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Warning: This web page contains adult oriented content,
themes and language, otherwise known as erotica. If this type of
content offends you, please leave this page now.
The Sensual Invitation
Click HERE to View
Confessions of a Sex Therapist
By
Nyah Storm
READ
WITH CAUTION! – ADULT CONTENT
Infatuated
with raw and kinky sex, Zola was Nikki’s oldest client, and
heavily into voyeurism. Since 2000, Zola’s sessions
consisted of her infatuation with sex and the game of making
her lovers prove their sexual attraction and love for her.
Control was the name of the game, and she was scheduled for
therapy, once again, with Nikki.
Walking with an air of regality, Zola entered Nikki’s
massive-sized office, moving with confidence and
self-assurance. Her form fitting black pantsuit, perfectly
hugged her hourglass figure. With a honey brown complexion
warmly glowing, as if she took a bath inside of the sun, her
hair tumbled carelessly down her back, as a few lazy
tendrils softened her face. Butterfly lashes enhanced her
gray eyes, reminiscent of glacial ice. Taken by her air of
confidence, Nikki’s stare followed Zola as she took a seat
on the cozy black leather chair facing her therapist.
Zola
began the session by describing her newest sexual encounter,
which was her sexual fetish for voyeurism. What’s
interesting about her case is that she liked her lovers to
have sex with each other; she enjoyed watching their facial
expressions, relishing in their sounds of sinful screams.
When Zola was engaged in some sort of sexual activity, she
enjoyed the sex better knowing that there was someone
watching her every move and listening to her every moan. Her
driving force was being mercilessly fucked by her lover with
an onlooker. She said it was more enjoyable with an
audience; she could get her partner to do almost anything
she wanted.
“I was
giving my man head, while my best friend, Lexi, watched.”
Nikki’s eyebrows rose inquiringly. “Do you think it was a
good idea, having your best friend watch?”
“Sure,
I trust Lexi. Besides, she enjoyed it more than anyone,”
Zola chuckled. “Would you like a play by play, Dr. Thompson,
or would you prefer the short version?”
The
smile in Nikki’s eyes contained a sensuous flame that Zola
could see a mile a way.
Crossing her legs and resting her forearm on her knee, the
beginning of a smile tipped the corners of Zola’s mouth.
“Play by play is what I figured.”
With a
slow, secret smile, Nikki prepared herself for The Life of
Zola.
Clearing her throat, Zola looked around the room, taking
note of the many artifacts and sculptures she’d seen several
times over, before she spoke. “Well,” she sighed. “Like I
said, I gave my man head while Lexi watched. It was Lexi’s
first time doing anything like that, and with me. As I
devoured my man’s dick, I could feel Lexi’s eyes burning a
hole through me, adding to an already burning flame. Dr.
Thompson, did you know you could have an orgasm just by
sucking a dick?”
Nikki
cracked a smile and remained quiet, her pen jotting notes
across the Steno pad.
“I
didn’t either until I experienced it. Anyway, I pushed up on
my knees so I could give him leverage. I wanted him to drill
his entire ten-inch pole down my throat. I wasn’t worried
about vomiting because I knew what I was doing. I
concentrated on making sure he felt the soft wetness of my
full lips and not the scraping of my teeth.
“Then,
out of no where, Lexi got up and ran her fingers through my
hair, pushing and pulling my head up and down forcing my
throat to expand, controlling just how deep his dick would
penetrate past my jaws and down into the base of my throat.
She had total control over me, as though it really wasn’t
her first time. Suddenly, she leaned in close to him, about
an inch away from his parting lips as he repeatedly moaned
my name. Damn that shit turned me on, I could feel my
muscles contracting, needing something to grip around.
Tracing the lining of his lips with her warm wet tongue, she
squeezed my hair tighter, inflicting the most enjoyable
pain.
“Sounds of Lexi tasting my man’s tongue made my pussy leak
with excitement. Moans of ecstasy wafted throughout the
room. Lexi’s nipples enjoyed the simple enticement of a warm
safe haven away from their raw soreness, and his mouth was
the perfect getaway tending to her throbbing pink nipples.”
Zola paused, taking a deep breath, before describing the
ever-changing whispers of pants and long sighs of
anticipated penetration. “The more my boyfriend played with
Lexi’s nipples the more Lexi’s fingers entangled in my hair.
I just knew I was going to get a headache, but I didn’t.
“Before long, I was straddling his face, while my baby
sucked my pussy and Lexi rode his dick. Watching her and
hearing deep-throated moans escaping past her lips, as she
called out his name, added to my multiple orgasms, making me
reach out for her.” Zola shyly turned her head. “I kissed
her and it was the most passionate kiss I’d ever had. Our
tongues danced, she fondled me, and I fondled her. It was
the best.”
For
the entire session, Nikki concentrated on Zola’s graphic
details as she described the feelings she encountered while
watching her boyfriend slide in and out of her best friend.
“It
was intoxicating to feel the pleasure he was giving both of
them. Oh, and the sweet smell of pussy in the air…I wanted
to taste her, but I’m not ready for that yet,” summed up
Zola’s attraction to watching sexual encounters between
loved ones.
Nikki
slowly and teasingly became moist as Zola described the
different moans her boyfriend made while inside another
woman. Flashes of erotic scenes filled Nikki’s
consciousness, enticing a tickling sensation on the tip of
her clit.
Smiling in contentment, Zola wouldn’t stop toying with
Nikki, making seductive gestures like licking her glossy,
mocha-colored lips and jutting out her perky breasts, as her
chest heaved from self-gratification from hearing her own
story. Seeing the lustful expressions creeping across
Nikki’s face, gave Zola a touch of pleasurable joy. Sensing
body heat exuding from Nikki sent several sensual
tantalizing messages to Nikki’s body as Zola stared deep
into her eyes.
After
the session with Zola, Nikki closed her office for an early
lunch. She needed a break and, besides, she was too horny to
focus on anyone else’s problems. Locking her office door to
the outside world, gave her the quiet relaxation her mind
and body desperately craved. Reclining in her chair, she
scanned the notes from Zola’s latest session. Nikki was
instantly aroused as her brain gave visual life to the words
on the paper. Suddenly, she remembered the silver bullet she
kept in the bottom left hand drawer for sensual emergencies
like this one.
Opening her thighs, she raised her skirt and pulled her
panties to the side, nestling the cold, silver vibrator
snuggly between the lips of her fat pussy. As she reviewed
Zola’s case file, with her bullet set on high, Nikki
squeezed her thighs together and slightly tilted her hips
up, positioning the stimulator on her clit. Chills shot
through her, as she slowly worked her hips in a circular
motion, fucking the now heated steel, her legs trembled and
eyes rolled upward as her release was intensified and
fulfilling. Smiling and mentally thanking Zola,
this was the perfect way to relax
before lunch, she thought as her eyes scanned the
last line in Zola’s case notes.
For more information about Nyah Storm visit:
www.xpressyourselfpublishing.org
www.xpressyourselfpublishing.org/nyahstorm.htm
Xpress Yourself Publishing; ISBN: 0-97925002-1
The Fountain of Ecstasy
Trinity
had been hesitant to sleep with Peter John for the first time.
It wasn’t because she was ashamed of her full, voluptuous body
like society would want her to be or because she was trying to
play some sort of “I don’t want you to think I’m a whore”
waiting game with him. Nope, Trinity was very attracted to
Peter John but she also knew that her pussy has a tendency to
mesmerize and captivate men, make them lose their minds. It was
a special gift she had, one she couldn’t even control, but it
made men lose their minds and she really liked Peter John, she
didn’t want to add him to the collection of men went crazy for
her special “talent.”
Her
hormones got the best of her, however, after a great date with
her new boyfriend. Things had been progressing rather nicely
between them and Peter John was ready to take things to the next
level. He pulled out all the stops one evening, dinner,
dancing, and even surprising her with her favorite book, one
she’s mentioned in passing and didn’t think he’d remembered.
Peter John remembered everything she said. He was into this
woman in a big way. She was sexy personified; every head would
turn when she walked in the room. Confidence oozed from her
very pores.
After
dinner, Peter John drove out to the lake and parked his truck.
It was a hot summer night and there were a few other couples out
to enjoy the cool breeze and the full moon. The couple strolled
hand in hand along the pier and then back to sit on a bench and
watch the people go by. Peter John pulled her close in his
arms, her back towards him, and couldn’t resist filling his
hands with her full breasts. Feeling a bit tipsy from the wine
and completely intoxicated by his sweet demeanor, Trinity gave
in and a moan escaped from her lips. Before long, the couple
was groping each other, kissing, and ready for some hot and
heavy action. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, pulling his
keys from his pocket and grabbing her hand to rush her back to
his house.
There’s
something about a steamy summer night that makes people take
chances. As he opened her door to help her in, Peter John
couldn’t resist the temptation. How could he? Trinity’s legs,
smooth and brown, were too tempting as she slid in the truck.
“Wait, he said, as he slid her around in the seat to face him
and got down on his knees in front of her. “I have to taste you
NOW. I can’t wait any more.”
Getting
down on his knees, PJ began kissing his way up Trinity’s legs,
spreading them further. She sounded convincing in telling him
to stop, for the full half a second she tried, before she gave
into the splendid sensation of her new lover’s soft lips kissing
the tender warm flesh between her legs. She leaned back and he
pulled her forward more, her full ass on the edge of the seat.
Maneuvering her panties down her legs, he tossed them in the
back seat and the light of the moon illuminated one of the most
beautiful pussies he’d every seen. He wasted no time in diving
in; eating her like she was dessert. It’s a good thing he had a
sweet tooth because her juices tasted like honey. He was
lapping her pussy, licking, sucking, and feasting on her sexy
ass. His tongue was in overdrive, licking from her clit to her
asshole and back again.
Trinity
was out of her mind. The idea of some strange passerby casually
strolling up on them and seeing them in the middle of a very
public display was turning her on. She grabbed PJ’s head and
held it to her pussy. She was chanting, moaning, purring like a
kitten, it would have been very obvious to anyone who was
interested that some hot and heavy exploration was going on in
that vehicle but that couldn’t have been what Ford meant when
they were naming their truck.
Peter John
was so turned on; he reached in his pants and freed his raging
dick. He was doing his best to stroke it but he couldn’t keep
his hand off the glorious ass Trinity was grinding on his face.
But within a matter of seconds, Trinity was pushing him away.
One minute, she was telling him she was going to cum, the next
minute, she was saying stop. Confused and sure she had only
been seconds from cumming, he backed away and stood up, his dick
leaking precum, hard and swollen. Trinity was rubbing her wet
pussy and staring at him like he was tender young gazelle and
she was a fierce lioness waiting to attack. He stroked his dick
watching her, her legs spread, aroused, a look of lust on her
face.
He was all
too tempting, standing there, wanting her. “Fuck me, she said,
and she beckoned him to put his throbbing dick where his tongue
had been moments earlier. For a second, for the first few
seconds in fact, Peter John thought that he has put his dick in
a magical pussy. She was tight and hot and wet, but there was
some sort of ridge in her pussy that was hitting the head of his
dick and it was sending sensations through his body like he’d
never felt before. That same spot was doing magical things to
Trinity as well because every time he hit it, she would scream
and moan and beg him to fuck her harder. “Yeah, you like that
pussy, don’t you? Yeah, oh shit, damn that dick is making me
feel good. Yeah, work it in there hard and slow, just like I
like it.”
Her legs
on his shoulders, Peter John was putting it down. They were
both in a zone and loving every second of their passionate love
making. Then, all of a sudden, he felt her tense up, he saw her
shut her eyes, and he heard her say, “Oh noooo, I’m cumming.”
Then,
without warning, it was like someone opened the gates of a dam.
With his dick buried deep inside her, and her muscles milking
him, he felt her body tremble and her legs tense up and he felt
wave after wave of cum shooting out of her pussy. Stunned, he
stepped back, only to see Trinity’s pussy shooting cum out like
a super soaker. His pants were drenched and the seat of his car
was soaked.
Breathing
heavily, Trinity tried her best to sit up and apologize. “I’m
sorry . . . I uhmmm . . . you see, when I cum I just can’t help
it. I tried to warn you when you were eating my pussy. I
didn’t want you to drown or choke, but I got distracted when I
saw you standing there with your dick so hard.”
“You mean
like this?” He looked down at his erection and he was pounding
it, stroking it furiously.
“Oh shit,
yeah, just like that,” she said, and slid off the seat, pulled
her skirt up to reveal her magnificent ass and looked back over
her shoulder and said, “I can’t take it, I need your to fuck me
again.”
This time,
Peter John thought he was prepared but he couldn’t have been
more wrong. From behind, that ridge was hitting spots on his
dick that made him see stars. He was long stroking, working
her, feeling that soft flesh in his hands as Trinity was
grinding her pussy on him. “Damn, I love that dick. Are you
gonna make me cum again. You gonna make this pussy squirt one
more time?”
Peter John
grabbed her hips, filling his hands with her and fucking her
like a man possessed. This time, her orgasm was met with his,
shooting, filling her, adding to the mess that would have to be
explained away to the car detailer with some flimsy, lame
excuse.
Copyright
2007 AfroerotiK
New Author Takes Erotica Genre By Storm!
By Michael J. Burt
Nyah Storm is the newest
member of the Xpress Yourself Publishing family and on March
15, 2007, she will release her hot and steamy debut novel "Confessions
of a Sex Therapist" which will be followed by her
sophomore release "Lustful Inhibitions," to be
released on June 15, 2007.
A
native of Washington, DC, Nyah
Storm began writing poetry when she was 8 years
old and that has helped hone her writing skills. Her erotic
novels have a psychological twist; this is possible because
she has her B.S. in Psychology. When she isn't intrigued by
a book, she is listening to music.
According to Black Men in America.com Nyah Storm is "...the
fresh new, stimulating voice of Erotica!"
I had
the pleasure to ask Nyah Storm a few questions about her
life and love for storytelling. Let me introduce you to Ms.
Nyah Storm...
MJB:
Many writers have alter egos that they use when they write.
Do you have an alter ego? Who is Nyah Storm, the author? The
person? Are they the same?
NS: Yes, I do have an alter ego. My alter ego is Nyah
Storm. Nyah is a creative author that wants to push her
reader's minds. Nyah the person is always interested in
coming up and creating new and fresh ideas. No my alter ego
and I are not the same. Nyah explores different and wild
avenues to push people.
MJB: Describe your journey to becoming an author?
Were you ever rejected in the past by publishers or agents?
If so, was it an extensive amount of times? How did you keep
pressing on?
NS: I have been writing ever since I was 8 years old.
I started out writing songs and essays for my school. By the
time I was 11 years old I had started writing poetry. I
continued to write poetry as I pushed myself to try and
write short stories. I always kept my writings to myself
with the exception of friends and family. I never shared my
writings with any publishers or agents. It was only when I
sent my manuscript to Xpress Yourself Publishing that I had
let a publisher finally look at my work.
MJB: Most books now have raw and provocative
characters. Who inspires these
characters? Do they have characteristics that you have?
NS: My characters are inspired by a combination of
people that I know or have met in my life. I tend to add
unique styles to my characters as I mix them with different
personalities. My characters have the characteristics of so
many different people.
MJB: Who are some of your favorite writers?
NS: Some of my favorite authors include Janet Finch,
Ann Rice, Laurell K. Hamilton, Jim Morrison, Nikki Giovanni,
Naija, Zane, Noire, Eric Jerome Dickey, Karen E. Quinones
Miller, Sister Souljah, and Edgar Allan Poe. Those are just
a few of the authors that rest on my bookshelf. So many
authors have touched me.
MJB: What are some of your favorite books?
NS: Ann Rice's "The Vampire Armand." Janet Finch's
"White Oleander," Zane "Nervous," Noire " G-Spot," Sister
Souljah "The Coldest Winter Ever," Jessica Tilles "Fatal
Desire," Eric Jerome Dickey "Genevieve," and Angela Elwell
Hunt
"Dreamers." Those are just a few of my favorite books.
MJB: What inspires you to write?
NS: Writing has always been apart of me. What
inspires me to write is life and the situations that life
brings us. For me, writing is my calmness, when I write I
can just zone out to another world. I am completely
submerged in the world that surrounds the characters.
Writing is my release from the outside world.
MJB: Explain life for Nyah Storm.
NS: I was born in the D.C. Metropolitan area. I am
the only child of my mother. Before I became an author, I
was a Social Worker doing Case Management.
MJB: What's next in your writing career?
NS: I would like to continue writing books that
people will enjoy.
Pre-order Nyah Storms new
books "Confessions
of a Sex Therapist"
and "Lustful Inhibitions"
now at
www.xpressyourselfpublishing.org!
Visit Nyah Storm at
www.myspace.com/nyahstorm
_______________
MICHAEL J. BURT is a
native of Washington, DC, and the author of
Experience Is Impossible Without
a Chance and Love Changes. Burt has
opened for poet Nikki Giovanni and Def Poet J. Ivy. He is a
contributor to multiple thought-provoking African
American-experience books including Not In My Family:
AIDS in the African American Community, featuring
writings by Patti LaBelle, Mo’Nique, Hill Harper, Al
Sharpton, and many more, as well as a featured poet in
ESSENCE Magazine. Visit Michael J. Burt online at
www.mjburtpoetry.com
or
www.myspace.com/poetmjb
No Candles by Mr.
Talley
Click On Photo To
Enlarge
Book
Review by Janice Wilson, Staff Reviewer
No
Candles…but plenty of fire. This is how I would describe
this book. It was a great book to read, enjoyable and full
of passion.
3 months….5
days….7 hours….9 minutes….1…2…3
seconds
Beautiful imagery!! I loved the suspense created by the slow
walk Mr. Talley took the reader through in this no holds
barred book of pure romance. The mere thought of waiting and
the anticipation was killing me softly. I loved it! I think
every man and woman who is in a serious relationship should
read this book. It will serve to “rekindle” the fire in the
relationship and serve as a reminder that we all need to
slow down our lives in this busy world we live in and enjoy
each other more. Mr. Talley could put “The Maintenance Man”
out of business!
The
build up of the affair with “Sunshine” was like 24 hours of
foreplay in real life. I loved the author’s writing style
although a bit hard to follow at times. The use of broken
words and short sentences took getting used to in the
beginning. I recovered quickly and realized what Mr. Talley
was saying and this added to the enjoyment of the book.
I also
loved how this author used sexual imagery and sensuous
language to describe his every move. In addition, the short
chapters made for more excitement because the reader did not
have long to wait to get to the next section. This made for
very interesting reading and what I considered a real “page
turner.” I couldn’t wait to read where Mr. Talley would go
from page to page. My absolute favorite section was “Office
Play.”
I like
the idea of the forbidden and taking it to the office was
ultra exciting. I loved it!
I
would recommend this book to everyone who wants a feel good
book that will spark the imagination and bring sexual energy
into your life and your relationship.
Mr.
Talley has it going on in a major way and I would like to
read more books written by him. He has a way with words and
makes the story come alive for the reader.
This
book is not for the weak. It is provocative and contains
“adult” language but for those who like adventure, this is
the book for you.
You can visit the
official Mr. Talley web site at:
www.mrtalley.com/nocandles.
AfroerotiK is Playful
Tricks are
NOT just for kids. Sometimes, when adults play,
it’s not about competition, it’s about pure, unadulterated
hedonism. Join me for the latest Podcast where we
explore the art of seduction. Gentlemen, take notes on how
your lady wants to be treated. Go the extra mile and spoil
her. You certainly won’t be disappointed you put in all the
effort. Ladies, don’t let too much time go by without
treating your man to an extra special evening as well. Why
not tell him that you want to re-enact this erotic Podcast
while you listen to it, role-playing the action in real life
as you listen to it together? If you don’t have a partner,
take this opportunity to indulge yourself in a little
self-pleasure. Whatever way you decide to participate,
enjoy yourself on this sensual audio erotik experience.
Click here to
listen:
http://www.afroerotik.com/Podcast/ToyzRUs.mp3.
It takes a while to download and your patience is
appreciated.
AfroerotiK is . . . Intense Heat
When ladies make love, they
create intense heat. The pleasures that only another woman
can give are the secret fantasies and the unspoken dreams of
many. But what happens when you give into that lust, that
burning desire to drink from the source of all life? What
happens when you cross racial boundaries and that lady love
is a different background, from a different race? Can lust
between ladies both black and white exist without all the
stereotypes and influences of a racist society? Take a
listen to the latest AfroerotiK Podcast to hear an erotic
story that explores interracial lesbian passion.
Click
HERE to listen or
visit:
Scottie Lowe
Filling The Void by Scottie Lowe
Who would
have thought that after a year of sitting at home alone, I would
be on a date? Not only a date, but a date with a great guy.
I’d been standing in the grocery store, minding my business,
when the gentleman in front of me turned around and said, “Can
you watch my daughter for two seconds, I just need to run and
get some Pampers, right there.” He pointed to the aisle
directly behind us and then his toddler. She was wearing the
cutest little t-shirt with Kente embroidery on it and the
brightest smile you’d ever want to see.
“Sure, go
ahead.” No sooner than her father walked away, the little girl
stood up in the cart and made a lunge for the candy, trying to
leap like she was the star acrobat in the
UniverSoul Circus. I grabbed
her just in time before she took a big spill on the floor.
“Slow down there little lady.” Rather than her being scared by
a stranger, she fit in my arms perfectly and started playing
with my earrings and talking to me quite fluently in little girl
baby talk.
By the
time her father came back, he was apologizing. “I’m so sorry.
Let me guess, she made a dive for the candy. I don’t let her
have sugar and her mother does so we go through a period of
withdrawal every time it’s my time for custody.” She was
smiling at me with this little innocent, angelic, brown face and
all I could do was come to her defense.
“Nooooo,
she . . . it wasn’t like that. She was just , , , “ I wasn’t
very good at lying and I just stopped in mid sentence. “What’s
your name, Princess?”
She told
me her name quite promptly. I didn’t understand what the heck
she said but at that point, she was focused on my necklace and
jabbering away about something I’m sure only another two year
old or a parent could understand. “Her name is Shakhari, and
she is indeed my little princess. I’ll take her back now,
thanks.” Shakhari was having none of that and she grabbed my
neck and laid her sweet little head on my shoulder. “I share
joint custody with her mother and when she lives with me, my
brother, and his two sons; she’s the only woman in the house.
She has a need for female bonding that defies logical thinking.
That estrogen is some powerful stuff, right?”
“It’s
okay, I’ll hold her, go ahead, it looks like you could use an
extra hand.” While Daddy was unpacking the cart, getting his
super savings card swiped, and paying, I was checking him out;
he was actually very cute. He had a full beard and a delicious
looking chocolate complexion and a shopping cart full of health
food. I whispered in Shakhari’s ear, “You know, your Daddy is
pretty handsome.”
That must
have been the magic phrase because almost immediately Shakhari
wanted to go back to Daddy and she reached out to him. He
scooped her up and kept loading his cart with the bags like he
was the featured juggler with UniverSoul. Right before they
were ready to leave, he said, “Say goodbye to the pretty lady,
Shakhari.” She blew me a big kiss and I could hear her saying
bye-bye over and over until they were well beyond the automatic
doors.
I paid for
my groceries and made my way to the parking lot. I was putting
my groceries in the back seat and still thinking about Dad and
that sexy smile when I heard someone say, “Excuse me.” I looked
up and it was Dad. “I didn’t get your name. I’m Vernon; I
wanted to thank you for taking care of my little lady. I was
wondering if . . . Do you think it would be okay if I gave you
my number and you could give me a call . . . that is if you
aren’t married or seeing someone or anything. Sorry, I’m not
very good at this. I haven’t dated in a long while so I’m a
little out of practice. I’m sorry.”
I extended
my hand, “I’m Deborah, nice to meet you. There’s no need to
apologize.” He handed me his business card with his home and
cell phone numbers written on the back. A week later I was on a
date with him, sitting at a table staring into the dreamiest
eyes possible and pinching myself that he was so amazing.
The
chemistry was just there, it wasn’t forced or anything, we just
seemed to connect. He told me that he’d moved to the area two
years ago, a little before Shakhari was born, and his pregnant
girlfriend at the time had no intention of moving away from her
family, and they had no plans to get married. “I got a chance
to really make a difference,” he explained, “so when my brother
told me they were opening an Office of Minority Affairs in the
county, and were looking for someone to head it up, and he could
get me an interview, I jumped at the chance. Janet is a massage
therapist on a cruise ship for 3 or 4 months at a time so it
works our perfectly that I can take Shakhari, my brother and his
two teenage sons are the perfect babysitters whenever I need
them. When she is with her Mom, I feel like my entire life is
on hold.” He explained to me that he’d largely gotten caught up
in his ex’s looks and while he could have made better choices in
a partner, and used a lot more precaution, i.e. protection, he
was making the best of the situation and being the best father
he knew how to be.
The more
we talked, the more attracted I was. Sure, we’d talked on the
phone, gotten to know each other a little bit before the date,
but there was something about being in his presence, smelling
his cologne, seeing those shoulders, just being in the company
of a man that was intoxicating. I told him my sad story, of how
I’d let myself love a man who didn’t love me and how it had
fucked with my self esteem so I’d been alone for a while, just
trying to work on myself. Isolated was a better term for it.
I’d sort of shut myself off from the rest of the world to figure
things out and make sense of it all. Usually, when you admit
flaws to a man, they run 100 yards in the opposite direction but
Vernon was hanging right in there with me, it didn’t seem to
disturb him in the least. I could tell from his actions and his
words that he was really interested in finding a woman of
substance, which is rare. Most men are looking for a woman of
beauty, who won’t question them or demand anything of them. He
explained that after Shakhari was born, he was intent on finding
a great role model for his daughter and a great partner with
whom he could build a life together. Boy was I glad the recipe
I was using called for shallots that night and I had to run to
the store.
After
dinner, we walked hand in hand by the bay, looking out over the
water and up at the stars. We sat on a bench for a while and
watched the other couples walk by, kissing and hugging, feeling
each other up as if no one could see what they were doing. I
got a little chilly and he gave me his jacket and put his arms
around my shoulders. It was getting late but I was in no rush
to end the date so I asked him if he wanted to come back to my
place for a drink.
I had no
plans on having sex with him; I just wanted to appreciate his
company a little more. Vernon was picking out music in the
living room while I was in the kitchen getting out the glasses
and opening the wine. All of a sudden it hit me that I had made
a huge mistake. Wine, music, alone in my apartment. Duh, that
meant SEX! Hot, buck naked, sweaty sex. My hands started
shaking and I couldn’t even hold the bottle opener steady. I
was trying to figure out a way to put a stop to the whole thing,
call it off, ask him to leave, when Vernon came in the kitchen
and said, “Deborah, is everything alright? Here, let me help
you with that.”
He
intentionally stood behind me, pressing his body against mine,
and wrapped his arms around me, placing his hands on top of
mine, and opened the bottle. My heart was racing out of my
chest. I could feel the fullness of my ass against him, his
chest against my back, his arms were strong but his hands were
gentle. I closed my eyes and laid my head back against his
chest for a moment and just stood there. He started massaging
my shoulders, and he said, “This is nice, thank you for inviting
me over.” I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear and
in that moment, I felt like a woman. I am a woman of course,
but when you spend so much time alone you don’t get a chance to
FEEL like a woman. I leaned back into him fully, subconsciously
rubbing my ass on him, and I could detect the slightest movement
in his pants.
That’s
when panic hit me. What the hell was I doing? I wiggled out
from between the counter and his body and decided that I was
going to gain full control of the situation. I was going to
fake a headache and call it a night but Vernon beat me to it.
“Whoa, look at the time,” he said! “My nephew has rugby
playoffs tomorrow and I have to get home to uhmmm . . . take
care of things, to get ready. I mean I need to get up early to
get the kids ready and . . . well, I better get going.” He was
trying to discretely reposition himself and scramble for his
jacket to put in front of him.
I walked
him to the door and we said our goodbyes. I guess neither one
of us knew what was the appropriate thing to do. The date was
awesome, there was chemistry out of this world, but we were both
out of practice in the romance department. We stood at my
doorway and saying what a great time we both had and how we
should do it again soon. I knew good and damn well that I
wanted a kiss. I could tell he wanted a kiss too. He stood
there stalling for another minute until finally I just put my
arms around his neck, leaned in close and closed my eyes.
The next
thing I felt were his lips pressed softly against mine, his
tongue softly exploring my mouth. He pulled my body tightly to
his and I cupped his face in my hands. His hands explored my
back and the further down they went, the more I moaned into his
mouth. We went from 0 to 60 in five seconds flat. One kiss
turned into deep soul kissing and there was no turning back. He
sucked my tongue gently in his mouth and I got dizzy. His mouth
tasted slightly sweet, like he’d eaten a mint in anticipation of
kissing me while I wasn’t looking. Our lips parted and he
started kissing my neck. His technique was out of this world,
gently sucking my hot spot and nibbling on my flesh while his
hands were pulling me closer, rubbing me all over. There was no
way I was going to let him leave so I grabbed his hand and
pulled him towards the living room. We both fell on the sofa
and started making out like two teenagers in high school.
There is
something transcendent about being in the arms of a Black man.
Anyone who has every had the pleasure can testify to that.
Being in the arms of a beautiful Black man, after months of
being alone, is like finding an oasis in the desert after
crawling on the hot sands. When I’m in that moment, feeling his
muscles, the power of his grasp, if feels like it’s the reason I
was created, it’s like climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro and reaching the
Apex. Pressing his full body weight into mine, he took my
breath away. I tried to pull him closer, to become one with
him, to somehow feel his breath inside of me. He put his leg
between mine and I started humping on him. My skirt was
sliding up and I kept trying to subconsciously pull it back
down. My mind was so used to putting me off when they made
advances; it was hard to turn off that record that allowed me to
be fully sensual and expressive with a man.
Truth is,
I was scared. I was scared of letting down my guard. I was
unsure of how to be sexual with a man anymore. I wasn’t sure
what healthy boundaries were. I was playing all sorts of old
tapes in my head about being a slut for sleeping with a man on
the first date. I’m 30 years old and I was feeling like a
teenager on the couch with my mom upstairs, ready to scold me
for being fast.
Vernon
must have been having the same apprehensions, well, at least
comparable ones. He sat up and moved to the far end of the
sofa. I was still lying there, with my legs spread, breathing
heavy, and a look of tortured lust on my face. I could clearly
see the outline of his dick tenting his pants and he made no
efforts to hide it.
“Is
everything okay,” I asked, sitting up and trying to gain some
composure.
“Sure, I’m
cool. It’s just that I’m not really sure that we should be
doing this. I can’t lie; I want to be with you. You CAN’T
imagine how much I want to be with you right now. It’s just
that I don’t want my judgment clouded because it’s been so long
since I . . . you know. I’m into you for a lot of reasons but I
don’t want to just get caught up in the moment because I’m
trying to fill the void, feel me? I’m not sure if I’m thinking
with the right head.”
I think we
both needed that minute to catch our breath and regroup. To be
honest, the fact that he wanted to slow things down made me want
him that much more. Not completely because you always want what
you think you can’t have, but I’m sure that had a little to do
with it, but mostly because he was actually thinking about the
consequences of us getting too carried away. That was a first.
Every other man I’d been with, once we’d gotten to the dry
humping, spit swapping, simulating sex stage, there was nothing
short of a natural disaster that could get them to think about
anything other than fucking.
He pulled
my skirt hem down to my knees, rather reluctantly I could tell,
and then he pulled me onto his lap. We talked for a few minutes
but neither of us made a move to end the evening. I tried to
move to sit next to him, expressing that I was fearful that I
was hurting him, and he sucked his teeth and gave me a look
like, “Gurl, pleeease, don’t even think that you could hurt
me.” I TOTALLY felt like a woman in the moment.
It was
only then that all the work I’d done on myself, redefining and
healing, kicked in. I was a vibrant, vital, woman with a lot to
offer and sexual needs, the need for human contact. I was
deserving of pleasure and sensual release. Yes, I wanted a
relationship but more than that I wanted a man to appreciate me
for more than being just a piece of ass. I was reasonably
confident that Vernon didn’t just want a one-night stand. But
the real kicker was in coming to terms with the fact that, even
if he did, even if having a sex on the first date wasn’t what
I’d been conditioned to think a virtuous woman did, I was
empowered and responsible for my happiness. I could choose to
see the situation as one of opportunity and take ownership of my
emotions afterwards, whatever the outcome.
I
straddled Vernon’s lap and faced him. I slowly undid the
buttons on my blouse, verrrry slowly. He didn’t say a word; he
just sat there and watched me. I pulled my blouse off and
dropped it to the floor. I took his hands and placed them on my
breasts and he started massaging them. I undid the snaps of my
bra and let it find a home on the floor on top of my shirt.
Instinctively, his mouth found my nipples and started sucking
them. I held them up for him, feeding him, throwing my head
back and enjoying the sensation of his tongue, moving from one
titty to the other, licking my hardened nipples, sucking them,
biting them gently, driving me absolutely fucking crazy.
I started
grinding on him, undoing the buttons on his shirt. He said,
“Wait, shouldn’t we . . .” I didn’t let him finish his
sentence. I kissed him again, this time even more passionately
than before, if that was at all possible, and silenced him.
“Vernon,
do you want to . . .” I didn’t know what words to use, so I just
said what I was really feeling in that moment. “Vernon, do you
want to fuck me?”
Without
missing a beat, he said, “Deborah, I want to fuck you so bad I
can’t see straight.” He buried his face between the soft flesh
of my breasts and pushed both nipples together and sucked them
at the same time.
I grabbed
him by the hand and pulled him toward my bedroom so we could
stretch out and be more comfortable. He kept asking me if I was
sure about this. I turned on my mackadocious music, the music I
played when I wanted to get in the mood to fuck myself, and I
started dancing for him, taking off the rest of my clothes. I
slid out of my skirt and he just sat on the edge of the bed,
looking uncomfortable. Leaving my red lace panties on, I knelt
between his legs and undid his belt buckle. He was looking down
at me like he was having an out of body experience. I undid the
button and lowered the zipper on his pants. I reached in his
boxers and felt the heat of his dick. I pulled it from the
opening and looked up at him, licked my lips, and licked the
head. I saw his eyes roll back in his head and I knew that was
my go ahead. I swirled my tongue around the head and started
licking his shaft. I slip my lips sensually up and down the
length and took his entire dick in my mouth deeply. He was
bucking his hips and I was matching his thrusts. He grabbed me
by my shoulders and pushed me away. “Stop,” he said breathing
heavily, “I need you to slow down.”
I stood up
and turned around. I slid my panties down over my full hips and
stepped out of them. By the time I had turned back around,
Vernon was naked and laying on the bed looking like a chocolate
vision of beauty. “My turn,” he said, “and he stuck out his
tongue. “I want to taste you.” I climbed on the bed and tried
to lie next to him. He wasn’t having that and he told me that
he wanted me to ride his face. For a woman who was out of
practice at having sex, I wasn’t sure I was comfortable being
that assertive. I stopped myself before I got too caught up in
old tapes in my head and accepted his invitation.
I grabbed
the headboard and threw my leg across his shoulder. He stuck
his tongue out and said, “Come on, baby, let me lick that sweet
pussy.” I lowered myself slowly, letting the lips of my pussy
gently caress his lips. He started kissing my pussy, frenching
them like he’d done to me earlier. I was biting my lip, trying
to stifle my moans of appreciation but there was no use. I felt
fucking fantastic. I started rubbing my pussy on his soft lips,
sliding back and forth, feeling his tongue in my hole and his
lips sucking at my clit. The sensations were out of the world.
Before long, I was bouncing a little harder on his mouth, riding
his tongue. Grabbing my ass, he pulled me forward and started
licking me from my clit to my asshole. I’ll be a black son of a
bitch if I could hold back my sounds of appreciation at that
point. I was moaning and talking dirty, telling him how much I
loved it.
“Ohhhh,
yessss, sexy motherfucker. Let me ride that tongue, shove it in
me. Oh shit, that feels so good.” He grabbed thighs and pulled
me tighter. Poor little thing, I could have suffocated him I
was bouncing up and down on his face so hard. I could feel the
tremors, they were building and there was no turning back.
I rolled
over on the bed, exhausted, but energized at the same time.
Vernon rolled over on me and kissed me and I could taste my
juices on his tongue. “Do you need some time to recuperate,” he
whispered?
I reached
between his legs and felt for his dick and rubbed it on the slit
of my pussy. “Fuck me, NOW,” was all I needed to say.
“Oh shit,”
he said, “Hold on there sweetness.” He reached for his pants on
the side of the bed and pulled out some condoms, opened the
package with his teeth, and slid it on his dick. I was so happy
he’d taken the initiative to be responsible because I would have
kicked myself a thousand times in the morning for not insisting
that we use protection.
Locked and
fully loaded, he placed my legs on his shoulders. He looked
down at me and rubbed the head of his dick on my slit. I was
sweating, trying to get him to penetrate me. I was still
soaking wet from cumming before but I hadn’t felt a real dick in
me in so long, I couldn’t wait any longer. Vernon made me
wait. He teased me, excruciatingly painful teasing. He pushed
the head in and I gripped the sheets. I was tighter than usual
I guess, from not having sex in so long, so he had to work hard
to get it all in. We were both sweating and grunting and he was
going deeper and deeper. Finally, I could feel his balls on my
ass and the head of his dick was deep inside me.
Gripping
my thighs, he started fucking me. When I say he was fucking me,
he would withdraw all the way to the head and then push every
millimeter inside me, rhythmically, methodically, and
sensually. I was twisting and turning, playing with his
nipples, playing with my own, rubbing my clit, just adding to
the sensations. I grabbed his ass and started trying to get him
to fuck me harder. We were grunting and groaning, he was
fucking me senseless. He let my legs go and I wrapped them
around his back. He fell on top of me and we began kissing
passionately. Our sweaty bodies were slipping and sliding
together.
“Oh shit,
I’m going to cum.”
He fell on
the bed, staring at the ceiling, not saying a word. I pulled
the covers over us and drifted off to sleep snuggled up next to
him. I awoke to the sounds of him getting dressed, glanced at
the clock, and it said 5:30.
“Listen,
Shakhari has never woken up with me not there so I need to run,”
he whispered. “I left the address of where my nephew is going
to be playing. Meet us there when you get a chance. I can’t
wait to see you later.” He kissed my forehead. Go back to
sleep and get some rest and we can pick up where we left off
tonight.”
I was
relieved. While I was prepared for the big blow off, I was
pleased that it looked like things were going to move ahead.
Where things were going to go was entirely up to us but I was
pretty assured that he hadn’t just taken advantage of me and I
was confident that I had truly made the empowered choice that
signaled a sensual rite of passage for me as a woman.
(And just
so you know, he nephew’s team won the regional title).
Copyright
2006 AfroerotiK
So what do you think?
If you would like to respond to this article
click here and sign our
Guestbook to leave a public or private statement,
comment or reaction.
REDEFINING BLACK MANHOOD by Scottie Lowe
AfroerotiK
is a show that examines black sexuality and that
provides insight and alternatives to individuals seeking
healthy erotic expression. It highlights the beauty and
sensuality of African Americans without being vulgar and
stereotypical and it provides a fresh perspective from
which to examine the issues that shape the perceptions
of Black sexuality. It’s a show for everyone that will
challenge myths, destroy clichés, and set the foundation
for intense erotic exploration. AfroerotiK is features
debates, discussions, interviews, and steamy erotic
readings to stimulate and arouse.
This month, we are
exploring
REDEFINING BLACK MANHOOD.
It’s a hard-hitting, no holds barred discussion that
sheds light on a much-maligned topic. It’s essential
listening for women who feel like they can’t find a good
man and men who are tired of being narrowly defined.
It’s for anyone open to conversation about shifting the
behaviors that are keeping black relationships in
danger.
Take a listen and
experience for yourself.
It takes several
minutes to download and your patience is appreciated.
Communication, Romance and
Intimacy
By
Scottie Lowe
If
communication is the recipe for a healthy relationship,
romance and intimacy are the key ingredients. For most
men, the concept of genuine, truthful communication in a
relationship is an alien concept, let alone understanding
the concepts of romance and intimacy. For most men,
the idea of romance is equated to “game” or trying to get a
woman into bed and the concept of genuine honesty is
incomprehensible to many. Men have been convinced that
crying, a natural, healthy, biological release of emotion
makes a man weak. Reality check. If men weren’t
supposed to cry, they would not have tear ducts.
Crying is as natural as sneezing, it is necessary to help an
individual process emotion, yet we have an entire population
of men that think that shedding a tear means an individual
less than a man. Black men in particular have been
socialized for generations to deny their feelings and never
taught to process or share those feelings with another
person. To have feelings is to be considered weak or
gay. When we look at all the false perceptions that
are in place to keep men from being fully functioning,
emotionally mature human beings it’s no wonder that the
state of Black relationships is in such peril.
Being
someone that has dedicated her life to showing Black
sexuality in a healthy light, men often come to me to share
their desires, secrets and fantasies when they have wives,
girlfriends, and lovers that should be that confidant.
Day in and day out, brothas come to me and share with me, a
total stranger, their most intimate desires. They
always seem to preface it by saying, “My wife would never
understand . . .” News flash, your wife should be the
first person you go to share your feelings and if she’s not,
you need to re-examine your relationship and take the steps
necessary to make that so. Your wife is your partner
and your mate, if you don’t have a relationship where you
can be open and honest with her, there’s something
drastically wrong with that. Let’s assume that you
married a woman with whom you share common ideologies,
goals, and beliefs. If all of those things are in
place, then you have the makings of fantastic communication
and all that needs to be done is learning how to open up and
share with your partner your thoughts.
The
number one fantasy that Black men come to me and share as
their secret desire is to be submissive to a (in most cases,
Black) woman. We must be cautious how we use the term
submissive in this particular case because mainstream
society would lead us to believe that being submissive means
being beaten and whipped and assuming an inferior position
in some sadomasochistic exchange. While in some cases,
that may be the desire, more often than not they mean that
they want to put aside their satisfaction for that of their
partner. Unfortunately, the term submissive is the
closest term Black men have to describe their fantasies of
catering to a woman’s needs. I hear it time and time
again, “I want to satisfy my woman . . . her pleasure is
more important than mine . . . I want to do whatever it
takes to make her cum until she passes out.” Society
would have us believe that a Black man is supposed to “kill
it” to use his dick as a weapon and that pleasing a woman is
of no concern. Imagine Jay-Z making a rap where he
says that he gave a woman pleasure without concern for his
own. That’s not going to happen in this lifetime
because Black men have to live up to the stereotype that
women are for their pleasure, not the other way around.
Again, the absurdity of the concept and the extent to which
we as a people hold on to it is causing us to perish.
When
Black men approach me about their fantasies, they tend to be
somewhat forthcoming with the details. Conversely,
when I approach Black men about their fantasies their
responses tend to be either, “I don’t have any fantasies,”
or, “I have done everything that I want to do, I prefer the
real thing.” When they do admit to a fantasy it’s the
standard “threesome” scenario. Black men aren’t adept
at expressing their fantasies or allowing themselves to
creatively explore their sexuality. It’s only after
intense and directed questioning that they can admit to
having other fantasies. Conversely, white men tend to
be able to describe in great detail their fantasies and have
very involved and complex scenarios. Fantasies are a
natural, normal part of our existence and allow us to
experience different realities in a safe way. Going
out and engaging in unhealthy behaviors rather than learning
to express healthy fantasies is dysfunctional. Not being
comfortable enough to share one’s fantasies with one’s
partner and then going out to explore those fantasies as a
reality with someone outside one’s relationship is
unhealthy. We must, as a people, reexamine the
guidelines that are keeping us dysfunctional.
There
seems to be a tremendous difficulty in men understanding
that women crave romance and intimacy, a reluctance to
embrace any personal responsibility in creating romance and
intimacy in their relationship and even a difficulty
understanding those terms. There is a belief that men
seem to have that is reinforced by a society that says that
women have to do the work to keep a man, not the other way
around. Men, understand this if you understand
nothing else I say. If you want peace in your
relationship, if you want your woman to treat you like a
king, then the single-most easiest way to do that is to
treat her like a queen. For every one-step you make to
make a woman feel special, she will take ten in return to
make you feel special. Surprise her with a small token
that lets her know you are thinking of her, that she crosses
your mind during the day. It needn’t be something
extravagant or expensive. There are more things than
just flowers, candy, or a designer purse that you can give
that will show her that you care. Sadly, men don’t
seem to understand the erotic potential and possibilities of
anything other than material gifts as indications of romance
have been conditioned to, thus they are limited in their
creativity and expression.
I would be remiss if I didn’t discuss
Black women’s responsibility in fostering healthy
communication and intimacy in relationships. Sadly,
there are a great many women that will judge and condemn a
man for sharing his thoughts and fantasies with her, no
matter the level of honesty or intimacy he is showing.
We’ve been conditioned to either view any expression of
sexuality outside of missionary sex as vulgar, or
conversely, we view sexuality as a tool of manipulation,
source of income, or as recreation. As Black women,
we’ve also been socialized to narrowly define manhood and
equate it with sexual prowess and earning potential, not
realizing that emotional depth and intimacy are things that
men are capable of giving. We must be held accountable
for our false perceptions and debilitating belief systems
but the change must be partnered with Black men in an effort
to grow together.
Getting a woman to be receptive to
your fantasies is not as difficult as one might think.
Increasing communication, romance and intimacy in your
relationship is not an impossible task. The most
effective way to introduce your fantasies to your partner is
to get her to a heightened state of arousal and subtly
introduce the new concept to her. She will be more
receptive to any new ideas that are initiated during that
time. Getting her to a heightened state of arousal
takes work on your part. It means that you must be
willing to ask questions about what arouses her, to set
aside everything that you’ve learned about what turns a
woman on, and set aside your preferences for the things that
turn you on. The benefits will be amazing and you will
lay the foundation for a partnership with outstanding
potential.
Scottie Lowe
is a regular columnist at Erotic
Expressions.net and the founder of
AfroerotiK. If you need some
suggestions on what you can do to create more intimacy,
romance and communication in your relationship, check out
AfroerotiK for dozens of ideas or
email
Scottie directly with your
questions.
So
what do you think? If you would like to respond to
this article
click here and sign our
Guestbook to leave a public or private statement,
comment or reaction.
Click On Photo To Enlarge
Strange Bedfellows
Shakespeare said, “Misery acquaints a man with strange
bedfellows.” It seems that lust, much more so than
misery, makes for some the most interesting boudoir
companions. Such was the case for Pamela, Michael, and
Imani. From all outward appearances, the trio of
friends looked like a cross section of Black America.
Pam was typically conservative in her demeanor and
appearance. You know the kind; you would never suspect she
was a seething hotbed of sexuality until you got her behind
closed doors. Michael was quickly climbing the
corporate ladder. He had all the makings of a playboy;
he was fine, smart, charming, and focused on getting the
most enjoyment out of life he possibly could. Imani
was the Bohemian granola girl type. At any given
moment she could go off on a tirade about Pan Africanism,
holistic living, or the perils of misogynist videos on the
developing psyche of Black children. As unique and
diverse as they were individually, they functioned all
together differently as a unit.
Collectively, Pam, Michael, and Imani were lovers. Not
in the typical modern day scenario where the guy fulfills
his varying tastes for women in different beds and the women
pretend not to know of his extracurricular activities.
No, once a month, these three individuals came together in a
“lifestyle” club to revel in sensual exploration and erotic
discovery.
It
would all begin with an email, Re: Let’s get together.
Pam would usually initiate the momentum and Imani and
Michael would soon follow along. With the date and
time finalized, the anticipation would build as the three
went about their daily business knowing that the upcoming
Friday night would be an exercise in hedonism.
Friday’s were the night of choice for the threesome.
The club was one of the emerging alternative venues where
adults came to explore their primal side. The club was
usually populated with as many blacks as whites while single
men, couples and adventurous single women roamed around in
various degrees of arousal and undress looking for a chance
to be someone that society said was taboo. There were
men who wanted to see their wives fucked by other men . . .
or women, and men that wanted to satisfy their exhibitionist
side. There were those that wanted to get what they
couldn’t at home and of course those that just wanted to
watch and jerk off. The women were not as easy to
read. A few looked like they couldn’t get dates any
other way than in an anonymous, dark sex club. Most
were attractive and comfortable with their sexuality but
needing something different. It was clear that within
the walls of Club Eros, society’s narrow standards of
acceptable sexual behavior were being pushed and stretched
to their very limit.
All
eyes would be on Pam, Michael, and Imani whenever they would
walk in the door. Their individual attractiveness was
multiplied collectively. Pam and Imani wore clothing
to accentuate their delicious, dark bodies. Pam had
the body of a brick shithouse. She was thick and round
and packin’ in all the right places. Imani, putting
away her usual Afrocentric attire, would ooze of sexuality
showing off her statuesque frame. The hours Mike spent
in the gym showed well in his form-fitting shirt.
Mostly, they turned heads because they were so comfortable
with one another.
Every
man in the place had every right to be jealous of Mike.
He had two incredibly sexy women that were at his disposal
but secure enough with themselves to steer the ship of their
own sexuality as well. It was fascinating to see them
in action: kissing, touching, caressing each other openly
and loving all the attention. Pam and Imani often
amused themselves kissing each other while sitting on
opposite sides of Michael, stroking his raging hard-on
through his pants, while spectators gathered around.
On one
particular night, Imani was feeling particularly daring and
she pulled Michael’s dick out and began to sensually lick
and suck up and down while Pamela knelt behind her to finger
her. Imani could feel Pam’s heavy breasts on her back
as she turned momentarily to suck those glorious nipples.
Pam offered up her tits and threw her head back in ecstasy,
reveling in the pleasure she was receiving.
Mike,
noticing it was time to spread out and have some more room,
interrupted the ladies momentarily and took them by the hand
to a room where they could be more comfortable. Those
that were regular spectators in the club knew to follow
closely behind because the show always proved to be
spectacular.
Inside
the room, Pamela undressed, lay back on the bed, spread her
sexy legs and began fingering herself. Mike almost
couldn’t wait to taste her but he knew that it would be
better to undress sooner rather than later when things
tended to get more heated. The whispers and sounds of
appreciation from the female onlookers made him proud of his
body but it didn’t distract him from his mission. He
loved eating pussy more than anything and he was damn good
at it. He was enamored with a woman’s nana like a
connoisseur loved a vintage Merlot. He savored every
nuance of Pam’s unique taste and drank of her succulent
juices.
Imani
loved to watch Pam and Michael in action. She held
Pam’s legs in the air as Michael’s tongue worked its magic.
He ran his tongue over and over her clit, in and out of her
pussy, licking and sucking her gently at times, ravenously
at others. He sucked her pussy lips in his mouth and
drank of her sweet juices. Time and time again he
brought her to the edge of orgasm with his mouth and lips
only to deny her her journey to bliss. Pamela’s
conservative demeanor was nothing more than a persona she
easily discarded and she made sure that Mike was getting
good instructions. “ Mmmmm, lick my pussy. Oh
shit. I love the way you eat me. Damn, you lick
pussy better than a woman.”
“Oh
really?” Imani chimed in, “let’s see about that.” She
placed her legs over Pam’s head and asked Michael if she
could have the honor. He moved out of the way, his
face covered with juices, to watch his two lovers pleasure
each other. It was virtually impossible to sit back as
a spectator however. Michael began caressing the
intertwining silky smooth limbs of his lovers . . . and
stroking his own hardness as well. Every man that had
crammed into the small room to watch was now jerking off as
the two women sensually licked each other’s pussies.
The moans, groans, sights, smells, and sounds of beautiful
feminine lovemaking filled the room. Pam climaxed
first, wrapping her legs around Imani’s head and begging her
not to stop sucking her clit. Not one to disappoint,
Imani drank all of her friend’s cum down and prepared to
execute her own orgasm shortly thereafter. It took but
a few short moments for Imani to orgasm as she sat up and
rode Pam’s tongue and came hard in her mouth.
With
barely a moment to catch her breath, the three began kissing
each other passionately. Not one to be denied, Michael
grabbed Imani and placed her across his face to taste her.
Variety is, as they say, the spice of life. Pamela,
needing a different level of satisfaction, climbed on Mike’s
dick and slid her wet folds down on him and began using his
dick like it was her own personal dildo. The two women
kissed each other and caressed each other’s breasts as they
were getting pleasure from Michael below. Michael
worked his fingers into Imani’s ass and sent her into fits
of orgasmic overload.
There
was no time for rest. “Imani, you have to get some of
this dick,” Pam moaned, as the three climbed higher and
higher to a plane of indescribable passion. They
shifted positions yet again and Imani was on her knees,
looking back in desperation, begging for Michael to fuck
her. He knew that his dick hit her in all the right
spots when she was getting fucked doggy style so he prepared
himself for a wild ride. Pam, not one to be denied,
spread her legs in front of Imani and invited her girlfriend
to sample her juices once again. Actually, she said
something closely resembling, “make me squirt in your mouth,
Imani. Suck my pussy until I shoot my cum.”
Michael eyes practically rolled back in his head as he
penetrated Imani. Her pussy gripped his dick and she
was so wet he could actually hear the squishing sounds as he
stroked her in and out. The silky smooth walls of her
pussy milked him as the curve in his dick manipulated her
g-spot perfectly.
Imani
was in another world. She had a dick made for
her pussy inside her, fucking her rhythmically, and the phat,
pink, sweetness of her lover’s pussy in her mouth. She
managed to eek out, “Fuck me harder. Ohhhh yes, fuck
me,” in between tongue-fucking her sexy female partner.
Imani was the first to explode in orgasmic bliss, her third
for the evening, which soon triggered Mike and Pam to cum as
well. Moaning and groaning, fucking and sucking, they
all yelled out as pleasure overtook them.
There
was never any jealousy or any feelings of discomfort in the
afterglow. The three shared a bond, a unique
friendship that defied definition. They kissed and
giggled as the crowd dissipated until the next time they
would come together to share in each other’s sensual selves.
Their day-to-day realities were vastly different but their
connection was nothing less than rare and beautiful.
Lust, it seems, makes for strange yet sexy bedfellows.
Copyright 2004
AfroerotiK
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The
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Sensual
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The
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