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.

Monday, August 29, 2016

My Man



I recently communicated with my ex-husband with whom I've not spoken in 22 years.  I've had a lot of time to heal from his betrayal and lies but while he moved on, well, he married his mistress, I've not found true and abiding love in the subsequent decades.  I have to confess, that physically, my ex-husband is my ideal.  I was as physical attracted to him the day we broke up as the day we met.  I find it ironic that several of my current requirements he had when we were married but I found them offensive or not assets at the time.  My tastes and standards have evolved tremendously as well as my knowledge of self.  I get that one can never find perfection, and I’m not seeking perfection but merely someone perfect for ME.  I am utilizing all of the law of attraction methods I know to manifest a man who matches my needs.  I would like to be partnered.  I would like to find a mate with whom I can share my time and space and energy, whom I can love and be loved by.  We all have our preferences and tastes but I think that with the closure I had with my ex-husband that the Universe might just see fit to bring me someone incredibly close to what and who I am looking for. 

It seems that any time I write about my preferences in a mate people get their panties in a bunch, because apparently, nothing offends people more than me stating what I want in my partner.   I always seem to get the most vitriolic and hateful responses from people who feel that my standards are too high or they don't like my criteria because they don’t meet them or they don’t want the same thing I want in a partner. I’ve been told more times than I can count that I should lower my standards and be satisfied with the superficial criteria they use in choosing a partner or that my criteria is impossible to find and I’m being unrealistic.  My response to my detractors is this:  1. I’m not average.  I’m not looking for someone average.  I am not asking for anything that I don’t bring to the table.  If I exist, then certainly there is someone out there who matches my energy.  2. I don’t really care if you are offended by my list.  If you don’t meet my criteria or you want something different in a partner, that’s fine by me.  

Finally, I'm always willing to compromise on the things I want but I'm not willing to settle on what will make me happy.   I know the elements that are essential for me to be happy in a relationship and I know the things that are niceties that are the icing on the cake.  I would never overlook a man who brings all the essential components I require to the table just because he’s not the right height or he doesn’t have every single thing I am asking for.  More importantly, it’s not anyone’s business to tell me what I should or shouldn’t compromise on.   

Shall we begin?  OK. 

It goes without saying that he must be a Black man.  I'm outrageously turned on by someone the same skin tone as me as I adore making love and seeing our limbs intertwined and not knowing where I end and he begins.  Again, it’s my preference, but I'm putting it out there what I want.  I’m attracted to a man’s essence, his character, his intellect, his integrity, and his gigantic heart so he can be any shade under the sun from blue black to ultra light.  His consciousness must, however, be that of a Black man.  I don’t want an assimilated, acculturated man who wants to be white or thinks that we should all be colorless.  I want a Black man, inside and out. 

I'm attracted to men who are 6'3" or 6'4".  I'm 5'10", I love to wear heels, and that height just fits me perfectly.  I'm much more apt to date someone shorter rather than taller because, oddly enough men who are 6'5" or taller just "don't fit".  5'11" is the absolute shortest I'd want to go but my dream man is 6'3" tall.  I’ve found that physical attraction is a key component in the integrity of my relationships.  I was not physically attracted to my last partner and I convinced myself that I was attracted to him physically because I was so attracted to his intellect.  Looking back, I remember times being in the grocery store and holding hands with him and feeling uncomfortable because in the back of my mind I didn’t find him attractive.  I didn’t consciously acknowledge it but I knew it was always going to be there from the minute I laid eyes on him.  I love a man who is 6’3” because it makes me feel warm and tingly when I stand on my toes to kiss.  I love the sensation of having a man be taller than me when I’m dressed up and we go out.  I love the way I can find my exact spot in his arms when we are snuggled in bed, they way my body conforms to his.  I love the look of a man in a suit when it falls just right  . . . it just gives me chills.   

It's hypocritical of me to suggest I want a man whose body is tone when I know good and god damn well that I'm currently 20 pounds over my ideal weight.   I would like to think that there is a man who is active and trim, not a gym rat, not a hard body, who doesn’t mind a woman with some mature curves.  I don't at all intend to stay the weight that I am currently but I also don't think I have to be perfect before I find the man who is perfect for me either.  If I meet a man and he’s got a few extra pounds, we can work it off together.  I’m cool with that.  I’ve dated men who were big and handsome and, again, it’s about maintaining that physical attraction.  I don’t want to have to manufacture attraction to my mate.  I want it to be organic and real. 

I'm not a size queen.  I don't want a guy with a gigantic dick.  Ouch!  I much prefer average to slightly above average.  Seven inches would be perfect for me.  And while we are talking about sex, I’d like him to be sensual, romantic, and erotic.  They are all different things and I’d like him to be versed in all of them.  His sexual skill has to have evolved past hitting it, stabbing it, and killing it.  If he’s willing to take his time and pleasure me, I’m going to put it on him like he stole something.  He MUST understand the art of being verbal during sex but it can’t be based on calling me a slut or a whore.  His skill must have evolved past what he learned when he was 16.   I love exploring fantasies with my partner but he must be evolved enough to understand that everything I think about are not things I always want to do.  Sometimes, I just enjoy talking about taboo, kinky things.  I’m addicted to intimacy so it’s about sharing and being transparent and being completely open, it’s not about going out and doing everything that crosses my mind.  Finding a man who gets that is essential. 

I actually prefer a hairless man.  I modicum of body hair is not at all a turn off but very hairy men don't do it for me.  Smooth, baby soft skin?  I’m drooling.  Oh, and I have a thing for hands.  I’m not even sure I know what it is but something about a man’s hands and fingers captivate me.  It’s not a fetish or anything and I don’t even know what sort of hands I like, I just know that I like nice hands. 

I will not date a Christian man.  Never again.  I would prefer he not be atheist because atheists tend not to acknowledge the wonder of the universe and how Divinely ordered we all are collectively.  Any and all organized religion is off the table with the exception that I will consider dating a man who is Buddhist.  My preference is someone who is spiritual, not religious, and who has a holistic, integrated view of science and consciousness interconnecting.  What?  It's my dream man.  I can ask for whatever I want.  Meditation, yoga, some centering/grounding practice is a must. 

I will never ever again in life date a man who identifies as heterosexual.  He must be OPENLY bisexual.  He has to be comfortable with his identity as a versatile, bisexual, Black man.  He has to be anally aroused and have toys to satisfy his needs when he is without a partner because he is discerning.  I will not tolerate someone who goes out and hooks up with strangers and sucks men off in glory holes to satisfy his cravings for sex with another man.  He must have loved another man, been in a relationship with another man.  He will be comfortable with his identity as bisexual, just as I am, and he will not be obsessed with unsafe and dangerous behaviors because he's tormented by not being straight.  This is an absolute, no compromising. 

He must be monogamous!  I'm bisexual and monogamous so I expect that from my partner.  Once I find my ideal partner, I want to focus all my time and energy on loving him.  I want him to do the same for me.  I get that it's unpopular to identify as monogamous these days but there are so many unhealthy, dysfunctional people in the world that when I find the man created for me, I don't want to bring another person's energy into our relationship.  I will work like a Hebrew slave to make sure that we stay happy, that we communicate our needs, desires, fears, and concerns with one another.  That takes commitment.  Having other people in and out of our bed will only serve to be a distraction and potentially infect our relationship with their negative or unhealthy energy. 

If he is a kinkster, meaning he is in the BDSM world, I would prefer that his role be that of a Dom to white men exclusively.  Black doms who dominate white women?  No thanks.  I want nothing to do with men who think it's a turn on to be a BBC nigger buck/bull.  If fucking white women is a turn on for you, I'm not the woman for you.  I will not even entertain the idea of a man who dominates Black women. You are degrading your mother, your sister, your daughter.   I want our relationship to be one of equals, partners, who love each other passionately, not a power play.  I am not submissive, I will not ever be submissive.  I do not desire to dominate my partner.  I am not attracted to men who want to be submissive to me.  He doesn't have to be a kinkster but if he is, I would like him to enjoy dominating white men with me.  (We can discuss and negotiate if we will do it together as a couple and how we will deal with the sexual element).  I'm perfectly fine if he's not in the life as well but I'm hoping that he will be understanding of the fact that a significant portion of my sexual arousal comes from divesting white men of the fallacy of white supremacy. 

If I'm creating the perfect partner and the ideal life together, I would like to us to share the perfect submissive together.  I would like it if we could find one white man who would belong to us, whose energies matches our own.  I don’t want a full time/live in sub, just one who could play when the need strikes us.  Since I’m using up all this manifesting energy, I should probably take the time to make out my own little list of all the things I’m looking for in an ideal submissive.  Finding my lover is the most important thing.  If he has no interest in dominating white men, I never have to dominate another white man as long as I live. 

Culturally he has to be super Black, Black-Black-blackety-black.  I don't care if he is as light skinned as Walter White (don’t ask, look him up), I need him to make Jesse Williams look like an arm chair activist.  He has to be committed to the liberation of Black minds.  My greatest fear is that I will find a man who is all the things I’m looking for and he won’t meet this one criteria.  I want him to love black art, and be knowledgeable about black history, and listen to jazz and love Alvin Ailey as much as I do but something in my gut tells me that the man who is created for me won’t be willing to confront racism with as much unapologetic fervor as I do.  I don’t want that to be an issue of contention for us.  It’s all speculation and conjecture because obviously I haven’t found anyone even close to meeting my standards yet but something tells me, I have a very strong FEELING, that this is the one thing that will challenge us most.

Politically, he has to be as left-leaning as one can get before falling off the scale and landing in Guantanamo.  I need a socialist who believes in helping the poor and the under-educated become self-sufficient.  Moderates are offensive to me.  Conservatives are repulsive and repugnant.  He has to see himself mirrored in people of all nationalities and colors around the world as well as fight for our unity, not our division. 

While he does not have to be as intellectual as I am, he must be well-read, he must be entertained by music and art and literature that is far beyond what the masses consume.  I want him to love to dance, and if he can salsa that would be a huge plus.  He not only has to read, he has to be captivated by my writing and want to devour everything I've ever written.  I want him to love the theater, and not those crappy Madea plays.  I want him to enjoy neo soul and rare grooves and world music and straight ahead jazz.  If he is well-versed in many topics and can speak about them articulately at dinner parties, I don’t need him to understand the fundamentals of quantum physics or explain the axiological parameters of indigenous consciousness.  I can discuss those things with academic colleagues. 

My man is creative/artistic.  I want him to be able to express himself with music or art or painting or sculpture or acting, hell, it can be jewelry making.  I can’t stand men whose only interests are sports and video games.  They bore me.  I want someone who is passionate about creating art.  My art is my writing.  I want to create art together.  I want to write songs together or a play or create some lasting and profound body of work that is our creative baby. 

Actually, I should re-order my list to make his emotional traits first.  To say that I want a man who is emotionally mature is an understatement.  He MUST be emotionally mature, first and foremost, not compromise.  He has to apologize when he’s wrong, he has to be able to communicate his concerns without projecting and deflecting blame or guilt.  He can’t be self-centered.  He has to know his issues and his triggers and be constantly working on them. He must be driven to evolve constantly.  His commitment to honesty and integrity is imperative.  I need an excellent, effective communicator.  He has to prioritize our relationship and understand that the minute he isn’t happy, he has to tell me so that we can decide if it’s time to move on or we need to change the dynamics of our relationship.  I am not tolerating a sexist, patriarchal, misogynist man.  He’s not like that at all.  I know him.  I feel him. 

Weed, or natural botanicals are the only drugs I’m comfortable with him doing.  We both drink alcohol in moderation.  I’m lacto-ovo pescatarian but I don’t mind a carnivore at all.  His food tastes have to be advanced beyond fried chicken wings from the Chinese spot, or the same boring foods that he eats over and over however.  A bit of a foodie would be awesome.  An organic foodie would be preferable.  My man has a unique sense of style.  He can wear a tuxedo and look damn good and wear jeans without looking like a 20-something rapper. 

One of the most essential traits for my man is that he can’t be intimidated by me.  He can’t be intimidated by my intellect, my activism, or by letting my star shine.  He has to be completely comfortable with the enigmatic being that I am and still see all the facets of me, even the fragile, insecure, damaged parts.  He has to be supportive and nurturing and be my biggest cheerleader. 

Notice I didn’t include car or job or income or wealth or house or any of those things.  Those things don’t matter to me.  Those things are truly superficial.  I would like a man whose aesthetic tastes are complimentary to my own so that one day, when we build a house together and furnish it, that it can be filled with the art and furnishings that we both love.  I would love our garden to feed all our friends and family and neighbors.  I would love to make love to him every single solitary day until we are old and ready to transition.  That’s my dream. 

Well, there you have it Universe.  I’ve put it out there.  If I can see it, I can achieve it.  Bring forth the manifestations of my desires to me now.  And so it is! 

Sunday, August 28, 2016

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.  I’m not submissive, I just adore a big, juicy, hard dick in my asshole.  If I had my way, I could take a dick in my ass every day, twice a day if I had the chance.  Gregory, 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. 

Gregory 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, Gregory 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 Gregory 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.  When I feel that tubing go in my ass, I get turned on beyond belief.  Gregory 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 Gregory’s time to get out lube, toys, videos, and whatever else we might need.  By the time I’m back in the bedroom, Gregory’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 Gregory’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. 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 Gregory 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 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.  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


Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Attention Light-Skinned Women





I am putting every light-skinned Black woman on notice.  Hence forth and forever more, after the vile, reprehensible, racist/colorist/misogynoir comments that Leslie Jones has been subjected to, from racist white people AND from coon-ass, self-hating Black men, be prepared for me to curse you out like you’ve never been cursed before in your life if you have the audacity to suggest that somehow your plight as a light-skinned Black woman has been similarly tragic or painful to that of the dark-skinned Black woman.  I’m going to make you regret your callous and thoughtless words if I read one single comment from a light-skinned Black woman saying, “Oh, boo hoo hoo, I got called ‘too pretty’ or ‘high yellow’ when I was young and it hurt my feelings.  My pain is just as valid as dark-skinned women’s pain,” Im’ma curse you up one side and down the other.  If I overhear one single solitary light-skinned woman say anything other than, “While I’ve been subjected to taunts and comments that hurt my feelings because of my lighter skin tone, I fully acknowledge that dark-skinned Black women have been subjected to FAR worse than anything I’ve ever been subjected to and my heart goes out to every dark-skinned woman who has ever been ridiculed, demonized, degraded, or humiliated because of her beautiful, rich, deep, melanated skin tone.”  It’s called empathy for someone whose plight is worse than yours.  Try it. 

You lose NOTHING, not a god damn thing, by saying that dark-skinned women are treated and have been historically treated exponentially worse in this society than light-skinned women.  It’s been that way since the first captured African was impregnated.  Black men will not think you are uglier.  You will not get less dates.  You will not turn dark-skinned overnight.  All you have to do is find a little humility in your heart and acknowledge that our society consistently and pathologically treats dark-skinned Black women like shit.  Want proof? Finish this joke.  Your mama is sooooo light . . . Wait, you can’t, can you?  No, because you’ve never been subjected to the internalized racism that dark-skinned Black women face from their very own community and you certainly have never been called the unspeakable names that racist, coward whites feel free to hurl over the internet.  What’s worse, being called a “red bone” or someone saying, “You think you cute,” or being called a jungle bunny, porch monkey, Ubangi African black ass nigger, nigger, nigger?  The world will not stop spinning if you say that what dark-skinned women have it far worse than you do.  I promise. 

Every magazine cover, every television show, every movie, book cover, commercial, and music video, every single solitary facet of our society praises light skinned women as being the most beautiful Black women.  NEVER have you been subjected to the cruel and hateful comments that dark-skinned women have had to endure and whatever taunts or comments you might have gotten, they do not and cannot compare to what dark-skinned women have been subjected to.  Acknowledge that so that we might take a tiny little step off the plantation and move toward healing. 

Now, run tell that!