Sex, Power & Knowledge

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A dissertation on sex for thinking men & women.
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Slight introduction:

This is my fourth piece written for Literotica and it's not quite like my other things.

I have had a lot of very favourable and interesting feedback so far - mostly from men. But I would be very interested in hearing from women telling me of their experiences and fantasies (especially those interracial ones) and how they relate to my accounts.

Also, I have been asked if my pieces are fiction or fact but I will leave that up to the reader to decide.

If I were to tell you they were fantasy many would be disappointed with me but if I said they were truth many wouldn't believe me. So I will say the following; they are mainly lots of one and just a very little of the other!

Clue: (Notice, I don't call them 'stories'.)

I would like to tell you why I write... but another time, eh?

(Okay, in a nutshell, words and sex turn me on...)

* * * * *

Question.

What is the difference between Making Love and Fucking?

For me the answer is Power.

Making love is about sharing, giving, pleasing but FUCKING (I love the sound of that word) is about using, abusing, taking, dominating and is much more powerful in so many ways; the lust, the desire, the memories, the orgasms...

A girlfriend says; "For me, I think, the answer is that making love involves an expression of Love... Fucking is the fulfillment of Lust."

I am a thinking girl, alas for you guys who just want to fuck me without fucking my mind first. Actually I am intuitive, feeling and cognitive. I don't like scaring guys off with this but I do like a guy who thinks. Especially about human relationships.

(I like her "fulfillment of Lust.")

At the risk of boring you let me tell you that I am doing research on human relationships, especially male/female sexual ones. I'm studying psychology, sociological anthropology (and French literature, specialising in the Marquis de Sade). I also have a part time job in a big advertising agency. I am in my early twenties, have been told I am a tiny, black, sex goddess and you know which one, if you are a thinking man, don't you?

So, about love, sex and power...

We all want some sort of power and some people think money is power, others think it's physical strength, I know where my power lies...

And where its truth is born.

Sex is an incredible force that I have hidden away in my dark mind and body - in massive doses -and when I use it, it gives me great energy, power and knowledge.

My memories are a bit jumbled but I think one of the first times I realised and released this knowledge was when I was about... quite young.

As a young girl, when my boobs and pussy hairs were just growing and I was still a tomboy, hanging upside down from trees, doing the splits, handstands, cartwheels, backward rolls and all those gymnastic activities girls get up to, usually wearing little summer skirts or tight shorts that I was outgrowing I often had people watching me in admiration. Not surprisingly boys and men with a certain sort of concentration on their faces. Their gazes were usually fixed between my thighs. I enjoyed this. And so, I performed more enthusiastically, sitting straight with my legs spread and slowly raising them, right over my shoulders and putting my ankles around my neck.

I am very elastic, by the way.

Oh, I hadn't mentioned this, had I? I suppose I could have been a contortionist. I am a sexual contortionist. But more of that later.

Men would be transfixed and their wives would move them on. All eyes were on my little pussy outlined beneath my tight panties. I was aware of this even then and have often wondered why it turned me on even at that young age but never troubled me. I would be wet and tingling without knowing what was irritating me. I would shin up a tree to the highest branches- it's an old oak tree on the Common - and ride that top thick, smooth bough as though I were a horsewoman but, very quickly, if I were alone, I would be simply rubbing my sex hard against the bark, legs and arms wrapped tightly around this thickness and experiencing strong sexual feelings. Orgasms.

I was a pre-teen tree fucker!

Other girls of my age were not like this, as I soon found out. And I had to hide my sexuality from them but loved flaunting it 'innocently' in front of boys. Giving them flashes of what they wanted to see. Just flashes.

Until one day we were on the Common, me and three boys in the year above me. We started wrestling - yes I did that, too - and suddenly I was having my knickers yanked off! This excited me but I had to put up a struggle, just for the show of it! I had my skinny black thighs wrapped around one of them squeezing his ribs but they prized me open and ripped off my little, white panties that must have been a little bit moist, I reckon.

They had pulled them off in an act of bravado and there I was sitting on the grass, bare assed in my summer dress, which was covered in grass stains, and these silly schoolboys had my knickers and they didn't know what to do with them.

I smiled, raised my knees to my chin and put my arms around my shins. I was sure they could see under the hem of my dress. I knew what to do.

"Can I have my panties back, please?" I asked sweetly.

"Come and get them!" they taunted.

"Please..." I whispered, taking my arms away and leaning back on them, letting my legs relax open, slightly.

I can't remember all the details but they came closer, waving my panties in my face and I started showing more and more of The Thing I Had That Could Control Males, knowing I had them in my complete power, me, a little girl. (I'm still little at five foot one.)

Even at that early age, I say again, I instinctively knew about sexual control.

Grabbing my panties from the boy near me I held them to my face and breathed in deeply.

"Have you smelt them?" I teased and I knew exactly what I was doing though I had never done this before.

I waved them in front of Brian's face and beckoned him with a finger.

"Smell this perfume, Brian," stroking the crotch of my knickers over his mouth and nose.. They smelt of horny little girl. The odour had even turned me on so I knew Brian wouldn't be able to resist.

"Hmmmm..." was what he said or something equivalent. The other two reached out for my knickers and breathed them in.

"Smells good, doesn't it? Here is the Origin of that Exquisite Perfume..." as I completely spread my legs.

"Come closer, boys."

I was playing with them, could do what I wanted with these boys and I can still do what I want with any man, including my Daddy.

They were panting and staring at my pussy. My pink, pussy lips have always been thick and prominent, contrasting with the chocolate colour around them. They were looking at a girl with the shaven cunt of a woman.

"You are only allowed to sniff... and kiss me there too.." as the first one approached.

"Get on your hands and knees like a dog and sniff my pussy... rub your face in it."

I could smell it strongly so they must have been smothered in that sweet, sexy smell. Each in turn came and sniffed and kissed but I wouldn't let them touch it with their fingers.

Then I made them lie on the grass and take down their jeans so I could see what they had seen 'chez moi' and I held their Willies that had now become Pricks.

(Nowadays I prefer Cocks and Dicks.)

With my legs spread I wanked my first prick and he was mine to do with what I wanted. When he quickly started breathing heavily as if he were about to come I stopped and took another one in hand.

I had become an artist who had discovered her innate skills. Mine concerned sexual satisfaction, sexual control and power.

I sat back and faced them.

"Listen, don't touch you pricks! Look at my pussy..."

I am sure it was winking at them now.

My knees were up and my legs were totally wide open and I knew they were seeing paradise. I put my hands on my twitching, twat, spread it, rub it, fingered it and started having an orgasm as they watched mesmerised.

"Now you can wank."

Suddenly their hands became blurs over their dicks. I must have crawled over to two of them and lay between them with my hands all over balls and I watch them shoot thin lengths of come into the air - seemingly shooting forever as youngsters do.

I told them they could have more if they didn't tell anyone and they went away in wonder and in awe. And they did have more, but no fucking.

These were some of the same boys I was still cock-teasing five or six years later.

This experience gave me a wonderful sensation of power over men and I knew I could do whatever I willed with them, even when they thought they had the upper hand.

So...

Coming back to my initial question and my answer.

Do you prefer fucking or making love?

It wasn't exactly my first question but it comes down to the same.

I prefer fucking.

Human relationships are based on domination and most women want to be dominated, forced to a degree, coerced, used and taken.

And when you are a very sexy, petite, sweet, black girl with oriental eyes that white men lust over you are no exception.

In the above incident with the schoolboys I was their dominatrice, they were my subs.

But few women can resist a really, really horny man, a man who wants her badly, who insists with his crude words carried to her groin on his low, sexy voice, his lustful looks and ways... a man who knows what he wants and how to obtain it...

But more of this later ;)

And what is it about blacks and whites, I have been asked.

Well that's easy.

Blacks were the slaves of whites and what greater pleasure for the black man than to subjugate the white wife of his master?

This is the history, anyway.

And for the white wife... the taboo of being taken by the slave, being made his slut, to worship his big, black dick, being dominated by this sex hungry animal. And fucked and fucked...

I think a lot white women could relate to that.

But what does this Black Barbie Doll find so sexually attractive in white men. Well, we women were also their slaves and were used - how and where and when they wanted. Some used us well, others beat us. Some of us hated them others loved them. I must have been one of the others and wonder if it isn't in my genes.

Modern research suggests that many behavioural tendencies come from genes and I wonder where my lust for sex and for white men comes from, my instinctive understanding of sex and men. I feel as though I was born with this knowledge and this power.

Genes?

And in writing about my experiences I hope to find some answers.

Sorry about giving you a dissertation here, but I promise you, you'll have more sex next time.

Probably about Quentin, my horny, drunken boyfriend who was engaged to a white girl and who lead me into debauchery in London pubs and clubs. I have been thinking about him a lot recently.

Oh dear, I really was a bad girl.

Hope you still love me anyway, you Thinking Guys?

(And you non-thinking beasts who would probably fuck the shit out of me, anyway ;)

Your chocky.

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