Savannah Film Festival

The first week in November is my favorite time of the year.  It’s the time of the annual Savannah Film Festival and my own personal time for indulgence.  I just pack up a bag and head down to Savannah where I’m transported to a different place in time.  If I’m lucky, I can catch the fall foliage colors, hit the museums, and listen to some great jazz while I’m there as well.   Usually, I go as a spectator, taking in the film and surrounding myself with culture.  This year was going to be particularly special for me.  I was going to be debuting my first erotic short film.  Upon leaving last year, I decided I could do the same thing some of those other people I had done and set out to tell my story on celluloid.  I was nervous because there was no “genuine” Black erotic film out there and I was afraid of how it was going to be received.  I didn’t want people to think it was porn and I didn’t want intellectuals overanalyzing what I was intending to do.  I wanted to present to the world twenty minutes of cerebral dialogue, intense emotions, and exquisite lovemaking between Black people. 

I was disappointed because it was yet another milestone in my life where I didn’t have a partner with whom I could share my accomplishment.  I couldn’t dwell on it; I had to expose myself to the world.  I knew most people wouldn’t be able to appreciate it, so I just meditated on staying grounded.  I spent the morning in Forsyth Park right across the street from my Bed and Breakfast.  For me, staying in the Magnolia Inn was a far different experience than the other guests.  For me, it was a reminder of the slaves that labored to build its opulence while they lived as less than humans.  I thought of the black women that had been the possessions of white genteel masters that had to entertain late nights in the very chambers where tourist now casually laid their heads and long for the days of old.  No, for me, Savannah was the vehicle to my history, a dark and painful past that came alive to me in the tortured whispers of my ancestors. 

The Lucas Theater was relatively packed.  I held my breath and recited my brief introduction like I had rehearsed 52 times in my bathroom mirror.  I was praying that people would not be able to tell that I had never directed a community play before, let alone an erotic film.  I closed my eyes and let the entire thing play out in my head, I knew every second of that film by heart.  By the time it was over I had finally exhaled.  The kudos and the backslapping reigned down supreme.  Everyone was congratulating me on a job well done and talking to me about features and a whole bunch of movie industry terms I had never heard of . . . but I played along like I had. 

I saw him lingering in the periphery, waiting to make his approach.  He looked nervous almost, or hesitant might have been a better description.  The crowd thinned out and he made his way to me.  “I loved the fact that you gave him a sense of responsibility.  He was selective with whom he slept, I appreciate that commentary.  So many sexual representations of Black men make us out to be callous and indiscriminate with our partners.  Thank you.”  He turned and started to walk away without further introduction. 

“Wait . . . thanks . . . wait . . .”  There was something about his demeanor that, while soft-spoken, was genuine.  “No one else got that.  Everyone else thought it was just about the sex.”  He turned to face me and I couldn’t tell which one of us was more unsettled.  I didn’t want him to walk away but I was scared to appear too eager.  He was beautiful, there was no denying it, but more than anything I wanted to ask him what he thought, how the movie made him feel.  We stood in silence and stared at each other in awkward pause.  “My name is Robert, I really loved your work.”  We grinned and exchanged pleasantries through the awkwardness. 

“Do you have plans for dinner,” he asked, “If you like seafood, the Sapphire Grill is the best place in town.  I’d love it if you joined me.  We can celebrate the debut of AfroerotiK.”   It looked like it took every ounce of courage in him to ask me but I was the one that was nervous and flattered and speechless.  I felt like a schoolgirl being asked out to prom.  I accepted and he agreed to pick me up at 8.

Dinner was magical.  The conversation was seamless; we laughed and talked well into the evening.  We spoke of erotica and what it meant to us as Black people.  He listened intently as I went off into my passionate discussion of my work and what I wanted it to accomplish.  Wine loosened my inhibitions and I inched closer whenever I could, I made a point to rest my hand on his arm when he made a particularly interesting point.  I let my leg linger on his under the table and made sure my eye contact let him know in no uncertain terms that I was attracted.  I was feeling rather brazen, at least for me who spends the majority of my time in front of a monitor with little or no human interaction for weeks at a time. 

We stood at the steps of the Magnolia Place and talked some more.  “So, I have to ask one more thing. Was your film about your own personal experience?”  If anyone else had asked me that I would have been offended.  That was personal information that no one had a right to know.  The truth of the matter was that I was in everything that I wrote, every erotic story I created.  I knew my feelings and motivations better than anyone, so I didn’t have to guess what a character would say, or how she would react.  All of my erotica represented a side of me that didn’t have an outlet in real life. 

I looked him intently in his eyes and, without answering, took his hand in mine and turned to walk up the ivy-covered steps of the inn.  There was no turning back and I didn’t even have time to formulate a plan.  I was going off of pure adrenaline, and merlot.  Andrew Jackson would probably be rolling in his grave if he knew the things that were going to happen between the two descendents of slaves in the room named after him.  I didn’t want to speak; it would have broken the spell.  I just wanted this to transpire like a movie in my mind—a sensual, erotic scenario of artistry and magic. 

I kept the lights off as we entered the room and dropped my bag by the door.  I didn’t have to worry about what to do next as Robert turned me around and pulled me to him.  I loved that masculine instinct that took over, that thing men do when they want to unleash that primal beast.  It supercedes the reserved, conservative nature that some men have.  It’s so sensual; it makes me feel wanted and desired.  He pulled me into his arms and I reveled in the sensation.  I could feel his hands caressing the small of my back.  I didn’t want to speak because that would have broken the spell.  If I started talking, my doubts and fears would have crept in.  I didn’t want this to stop.  I wanted to live life for once with no safety net. 

The heat was intense between us.  I threw my head back and felt his lips on my neck.  My fever was rising.  I was unbuttoning his buttons as we moved backwards to the bed.  His kisses tasted sweet, his tongue was soft and yielding.  He gently laid me back on the bed and undid the ties of my wraparound dress.  I felt sexy, revealing myself to him like that.  My breasts were aching to be touched and caressed.  My eyes had adjusted to the dim light that peaked through the heavily curtained windows and I watched as he undressed at the foot of the bed; his golden brown skin a delicious contrast to my slightly darker mocha.  My hands caressed my secret places in anticipation.  He lifted my hips and removed my wet panties.  He held them to his face and inhaled deeply my scent. 

I slid back on the bed and he prepared his complete and relentless seduction. My neck was his first target and he kissed and sucked it, cradling in the gentle slope of my throat, licking his way to from my shoulder to my ear.  I threw my head back and moaned; it was my signal to him that I loved every second of his attention.  He found my hot spot and began gently sucking on it while his hands found my breast and began massaging them.  My nipples were aching from arousal as he slid his mouth lower and began sucking and licking all over my breasts.  My arousal was climbing to a fevered pitch as he was arousing me like he had a map to my body and knew exactly how to pleasure me.    I watched in amazement as he kissed his way down my stomach and made my belly button into an erogenous zone.  He made love to my tummy with his mouth; pampering me in a unique way no one else had ever thought to do.  The teasing became more intense.  Robert began kissing his way down the fronts of my legs, my hips, my inner thighs, every place except my incredibly aroused pussy. 

He positioned himself between my legs.  I was grabbing the sheets and thrusting my hips forward trying to get his to lick me.  He was blowing hot breath on my parted and aroused lips; the moistness of my inner flesh evident on my pink folds.  His mouth made love to my sweet, sticky center.  His tongue softly licked my clit and made me cry out with pleasure.  His fingers entered me and drove me to the edge of orgasm.  He was playing my body like a fine tuned instrument.  Giving me pleasure became his sole objective.  I was mumbling incoherently, “Yes . . . oh shit . . . yeah, lick my pussy . . . fuck . . . fuck me.”  I was pulling my nipples and his hands were caressing every inch of skin he could reach.  I placed my hands on his bald head and rested them there because he didn’t need instruction where to go.  He held my long legs up in the air and broke his silence with a pointed question, “Do you want me? ” 

I needed him more than I needed air at that moment.   I let my eyes respond, my eyes, my body and my heart.  I was relinquishing control, giving myself to passion.  I couldn’t stop; there was no turning back.  I didn’t want to be reserved and alone.  I wanted to feel like a woman and I wanted Robert to take me there. 

My moans were louder than they should have been.  He was teasing me and he knew it.  I needed to feel him inside me and he was torturing me with his slow seduction.  His mouth lowered to my hard nipples and I cradled his face in my hands.  I watched him in awe as his left hand touched my body like a paintbrush to a canvas.  He stopped only to position himself at my core and drive himself inside me in one thrust. 

“Mmmmm, no, yes, wait, don’t stop.”  My hands grabbed his ass and pulled him to me.  We fell into a rhythm, a solitary unit of passionate expression.  I was riding high and about to cum.  I shut my eyes tight and felt it about to hit me.  I pulled him to me and wanted to feel every ounce of his weight on me as I reached that place that I can only find in the passionate embrace of a beautiful black man.  His body tensed and I could tell his orgasm was only a minute or two behind mine.  My wetness coated him and added to the soundtrack of pleasure we were experiencing. 

He held me in his arms and I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.  I already knew what my submission to next year’s festival was going to be. 

Ó 2003 AfroerotiK

My Sexual Specialty

I want to arouse a man to the point of losing control.  Suck his fingers while I stare deep in his eyes.  I want to go down on him, lick him slowly, get his dick unbelievably wet, then suck him some more until he is begging me to cum, and then I stop, then do it over and over again.  I want to fuck myself with my dildo and lick my come off it in front of him.  I want to ride him until he cums deep inside me and then I would finger myself so I could lick it off.  What do I love?  I love it in public places.  I love dirty talk.  The nastier the better.  I love cumming until I pass out and then have my man keep fucking me.  I love it in the morning.

I want a man to do it to me deep and slow and intense.  I want a man that craves making slow, sweet, tender, gentle love to me.  I want a man to want me for me.  All of me, not just my face or body.  I want a man who is not intimidated by my intellect, and who sees more than just the outside.  I want a man who wants only my pussy, and no one else’s.  I want a man who can be creative, and that means more than just ramming it in hard and fast. I want a man to put some effort into seducing me, not just fucking me.

I want a man to share his most intimate secrets with me and know that I won’t betray them.  I want to come so hard and so many times that I can’t walk and he has to go to the kitchen to get me a glass of water.  I want to fall asleep with him sucking my nipple like a baby.  I want my man to wonder if he will ever get pussy as good as mine ever again in life.   I want a man to come so hard inside me that he doesn’t know where he ends and I begin.  I want him to stare at my pussy is disbelief that it gets so wet, tastes so good, and feels so hot.  That’s what I want from a man.

Making Love to my Man

Rodney was waiting for me in the bedroom while I got ready.  The steam in the bathroom from my relaxing bath had fogged up the mirror, but I really didn’t need it to see, I know my body in such intimate detail that I could get dressed with my eyes closed, blindfolded and in the dark.  Luckily, I had candlelight to help me as I unwrapped my terrycloth robe and began applying my Amaretto Truffle Coconut Body Oil from head to toe.  I loved the feel of the slippery substance between my fingers as I warmed it between my palms.  I started at my toes and didn’t miss a spot all the way up my legs.  I massaged the muscles in my calves and my thighs, feeling my soft brown skin slip and slide under my touch.  I poured more of the sweet smelling oil into my palms and rubbed it gently into the baby soft hair on my mound.  I couldn’t resist the temptation and I slid my fingers in between my lips and rubbed my clit gently for a few seconds, starting my sweet juices flowing.  As I worked my way upward, I cupped my breasts and softly pulled my nipples with my fingers.  By the time I finished my ritual-like anointment, I had massaged oil all the way down my shoulders, arms, back, and full round ass.  Rodney likes to call it my ghetto booty, I much prefer to refer to it as my Afrocentric behind, giving way to a less offensive description of my very bootylicious derriere.  When it was all said and done, I was glistening and smelling like a cookie fresh from the oven in grandma’s kitchen. 

 I put my ankh toe ring on and a cowry shell anklet around my ankle.  My belly chain lay softly on my hips, right above my black panther tattoo.  I chose a small charm of the sun for my navel ring and I pulled my dreadlocks up on my head and secured them in a style that would be sure to keep my shoulder length tresses out of the way later on.  I applied only the tiniest amount of lip-gloss to my full, sensual lips and I admired my adornments and prepared myself for the most dramatic accessory of all.  I slid the leather straps of the harness up my legs, over my thighs, and secured the fasteners tightly.  I felt my heart skip a beat and pulse race as I prepared myself for the pleasure that was about to come. 

The soft light from the television screen flickered and illuminated the bedroom.  Waiting on the black satin sheets, stroking his dick watching a video we had made of ourselves a few months back was my soul mate.  When he looked up and saw me, he started stroking his erection that much harder and staring me deeply in my eyes, connecting with me as only lovers can do that know each other beyond the realm of words.  His dick was completely hard and looked so inviting.  Rodney turned me on so much it was all I could do to keep myself from straddling him and lowering my hot, tight, pussy down on every steely inch of his manhood.  But tonight was a night for a different sort of pleasure. 

I moved to the edge of the bed and he stood to kiss me.  I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck.  His erection pressed against my stomach and I felt the moisture that had collected at the tip against my skin.  He grabbed my ass with his strong hands and kneaded the soft flesh.  I melted with his manipulation and met his thrusts with my own.  This time, his dick was met with my own formidable counterpart.  The hard, silicone, black dildo that I wore sensually rubbed against his own flesh and blood ebony column of hardness.  Our mouths found each other and we shared our lips and tongues in a passionate kiss. 

In an effort to get him prepared, I had him lay on the bed and I straddled his back to give him a much-needed deep tissue massage to help him relax from the stresses of a hectic workweek.  I poured a heated pool of his favorite ginger/fig/honey body oil on the small of his back and began working out the stiffness and creating more stiffness in other parts of his body.  I caressed and soothed away frustrations caused by contracts that didn’t get signed, vendors that didn’t come through with promises they made and clients that were making irrational demands.  His head lay serenely on his folded arms and I could hear him breathing peacefully as I worked my way lower down his body, to the backs of his thighs.  He spread his legs slightly and I rolled his heavy balls gently in my slippery fingers.  He arched his back at the stimulation and let out a low moan that let me know he was ready for more.  I had other plans however and I was going to prolong the pleasure for as long as I possibly could.  I massaged oil into the backs of his thighs and down his legs and took an extra long time rubbing the acupressure points on his feet.  Quiet as kept, he’s ticklish and every time I would hit the right spot, he would giggle like a little boy.  It’s so sweet when he does that I can’t help but get a little thrill from seeing such a strong man, in body, mind and spirit, squirming and laughing like that. 

I turned him over and had him lay on his back.  It was my turn to have my breath taken away.  His beauty is beyond words, its something that emanates from him, in the way that he carries himself.  His body is a work of art.  His smooth muscles rippled beneath his brown skin, and his stomach was a prototype for a washboard.  His dick stood proudly, inviting me to it.  I accepted the gracious invitation and made my RSVP with a sensual kiss. 

I lowered my mouth to the head and gently placed my lips to it.  I looked up at him as I bestowed the first of many kisses to my lover’s hard dick.  I took my tongue and began softly lapping at his precum.  “Mmmm, you taste so good.”  He tried to grab his dick and start stroking it again but I took his hands and held them firmly to the bed as I made my slow and sensual descent down his dick with my mouth.  I could hear him gasp for air and he gripped the sheets, letting me know that I could use my hands for other things.  I grabbed the base of his dick and began stroking it and licking it at the same time and he was thrusting his hips, trying to fuck my mouth.  My spit was running down his balls and I was rolling them between my fingers again. 

“Oh shit, that feels so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he kept chanting.  I knew the buttons to push and I worked his dick with my mouth.  I stared deep in his eyes and I started sucking my finger.  He knew the routine and spread his legs.  I took my wet finger and lightly caressed the tender skin around his asshole.  I barely touched it but he almost jumped out of his skin.  My objective was not to penetrate him, just tease him lightly so I circled my finger around the hole and kept licking and sucking his gorgeous dick.  He grabbed the pillow to cover his head and I put a stop to that immediately.  I wanted to experience all his pleasure and that included him moaning and groaning.  The beauty of our relationship was the fact that we could give and take pleasure so freely and I wanted to soak up every bit of his arousal. 

Rodney was never one to ask for more, especially when we were engaged in strapon games, he was always content to let me drive that ship, control the pace.  I told him, however, that part of the turn on for me was knowing how much he loved me inside him, of hearing him beg me to fuck him.  “Say it baby, I know you want it, say it for me.” 

He looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin, he was squirming and thrashing around on the bed, moaning and groaning.  I was relentless in my assault, deep throating him, licking him, sucking him, and rubbing his spot.  He was holding on to some macho bullshit rules that told him that he couldn’t ask for it but I would not let him get off that easily.  I was determined to hear him say it.  I can’t tell you how incredibly wet I get, knowing he wants me inside him, knowing I’m giving him pleasure like that. 

He rolled over on his stomach.  It was time to get a little more adventurous.  We were prepared for the night’s adventures so I reached over to the nightstand and took the Vanilla Cream Oil of Love and poured just a tiny amount right on his hole.  It gets hot when you blow on it so a gently breathed hot air on his hole.  Rodney was in heaven and kept telling me it felt good.  I took the tip of my tongue and started gently lapping at his hole, enjoying the way his body reacted to my tongue fuck.  It was more than obvious that he was enjoying it as much as I was.  I made a mental note that he was going to have to lick and finger my ass later on in the evening because I loved it more than he did.  He was at his limit for foreplay and finally said, “Boo, you know it feels good, come on,” but that wasn’t enough for me.  We’d been through too much together for me to let him get away with that.  I began rubbing the cheeks of his ass, making the full mounds slippery with the oil.  I took the bottle of lubricant and drizzled it all over my strapon, and began stroking it as if it were my own flesh and blood extension.  I loved the look of the beautiful brown penis that was protruding from my body.  We had chosen it specifically because it so closely resembled Rodney’s tool.  Fully erect, he is as thick as a can of one of those high caffeine energy drinks, you know the ones, and he is nearly twice as long.  I loved the life-like feel of the veins and exacting details down to the head with its pisshole. 

With my fingers slippery with lube, I began fingering him a little more.  I took the tip of my finger and put it in him and he started humping the bed like crazy.  I was working it in deeper and he was reaching back, pulling his ass cheeks apart, trying to get me to do it harder.  This wasn’t our first time, so he was able to accommodate my fingers and my strapon with relative ease.  “Rodney!  Tell me you want me to fuck you now.  Say it.  Beg for my dick in your ass.”

That was enough to send him over the edge.  What did Vanessa Williams say?  “Welcome to the comfort zone, when you need to be loved like you need to be loved.”  Rodney was in that zone.  He got up on his knees, put his face down and looked back with lust in his eyes and said, “Fuck me!” 

I swear I almost came right then and there. 

I took the slippery head of the dildo and placed it at the entrance to his hole.  I took my hands and rubbed them all over his back and thighs and he was practically pushing back trying to get me to fuck him. I held the dildo steady and worked the head in.  The heat in the room seemed like it was at full blast but it was actually just our sexual heat.  I looked down, at the point where I was penetrating him and I felt like I was literally inside him.  I felt like I could feel that dildo like it was my own flesh and blood.  I took a deep breath and I started pushing it in further.  Rodney was loving it and begging for more and who was I to deny him?  I was stroking and pounding and fucking him deeper.  Every time I hit his spot, he would moan out and inspire me to give him more.  I reached around and grabbed his dick and started stroking him at the same pace I was fucking him.  I swear he was literally screaming into the pillow.  He was fucking me back hard and trying to get more and more of that strapon inside him.  I started spanking that ass, letting him know I was in control, and he was loving every second of it.  My nipples were aching I was so aroused.  My pussy was leaking juices that were running down my thighs.  My clit was being stimulated every time I would bury every single inch deep in his sexy ass.  There was no way to fight it, he was going to cum and cum hard and I wasn’t going to be far behind him. 

I grabbed his hips and worked my strapon with skill.  “Come baby, give me that cum.  Prove to me that you love me fucking you hard and deep.”  He grabbed his dick and started stroking it, gripping it tightly and working that hot white cum up from his tight nuts.  “mmmmmmm, I’m going to cum, oh fuck, I’m cumming” 

I released the straps that held the harness in place and pulled the covers up over us.  We snuggled together, exhausted from the experience before we both drifted off to sleep.  Before the weekend was over, we would fuck in every way imaginable and I would cum so many times I actually passed out from pleasure.  It’s indescribable how much satisfaction I get from making love to my man . . . in every way imaginable. 

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK

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