager, Mr. Gold, I think you’ve already met with him . . . he gave me some preliminary information on your venture and I’ve done some prep work in anticipation of our meeting and I just want to go over a few things before we meet.”

Sylvia Jenkins stood to respond, extending her hand as an act of civility and yet igniting a spark that would fan the flames of unspoken passion. She was breathtaking, nothing less than abso-fucking-lutely, stunningly, insanely gorgeous, and Kevin was caught off guard momentarily with her grace, charm, and style. At 5’4” tall, with skin the color of bronze and almond-shaped eyes that danced with light, she was the epitome of Black beauty. Her hair was a mane of flowing dreadlocks adorned with beads that were twisted and piled on her head in some sort of creative crown-like hairstyle that defied gravity and the laws of physics. Her full, sensual lips parted to respond but the words were momentarily lost on Kevin because he was captivated by the sexy pout and the shiny lip-gloss that accentuated the most perfect smile he’d ever seen. Wearing a white cotton blouse that would have been conservative on most women, hers wrapped around and sort of had ties in the back or something that gave just a hint at a very, VERY, voluptuous cleavage. It wasn’t unprofessional, like a stripper inappropriately showing off her new set of triple Ds, it was just sort of a declaration of her womanhood. A long denim skirt that went to the floor and hugged her undeniably round bottom and full hips completed her outfit. She wasn’t fat; she wasn’t even heavy set. She was just the sort of woman that was blessed with heavenly curves in ALL the right places.

She smelled like an exotic combination of flowers and tropical fruit that was subtle yet intoxicating. She wore an arm-full of copper bracelets that made a sort of musical sound as she moved her hand. Her skin looked like it was the most expensive chocolate-colored silk that had been imported from a distant land. Even after taking in all the details of this exquisite woman in a split second, Kevin was able to pull himself back together and remain professional enough to hear her say, “Take your time, it’s not a problem.”

Her venture was an exciting one for the city of Sausalito. She was opening a cyber café/gallery/bistro right downtown. It was the perfect location and the concept was complex but genius in its simplicity at the same time. She was attempting to create a space where people could come, explore unique African imports for sale in a hands on environment, have some dessert, drink some herbal tea if that was to their liking, connect to the net, and even have some space where she could offer various classes and workshops taught by artisans and talents from around the country for two or three week at a time. The meeting went seamlessly as Kevin walked her through the final paper work that she would need for her project, assuring that there would be as little red tape as possible with permits and licenses and the many steps it required to have such an intricate business plan.

It was also a venture that would have the two in constant communication for several months. An artist herself, Sylvia wanted to have a residential space in the space above her storefront that could house the various instructors she wanted to come and teach for a few weeks at a time, that could be used as a studio, and a place for her to crash when she didn’t want to go home. That meant putting in a kitchenette, a shower, and getting residential permits. That required a whole ‘nutha set of paperwork to process and deadlines that couldn’t be missed and just the sort of red tape that Kevin was expert at circumventing. He was there to help her every step of the way and he made the process seem effortless, shielding her from the tedium every chance he got and going above and beyond to make things flow smoothly. He wasn’t doing it to try to gain points or seduce her. He was simply doing his job and being true to his nature to be a gentleman.

Sylvia was appreciative yet professional. On more than one occasion, he would stop by the storefront at 7 or 8 at night, after a long day of his own; only to find Sylvia painting or unpacking boxes herself. He never even inquired if she had a boyfriend, a girlfriend, he never asked if she dated interracially, he never asked about any aspect of her personal life. He kept their interaction professional yet her beauty mesmerized him each and every time he laid eyes on her.

The grand opening of Mombasa was an event like none other. Kevin stopped by to congratulate her and wish her well. The place was filled to capacity with an eclectic mix of people; there were spoken word artists, drummers, reflexologists, and curious passers by who tasted some of the delicious desserts that were being given out for free. “I want to thank you for all the help you gave me during this entire process. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Sylvia said, as she kissed Kevin on the cheek and quickly disappeared into the crowd to mix and mingle as she beamed with excitement.

It would be several weeks before he spoke to her again. Having put her project to bed, Kevin was deeply engrossed in his next project and pouring himself into work as usual. He was pleasantly surprised when he answered his phone to hear Sylvia say, “The Chamber of Commerce is holding that black tie fundraising event at the Crowne Plaza on Saturday night and I was wondering . . . I didn’t know if you . . . I was thinking . . . “

Sensing her unease, Kevin cut her off, “Oh, are you going to that thing too? I was going to make an appearance. I can stop by and pick you up if you want to carpool.” Regretting his choice of words, not wanting to sound like he was being too aloof, he quickly amended it to say, “I’d love for you to be my date if you would do me the honor. It would be my distinct pleasure to accompany you.” He was thinking on his feet because prior to that very minute, he’d never even known that she might have had a personal interest in him. He wasn’t even sure she did have an interest in him romantically, all he knew was she was fine as hell and if she wanted to go to a formal affair with him, there was no way he was going to say no.

For Kevin, the evening was alive with potential. He bought a new suit for the occasion and had flowers for Sylvia when he picked her up at Mombasa. She was even more breathtaking than usual, attired in an evening gown that accentuated her body to perfection. “Wow, you look fantastic,” was all he could say, rendered essentially speechless by her beauty.

“Thank you,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek for the second time since their meeting, this time it seemed to linger a bit longer than the first time. She did a twirl and showed off her outfit and said, “Shall we go?”

For Kevin, the evening was an extension of work, introducing movers and shakers to policy makers and trying to coordinate deals outside the office. He as shaking hands with everyone and he didn’t really have as much time as he wanted to spend with Sylvia. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it just seemed that every time he set out to focus solely on her, someone would interrupt and he would go back into Business Development Coordinator mode. Several of his co-workers were giving him slaps on the back and nods and winks, implying that they had no clue that he was dating a Black woman, and such a hot one at that.

“Excuse me Miss, you look rather lonely sitting there, would you care to dance?” That was Kevin’s chivalrous attempt at adding a little romance to the evening as he extended his hand and wanted to show Sylvia that he appreciated her being so tolerant of him being pulled in so many different directions during the evening. Sylvia didn’t mind being left alone. She liked watching Kevin do his thing. It was part of the reason she was attracted to him. She was attracted to his understated power and efficacy at what he did for a living.

On the dance floor, everyone else seemed to fade away. Kevin held her close and ran his hands up and down her back. For the first time in months, he was reminded of his dormant sexuality as he could hear gentle moans of pleasure emanating from Sylvia as they sort of swayed to the music. For the rest of the night, he paid attention exclusively to her. They talked and laughed and seemed to emit a signal that they were not to be interrupted for business or any other reason. As the night wore down to a close, he offered to take her back to her car and call it an evening.

“You never saw the complete finished product,” Sylvia said as Kevin escorted her to her car. “If you have a few minutes, come inside and I want to give you the grand tour, considering you were so instrumental in helping me.”

He really couldn’t have cared less about the tour. He wasn’t being rude; it’s just that he was captivated by the way Sylvia’s ass moved in that dress and when she walked in those high heels. He mumbled, “That looks nice,” more than a few times, not really mentioning that he wasn’t talking about the various pieces of art or the décor of her establishment.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like to see the upstairs portion? It turned out fantastic.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up a back staircase. Kevin was expecting something close to a sparse dorm room with a futon, a cook top, and a half fridge, but what he saw looked like a beautiful showroom. It was decorated in beautiful fabrics and colors, there was artwork all around and lovely touches that made it feel like a home.

“You did all this yourself? It looks fantastic! I should have known that if you were going to do anything you were going to do it well.” While intended it to be innocent, there was a sexual undertone to the comment that was felt by both.

“If you only knew, sir,” Sylvia replied, and winked to acknowledge the chemistry that was tangible. “Would you care for a glass of wine, you don’t have to go now, do you?” She offered graciously but she was prepared for him to decline her offer.

“I don’t mind if I do, thanks,” taking off his jacket and making himself comfortable on the cozy loveseat. After the second glass of wine, and even more conversation, the two began to get a little more comfortable with each other. Before either of them realized it, it was 3 in the morning. It

Being a gentleman, he rose, saying, “I better get home. Will you be okay staying here for the evening or would you prefer I call you a cab to get you home? I don’t want you driving. I’ll leave my car here and come get it in the morning, well, I’ll come get it in a couple of hours since it’s already morning.”

Taking his hand in hers, she said, “You don’t have to go.” There was a moment of silence when they both knew what was about to happen but didn’t dare say anything to break the spell. She stood and faced him. Time stood still for an instant and he tilted her face to his and they kissed.

Things certainly went from zero to sixty, but it took quite some time to get there. Both Sylvia and Kevin took their time, exploring each other’s bodies, and capitalizing off of each second of sensual pleasure. They kissed for what seemed like hours on that little loveseat. He wouldn’t be rushed so Kevin kissed and licked her neck, finding her hot spot and making her moan in pleasure. He licked her ears and whispered the sorts of naughty things he wanted to do to her. She would respond by spreading her legs and grinding her body in time with his. Her hands roamed freely over his back, caressing him and unbuttoning his shirt at the appropriate intervals.

At some point, her dress ended up on the floor and Kevin could do nothing but stare in amazement. She was more perfect than he had ever imagined. Her beautiful breasts were round and full and capped off by the most delicious, dark, suckable nipples he’d ever seen in his entire life. Her tiny waist held a belly chain that lay softly on her hips and sparkled in the moonlight. Her big ole booty was what made women envious and men weak with lust. Kevin was no exception and he found himself wanting to just start at her pretty pink toenails and kiss and lick his way up her whole body.

That’s exactly what he did in fact, well, that’s what he started out to do. Laying her down on the bed for more room to stretch out and get comfortable, he began exploring her body with his mouth. He parted her soft, brown thighs and couldn’t believe his eyes. Her pussy was magnificent and it was all he could do not to just dive right in and devour her. Her inner pink lips opened to reveal themselves like a beautiful orchid. He gently rubbed the tip of his finger over her exposed and hardened clit and he saw her body respond to his touch. She arched her back and gripped the sheets, moaning and encouraging him to go further.

Inserting his finger in her hole, he could feel her slippery, wet juices flowing freely. She responded with more moaning this time but she was more vocal. “Oh Kevin, eat my wet pussy. Lick it. Suck me. Make me cum in your mouth. Don’t tease me; stick your tongue in me. Put my clit in your mouth and lick it.”

Kevin didn’t disappoint and he ate her pussy like it was better than the five star meal they had earlier in the evening. Sylvia didn’t stop. “Oh shit, that feels so good, yeah, fuck, eat me, don’t stop, eat me. Damn, I love the way you are working my hot, wet, pussy with your mouth, do you like the way I taste? I’m going to nut all in your mouth.” That was just what he wanted to hear and he went into overdrive to bring her to orgasm. She held his head to her pussy and wrapped her sexy legs around his head. She was grinding on his mouth, using him, fucking his face. Noticing that she wasn’t saying much, he looked up only to see her sucking her own nipple.

Kevin was blown away by how sexy she looked in the moment and stood up and took off the rest of his clothes and straddled her body. He pushed her tits together and cradled his cock between the soft mounds of flesh. The contrast in skin color almost made him blow his load right there. He pinched her nipples gently and began thrusting his white dick between her brown breasts. Sylvia was not one to be passive and she started licking the head of his cock, sucking it between her soft, full lips.

Leaking precum, he grabbed the shaft of his cock and fed it to her, feeling her hot, wet mouth envelop him as she swallowed him. He let her control the pace and she used her mouth like a vacuum, trying to suck the cum from his nuts. There wasn’t much time for a blowjob, as sensual and as hot as it was, because Sylvia was encouraging him to go further. “Fuck me, Kevin. Pump your cock in me. I want to feel you inside me.”

That’s just what he did. Flipping her over, he positioned her on her knees. He took another taste of her pussy from behind, teasing her delicious asshole with his tongue this time and getting ready for the ride of a lifetime. He grabbed his cock and lined it up with her hole. The heat was intense and he could feel the muscles of her pussy walls grabbing him before the head was even inside. He held her hips and pushed forward, hearing her cry out. Once completely inside, she looked back and said, “Fuck me, Kevin, fuck me.” And that’s just what he did.

He pumped his engorged cock in and out of her wet, hot pussy. He stroked and thrust and drove every single inch of his hard meat inside her. She was going wild, chanting and moaning and begging for more. Her full ass was wiggling and bouncing up and down and the wet sounds of sex filled the small room as he kept pounding her. He was a man on a mission. He was intent on satisfying this incredibly sexy woman but he wanted to pour himself into the passion that he’d been denying himself for so long. He fucked her harder. She moaned louder. He could feel the cum in his nuts boiling up. He looked down to see his white cock glistening with her juices as she cried out, “I’m cumming, oh shit, I’m cumming.” He couldn’t hold back any longer and he pulled out and shot his cum on her ass.

They cuddled together until the late afternoon, waking and showering and doing it all over again. Six months later, the couple was still going strong, Mombasa was doing quite well and Kevin was even happier and fulfilled in his job, having found the balance that made his life quite content. Every day, at 3:00, he had a standing appointment to send Sylvia a text message letting her know that he was thinking about her and that she was his first priority.

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK

Thursday, March 20, 2008

I love my pussy



I love my pussy and I refuse to share it with undeserving men who are superficial and shallow and who have no respect for me as a person or an individual. I honor my pussy because I respect is as the most sacred place on earth, it is my temple. I don't shave it, I love it in its natural state. I may trim it every once in a while but I don’t want it to look like a little girl’s, I’m a woman and I like looking like a woman. I don't feel the need to have jewelry pierced into it because a vagina shouldn’t need fashion accessories. I love my pussy and I would never think of using it as a medium of exchange for goods and services. I love the way it tastes, the way it smells, I love the way the lips close neatly. I love the way my juices flow when I’m about to cum and the way my orgasms make it spasm. I cherish my pussy as holy ground and invite only reverent priests to trespass between its hallowed walls. I love my blood that gives life and nourishes. I love my clit and how responsive it is to the most tender touch. I love my pussy and all that it means.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Sex Workers


There’s a school of thought floating around, led mostly by women who sell their bodies, that says that to legalize prostitution is to somehow give “sex workers” some sort of autonomy in the buying and selling of their “goods”. Hey, that sounds like a plan. While we’re at it, let’s legalize slavery too why don’t we? Selling one’s humanity, selling one’s essence, selling one’s body creates an abyss, a karmic, emotional wound so deep it can’t be healed. How can one ever turn back the time to a place BEFORE they gave away their most sacred and intimate gift? How can one ever erase the memory that they were once a hole to be used, a receptacle for someone’s carnal and base desires for $100? The legalization of sex, the commodization of it doesn’t mean we as a people are liberating our views of sexuality. It’s placing a dollar value on one’s personhood. Sex should be about intimacy and communion, not a dollar transaction.

The selling of sex damages the people who are selling their bodies and the people who are buying the sex. To own a human being, to purchase someone’s body, even for a short period of time, to do with it whatever you want because you have paid for it creates a distorted and warped sense of power that perpetuates not only the objectification of (mostly) women but it creates a sense of entitlement in the world as if anyone can be bought and sold for a price. Those individuals with more money can buy more expensive ass. That creates a warped mentality in those who don’t have the same financial means who want to posses as much power as the ones who can buy any piece of ass they want. It perpetuates the fallacy of supremacy, capitalism, and a false sense of power of the individuals who have the money to buy any hooker they want. It creates further objectification of women in that the most expensive hookers have the traits most desired by the men with the most money, i.e. white men. So the blonde haired, big booobed, Barbie Doll continues to reign as most desirable while anyone with traits that don’t fit the ideal has to discount their pussy in order to pay the bills.

To place a dollar value on your sex, to sell it like a ham in the meat department, to give away your autonomy as a human being to pick and choose your partners based on love, compatibility, attraction, and/or lust is to cheapen your entire identity. How does one set the price for their pussy? How does one determine what their soul is worth? Where do you draw the line? You let some total stranger do some foul, gross, disgusting thing to you because they’ve paid your going rate. The same goes for women who have sex with their “special friend” in order to make ends meet, to pay for child care, and to get that designer pair of shoes. Once you have placed a dollar value on your sex, you have cheapened yourself.

I’ve never had sex for money. Not once in my life. Not for a car note, not for my rent, not for a little spending change, not in exchange for anything that had a dollar value. Does that make my pussy more valuable than someone who has? YES, INFINITELY! Does that make me morally superior? No, but it is an indication that I have a more profound sense of self-worth. My body, my sexuality, my love is priceless; there is no amount of money that can purchase me. There is no amount of money in the world that could make me lay with someone for currency. Legalizing prostitution damages me as a woman who refuses to participate in the exchange of goods and services for sex in that it makes men who buy sex think that they can purchase my body and treat me however they want because it allows them to see women as objects and not human beings deserving of love, respect, commitment, and the things necessary to form a healthy, mature, loving relationship.

The women who sell their pussy like it’s no big deal, who rationalize that it’s the oldest profession, that people are going to do it regardless, that there might as well be regulations on it to prevent the spread of disease, etc, are pawns of a patriarchal system of oppression that allow men to dictate the value of what a person’s body is worth. That’s slavery. “Sex workers” are not empowered; they are not taking advantage of the men who would ordinarily take advantage of them. They are sexual chattel in a capitalist scheme of power and domination.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

The Womanist Theory

I’m always amazed at how quickly Black women embrace the term womanist and reject the term feminist. You hear the same argument all the time, “Well, I don’t really hate men so I consider myself a womanist.” Emasculating or hating men has NEVER been the agenda of feminists, that's nothing but bullshit rhetoric from immature and insecure men who want to keep women silenced and maintain their privilege of oppression. Then you hear the argument, “White women have commandeered the feminist movement for their own agenda so I consider myself a womanist because of what Alice Walker wrote about in her book, “In Search of our Mother’s Gardens.” Here’s the news flash. White people commandeer everything to fit their agenda and Alice walker didn’t come up with a womanist theory, she wrote “womanist prose” a term to describe the soulfulness and struggle of Black women. If there was ever an opportunity to help white women understand our plight as Black women, womanist shut the door on that by not allowing them the opportunity to learn and grow from exposure to us. White women are capable of understanding our plight if we explain it to them. Will they take up our banner as diligently? No, nor should they.
Black women are so terrified of being called lesbian and so afraid of offending patriarchal Black men with the term feminist, that they’ve embraced the term womanist and it’s gone unchecked. Ask a Black woman, “What’s the difference between a feminist and a womanist?” “Well, a womanist is more concerned with Black issues.” Does that mean that we need to come up with a different name for Democrat since I’m more concerned with Black issues than white Democrats? “Well, a womanist is more concerned with the family.” Well, white women get married more than Black women so this Black womanist movement isn’t being particularly effective, is it? Entire bodies of study have been created at universities all over the nation in order to appease the insecurities of Black women who are terrified of being called a feminist for fear that someone is going to assume they have hairy legs and wear flannel.

Feminists work to dismantle the social, political, and economic disparity between the genders.

Feminists aren’t lesbians, although they can be, feminists don’t hate men although we certainly have a right to hate their privilege.

Feminists aren’t “against the family,” as so many Black men want to imply.

Feminists simply take a stand against the oppression and tyranny of women under the false assumption of men being somehow inherently superior.

You lessen your position of power if you refuse to face Black men head on with their misogyny and you attempt to side step them by using a more neutral term that they don't object to. just because you want the world to know that you want a man. You can not be a warrior in the struggle if you are starting your crusade from a place of concession. If you refer to yourself as a womanist, you’ve already said to the world, “I don’t want to be equal to men because I don’t want them mad at me for being too radical.” Womanism is not the lite version of feminists, it's not the Black version of feminists, it's the patriarchal conformation to Black men's insecurities.
If there is a platform upon which we can stand and unite, all women, it is the feminist one which states that we will be seen as human beings and not objects, that we serve a greater role in the world than doing housework, being mothers, and being receptacles for sperm to satisfy men’s lust. We are individuals with equal strengths to bring to the table as men. They are not the same strengths, but they are equal nonetheless.