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Afroerotik
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Username: Afroerotik

Post Number: 57
Registered: 01-2006

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Posted on Sunday, April 23, 2006 - 11:08 pm:   Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post    Ban Poster IP (Moderator/Admin only)

Sometimes, the best erotic expression is short and sweet and to the point, like your favorite song on the radio that moves you and is over almost as soon as it begins. The words and the music all come together and wrap themselves like a memorable lover wraps themselves around your mind, arousing you and satisfying you in a multitude of ways. It’s the steady pounding of the Afro-Cuban rhythm that is genetically encoded in our DNA. It’s the sexy salsa song that gets the blood pumping in your veins. It’s that jazzy, funky, R&B that Black people all over the world can relate to. That soulful rhythm that soothes and moves you to a place where you can say, “I’m happy to be nappy, I'm black and I'm proud, that I have been chosen to wear the conscious cloud, And I'm fine under Cloud 9.”

And you sho do feel like you are on Cloud 9 when your lover is touching you in your hot spot, caressing it, manipulating it to get you so turned on you can’t see straight. You ever notice how your favorite song can take you back and you can remember the exact place and time you and your lover were the first time you made love? You can recall exactly what they smelled like, what their kisses felt like. You were so nervous when you first met, afraid to even let them know you liked them, let alone that you wanted to go out. But somehow, you got up the nerve. You rehearsed exactly what you were going to say before you picked up the phone and said, “Let’s take a long walk, around the park, find a spot for us to spark conversation, verbal elation, stimulation Share our situations, temptation, education, relaxation, elevation, or maybe we can talk about Surah 31:18”

It was all about spending time together and getting to know each other. It was all about that thrill you got when the phone rang and you saw their name on your caller ID and your heart would skip a beat. Isn’t that the best feeling? If I could bottle it up and sell it I would be a millionaire. It seems like you have that feeling in abundance when you are a kid and you are infatuated with a new person every week. As we get older, that feeling doesn’t happen as much so we try to hold on to that sensation whenever we feel it. Our thoughts get clouded and all we can think about is that person and what they are doing and when the next time you can see them and if they are thinking about you in the same way. You get all nervous that they don’t feel the same way about you until you get that voicemail that you play over and over again. You know the one that says, “I’m not trying to pressure you, just can’t stop thinking bout you, you don’t even really have to be my girlfriend. I just want to know your name and maybe sometime we could hook up, hang out, and just chill.”

Those were the days. You hear that song and you say, “Oohhh shit, that was my jam.” You wonder how someone else could have put into words exactly what you were thinking and feeling so well. You know good and god damn well that you would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and sing into your toothbrush and fantasize that you were singing to that special person in your life. You could envision everything in your mind, the candles, the Cool Whip, actually it was Ready Whip cause you needed the nozzle to aim and fire. Maxwell was in the background telling you, “It happened the moment, when you were revealed 'Cause you were a dream that you should not have been A fantasy real. You gave me this beating baby, this rhythm inside, and you made me feel good and feel nice and feel loved, give me paradise.”

Oh damn, now that was some hot shit. That first night you made love was the stuff they write erotic stories about. The anticipation, the tension, the foreplay, all of it had your juices flowing and your body tingling. Tender skin and erect nipples, soft moans of pleasure serenading your ears. It’s all about making love and feeling that body crushed against you, sweating, grinding, driving you to the edge of ecstasy and beyond. It’s the moment of penetration for the first time when you are overwhelmed by the sensation and you feel like you can’t catch your breath. It’s that wet, hard, sticky, hot Black love when you look in your lover’s eyes and say, “All you gotta do is say yes, Don't deny what you feel let me undress you baby, Open up your mind and just rest, I'm about to let you know you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so”

You make me so so hot for your special kind of love. That fast and furious kind of fucking in public when I don’t give a damn if people see us, all I know is that if I don’t cum soon I will explode. It’s that special kind of love when we start fucking on a Friday evening and don’t stop until Saturday afternoon when we have to open the door for the take out delivery guy because we are both too exhausted to move. We aren’t too exhausted to take a shower together though, soaping up our bodies and getting hot and wet. Then after the shower you oil up my body with the Kemi Oil and my body responds to your touch and I’m desperate to have you inside me again, in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass. By Saturday night, your neighbors are pounding on the walls trying to get some sleep because our passion is loud and primal with no apologies. They can hear me calling out your name. But it’s all good because, “There's nowhere to hide when the love is callin' your name, yeah From the dark, babe, nowhere to hide, baby There's nowhere to hide, so let love have it's way with your heart When love calls, love calls, love calls your name.”

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK.com

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