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Black Love

By: Love_Dice



It all started on a Sunday the last Sunday of the summer before I headed off to school. It was a nice Sunday morning. I had just woken up and just looking around the house. As I got out of bed I’m noticing that I have to call this girl back. That had wanted to do something on this Sunday. 

  As I’m looking for my phone book, I’m noticing what a hard on I have thinking of what I’m going to do with my chocolate beauty. As I’m flipping the pages in my book I see my name, friends name like my buddy mark, and my girls like kia. As I approach the next couple of pages I see my black beauty’s number.

  I’m so ready to see her and just make this hard on go away that I stroke my dick to its full potential. I start dialing the area code then number. After about a few rings my black beauty answers saying in her sexy voice “hello”, I answer quickly “hi sweets”. “How you doing today”, I said “good”, she replies. “You ready to do something today?” I said “Maybe” she says in a sexy yet calm voice. “All right then!” I answer.

  Its now 12:00pm and no show, as I’m chilling around my house I’m thinking she’s going get it for making me wait. I called her at 10:30 and its now 1:30pm as I’m in my kitchen making lunch. My sis is telling me your friends here. I’m like “shit” I put my lunch away and walk to the door. As I open the door I see my black beauty 5’3 black lovely hair with a hint of red in it, her lovely eyes that I can get lost in, and her perfect c-cup breasts that slightly sag but damn do I love sucking those tits of hers. She’s short but she makes everything she wears look good on her. Wearing her tight jean that makes her ass stick out. I’m standing there in my shorts no boxers and my cut off nikey shirt that’s says hard rock. And yes I did have a hard rock. I invite her in her sexy self, walks in looking at me smiling. I say hi and ask her if she wanted to go down stairs. My basement is like a den nice and comfortable and were we can get our privacy. 

  As I’m sitting down next her I ask her about her day and how her weeks been going. I move in closer and kiss her on the chick as I move in to kiss her lips she moves away. I try again and she does it again. She asks if I can put the t.v. on I do. As were sitting there watching MTV I see her checking out my crouch area and she notices my hard on. As I see her looking at me I move in closer we make out passionately and she loves every minute of it. As I move my hands over her body she’s moaning and kissing me as I kiss around her neck and ear. She just goes into a mad rage kissing me forcing her tongue into my mouth, not letting me tease her. As we get hot I move my hands down to her waist and try to unbutton her jeans. She pulls my hands up and keeps kissing me. I try once more and I unbutton her pants and unzip her zipper. As I get up to pull her pants down she holds them up.

  I move down and kiss her I put her left leg on my shoulder and get into a better position on the “L” shaped couch in my basement. As shes lying there I’m kissing her with a passion shes gone to far in not letting me have her. So I lift her other leg up while still holding her and kissing her. I lift her ass off the couch my a few inches and pull her pants off. I see shes just wearing her regular panties and not her sexy black thong. I pull them down and she tries to stop me but gives into her own temptation. I stick a finger in her cunt and she is so wet that it coats my whole index finger. As she saying no, I’m telling her in her ear I’m going fuck you like I never fucked u before. I pull my shorts down and out flings my cock at full attention I rub her clit with it. And I’m still kissing her. I put my cock in her and start to pound away at her cunt and shes moaning. I told her for teasing me I’m going to fuck her hard and I do just that.

 As I’m pounding away at her tight cunt I feel my balls ache after about seems like hours of fucking. My dick just unloads wave after wave of hot cum into her pussy feeling her up. I stay in her for about a couple of minutes till my member was fully drained. Pull out and kiss her and I say to myself fuck that was great but also I forgot to wear a condom. Shit what now. I get up and walk into the bathroom/laundry room and look at myself in the mirror wiping my sweat off my face. I walk back in and shes standing there pulling her panties up then her pants as I see cum dripping alittle down her thigh before she pulls her pants up all the way. I sit there and look at her and shes looking at me and ask her am I the first too ever cum in you and she says yes. 

In my head I’m like fuck what the hell happened, its like I turned into an animal and just fucked her with ease. But as I kiss her she just sits there. 

I walk her to her red car. I tell her I love you and she replies. She leaves and I go back into the house and say fuck that was great!!!!!!!

 But what happens now, I guess I’m going to have to wait and see…………….

Black Love : Anal Edition



My name is Marco Joseph and I'm a big and tall black man of Haitian descent living in the city of Buffalo, New York. I'm a third-year student at Buffalo State College, majoring in business administration. My girlfriend Rita Jackson is a tall, busty and big-bottomed, heavyset yet still sexy young black woman of African-American and Hispanic descent. This six-foot-one, 250-pound black Amazon who captains the school's women's rugby squad is the love of my life. And we're having a lot of fun together these days. We live in the same dorm. Imagine the possibilities.

Rita is kneeling before me right now, and she's sucking my long and thick black cock like it's going out of style. We're really into hooking up. Our way of keeping the passion going. I love my girlfriend. She's big, sexy and loves to fuck. And she's really nice to me. We get along wonderfully. While Rita sucks my cock and strokes my balls, I run my hands through her long black hair. It's her natural hair, and I love it. Feels so smooth in my hands.

Rita works her magic on me and gets my cock hard as a piston in a few minutes. I'm ready to cum and let her know. She continues sucking me until I cum. When I do, it's something to behold. I cum all over Rita's pretty face, erupting like a frigging geyser. Rita sucks my cum right out of my dick. She drains me of my manly essence without spilling a drop. She's amazing. When she's done, she looks up at me and smiles. I smile right back at her and thank my lady for a job well done. Then it's my turn to reciprocate.

I spread Rita's shapely, plump thighs wide open and breathe the scent of her womanhood. I love the way she smells and tastes. I start licking my lady's sweet pussy like there's no tomorrow. And she absolutely loves it. Rita loves it when I go down on her. I finger her snatch, gently bite her clit and tease her endless while working my magic on her. My woman squeals in delight as I bring her some extreme pleasure. I am good at what I do. Lots of women agree. I've got no complaints.

After licking Rita's pussy, I'm ready to fuck her. This time, Rita surprises me. She doesn't want vaginal sex tonight. She goes straight for the butt. My sexy lady grabs a strap-on dildo from her handbag and straps it on. I watch her, grinning. I assume the position because I like kinky sex. And I'm always down for getting fucked by my woman. She knows what I like. We have a great understanding both emotionally and sexually. That's why we get along so well.

I get on all fours and spread my ass cheeks wide open. Rita comes up behind me with her dildo and lubricant. She smears lube all over my asshole and then presses the dildo against my butt hole. Slowly, she slides the dildo inside. This isn't my first time getting fucked by her so we're quite comfortable with each other. Rita grips my hips and thrusts the dildo deep into me. I stroke my cock while getting fucked by my woman. This is definitely not something you see every day. A big and tall black man getting fucked by a big and tall, sexy black woman with a strap-on dildo. Porno directors aren't half as kinky as the average black couple in the big city. If they were, the Internet would be hotter.

While Rita fucks me, she gets really into it. She barks cuss words while fucking me and I love every minute of it. After ten minutes of getting my ass pounded by my favorite big and tall black woman, I'm just about ready to blow. And I do. The moment I cum, Rita pulls her dildo out of me and then starts sucking my cock. She licks my long and thick, uncircumcised black cock right after fucking my ass with her big strap-on dildo. Is my woman cool or what?

After sucking me off for the third time that night, Rita is still not sated. Now it's her turn to get fucked in the ass. The only thing Rita loves more than fucking me in the ass is to get fucked by me. I take the lubricant and smear it all over her asshole. Then I stroke my cock and get it nice and hard so I can fuck her. I press my cock against Rita's asshole and push it inside. Now we're talking. I pump my cock into her asshole. I love fucking my big beautiful black girlfriend in her gigantic black butt. She loves getting fucked in her big ass. I feel her asshole grip my cock and love it. Rita squeals while I fuck her in the ass. I drill my cock into her asshole mercilessly. She likes rough anal sex and I'm more than happy to give it to her. I fuck her hard until I cum. I flood her asshole with my manly spunk. Then I make her suck my cock right after it came out of her ass. We kiss passionately and go to sleep. Happy as can be.



Black Love Ch. 02



Tonight was a night I was looking forward too. It was our junior-senior dinner and dance. It’s like our basketball homecoming. It’s the night of junior senior and I’m awaiting my black beauty. I just can’t wait until I see her sexy ass in a dress that I know she will look to good in. And I had the most gorgeous date. She is 5’2 gorgeous body, curves like you wouldn’t believe. A nice ass and an out of this world body. She wears a 36C bra. Her tits are like two gorgeous mounds of chocolate that I love to suck and nibble on. Her nipples get so hard it shows through half her shirts. Well enough about her, until later. Me I’m 6’3 very tall guy, some what masculine. I have that football player build. I have a great personality and great sense of humor. A very big cock that my black beauty loves. 

Well back to my story. It was a Sunday in Febuary. And I was awaiting my dance. Around 4:00 I call my beautiful black lover. I ask what she is doing and she says watching TV. I ask if she is ready for a great night out. And she replies with yes. It’s like 4:10 and I start to get dress. For tonight’s dinner and dance. I’m going wear a nice black pair of pants and a nice silky black dress shirt. And silver tie with this little gold and silver tiepin with my last names initial on it “H”. As I get dress and I look in the mirror I realize how good I look. And I keep thinking of what my black beauty is going to wear. As I go down stairs I walk around constantly waiting for her arrival. I make fun of my dad saying he wishes he looks this good and my parents laugh. As I approach the window I see my black beauty’s car approach. I see her step out of her red car and come towards my house. I open up the side door and walk down the steps, to help this gorgeous woman up the snow and icy steps. She enters my home and I see how gorgeous and sexy she looks. As my black beauty enters my house she is banging in that sleek black dress that hugs all her curves in every which way. Her black dress clings to her body showing every sexy detail she has to offer. As I undress with my eyes, I keep saying to myself you’re the greatest guy in the world tonight.

As my mom is talking to my princess I walk into the dining room to get a rose I had gotten her. As we start to leave I go ahead of her holding her hand as she walks down my steps. And I just take in her true beauty. As we approach her car, it’s like really cold and. I stare at her hard nipples from the cold and I begin to undress her with my eyes. I look over at my princess her nipple just sticking out of her black dress. I’m like thank you god to myself. As were in the car I’m looking admiring her every feature. As were in the car approaching the embassy snowy just falls down from the sky covering everything in sight. We get out of the car and enter the building, at the time I thought we were both late and as we look around the room there is only one of person. Our friend Shelia. We sit with her and chat for awhile until everyone else shows up. 

As the dinner and dance starts up we talk to our friends and I introduce my black beauty to all my friends. My guy friends keep saying Tim that you. I was like yeah. I literally had one of the most gorgeous women in the room. As everyone is dancing my gorgeous date was sick and not up to dancing so I sat with her all night. As the dancing slows down the awards part of the dinner start up and I keep hoping I’m going to win most likely to succeed. But my friend Jose wins it. But my one friend Roy cheers me up and says Tim you don’t need no award to show that your going to succeed you know your all ready going to succeed. That made me feel a lot better. As the last song is playing my black beauty and me leave. As we approach my house I invite her in and we goto my room. 

While sitting on my bed we talk, she moves from my bed to this chair in the corner of my room. She starts to fall asleep and I pick her up moving her to my bed lying her down so she can rest. As we lie there I start to kiss her and kiss around her neck. She kiss's me back as lovingly as I had. I slip a hand in her dress feeling around her waist and ass. I push up her dress to her waist and slip off her black stockings. As I admirer her great legs, then I slip off her panties. And her panties and stockings was now a pile on my floor. I then take off my pants and boxers and slid in between her legs. Before I enter her hot slick cunt I look down she pulls me into her and we kiss passionately. I slid my dick into her and she lifts her legs up so I can enter her better and I just start to make love to her and kiss her. As were making love and my black beauty was like a gymnast as she did a straddle on my hard cock her body bouncing up and down. I shoot hot cum into her and move out from in between her legs. She lies there and I lie there. I get hard once more, and go back to doing what I know best and I just make love to her. She says her legs hurt, but at the moment I lost all feeling and can only focus on making love to her. I pull out and lie down beside her. And I’m like damn what a great night. After our fun we start to kiss and… Well that’s the end of my night with my gorgeous black beauty.



Black Love Chronicles



There is nothing quite like doing that which makes you happy. My name is Jason Jean-Bernard and I'm a man with two lives. In the eyes of the world, I am a successful Haitian-American lawyer who makes a good living defending corporate fat cats. It's what I've always wanted to do. Growing up, I was a nerd who watched Law & Order religiously and did mock trials with like-minded friends rather than play sports or video games. And I pursued my dreams as an adult. I earned my bachelor's degree in criminal justice from Morehouse College and later got my law degree from Howard University in Washington D.C. I am happily married to a tall, beautiful black woman named Joanna Gustamar. This six-foot-three, big-bottomed black Amazon was considered the Queen Bee of Spelman College. A top scholar and outstanding athlete. A brother had to be on top of his game before he stepped up to her. Luckily, I've always had game. I'm only six-foot-one but I don't let any lady intimidate me. Ever. I'm the man and that's not going to change.

Joanna and I met while I attended a certain party at Morehouse College. A party where all the top black college men mingled with all the top black college women. Strictly A-List. Students from Morehouse College, Clark-Atlanta University, Spelman College and Georgia Tech were invited. Even in this crowd filled with good-looking black ladies and sexy black men, Joanna stood out. She simply did. Joanna was not what I expected. This gorgeous black lady was friendly, warm and very easygoing. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that she was of Haitian descent, just like me. Her parents, Luther and Jezabel Gustamar moved to the U.S. in the early 1980s and she was born in Atlanta, Georgia. Her daddy's a professor of civil engineering at Georgia Tech and her mother is a state policewoman. This gal was a Southern belle through and true. We got along wonderfully as friends and started dating seriously after a while. We got hitched right after graduation. 

Our wedding was a grand affair, folks. All of my guys from Morehouse College were in attendance, as were Joanna's female friends from Spelman. My parents, Francois and Elmira Jean-Bernard came down from the Republic of Haiti specifically for that. My parents and I haven't been on the best of terms ever since I came out to them. What do I mean by that? I'm bisexual. I had a few sexual encounters with both men and women early during my college days. I told Joanna about my bisexuality before we started dating and she was cool with me. Before she accepted my marriage proposal, she made me swear I'd be faithful to her and forsake all other women and men. I loved her so I made that solemn promise to her. My mother wasn't thrilled that I married a young lady who was Haitian in name only. Joanna is Haitian-American but doesn't speak a word of Creole. I understood where my mama was coming from. My origins and my culture mattered to me a great deal. However, I couldn't let them blind me to the fact that Joanna was perfect for me. I don't know many bisexual black men who find a beautiful black woman who accepts them the way they are and continues to love them. I really don't know many brothers who are as lucky as I am. So I wasn't about to jeopardize my relationship with Joanna. Sorry mom.

After graduation, Joanna and I moved from Atlanta, Georgia, to Washington D.C. We lived in an apartment together while attending Howard University. It wasn't easy. Juggling a marriage with work and college life. Still, we made it work. Joanna recently earned her MBA and now works for Anderson Limited, a multinational corporation with headquarters in our nation's capital. She made two hundred and twenty grand her first year on the job. This while I was still searching for a law firm that would hire me. And how did I feel about that? I was ecstatic! Yeah, I'm really proud of my lady. We recently bought a nice house in an upscale neighborhood. I love my life and I love my wife, folks. I don't hide anything from her. Well, almost anything. Nothing that matters anyway. We'll get to that later.

It's hard for a brother to meet a sister who really understands and loves him. Some brothers are lucky. I look at Jay-Z and Beyonce. They look hot together. They're good-looking, wealthy and talented. Look at our President Barack Obama and our First Lady Michelle. They look stunning together and you can tell their love is real. While visiting some friends in Brockton, Massachusetts, I saw Governor Deval Patrick and his wife Diane on a routine visit to the city. There's another hot black power couple. Some brothers, like Chris Brown, are not so lucky. He and Rihanna could have had it all. Instead they ended up a modern-day version of Ike Turner and Tina Turner. I would never put my hands on the lady in my life. I've got too much respect for her. I also wouldn't tolerate her putting her hands on me. I've got too much respect for myself. Don't fool yourself. There are violent women and male victims of domestic abuse out there. It's not all one-sided like feminists would have you believe. Believe me. I know. 

Life in Washington D.C. was cool. And I was making big bucks for the law firm of Wilson, Dale & Armand. My boss, Jerome Armand is one of the few Haitian-American lawyers in the city. He moved to the U.S during the 1970s as a young man to escape the Duvalier Regime in the Republic of Haiti. Like me, he attended Howard University Law School and practiced law in the city. He founded the firm with two Irish classmates, Henry Dale and Jacob Wilson, in January of 1989. Twenty years later, they were one of the top law firms in the city. Jerome was married to a beautiful lady named Miranda Joseph and they had two sons and three daughters together. The man was wealthy, powerful and commanded respect. He kind of reminds me of that regal African-American actor James Earl Jones. At the firm, he took me under his wing. Now, don't think I expect special treatment at the firm simply because a friend and fellow black man is calling the shots. I intended to earn my keep. And I did that by keeping rich white guys out of jail when they imitated the likes of Enron and Bernard Madoff. 

There are three senior partners and twenty four lawyers at the firm. Six of them are black, two are Hispanics, one is Arab, one is Asian and the rest are white. The firm goes through junior associates the way Ford goes through models. They seldom last long. I was doing well, but I still had to watch my back. My rivals were Jennifer O'Bannon, a tall and blonde-haired Irish hussy hailing from Cornell University, and Adam Chang, the firm's only Asian lawyer, a graduate of Harvard Law School. A lot of Ivy League lawyers think they're better than those of us who graduated from HBCUs. The firm took a big chance when they passed up several diverse candidates from top notch schools and chose me, the man from Howard University. I learned a lot from the diverse faculty at Howard University Law School. And I intended to prove to anyone with doubts that people from historically black law schools could kick the butts of any Ivy Leaguers. The way I see it, a man or woman with limited ability will remain the way until they die. Education can't change that. Talent is genetic, just like intelligence. Environment plays a key role, but it's not everything.

I needed every ounce of my strength as I represented Dwight Henderson, a middle-aged white man who's worth two and a half billion dollars. The Securities and Exchange Commission was coming down on him like the hammer of God thanks to some shady deals he made with foreign powers on behalf of his company, Henderson & Hamilton Incorporated. Dwight Henderson was an old friend of my boss, Jerome Armand. The two met at Howard University decades ago. Mr. Henderson wanted my boss's firm to keep his rich white ass out of jail and keep his money in offshore accounts where the USA had zero jurisdiction. I was part of a team of lawyers defending the rich bastard. And I was the only person under thirty on the team. 

The other lawyers were Madeline O'Shea, a red-haired white woman in her early forties, Luke Crawford, a blond guy who looks like an action movie star and Jack Bader, a Jewish guy who's been with the firm since the beginning. Yeah, there I was. A twenty-seven-year-old black lawyer sitting at the table with the big shots. Since Dwight Henderson had bilked a ton of people from diverse communities ( including African-Americans, Hispanics and Jews ) out of their money, the Powers That Be thought having a black lawyer and a Jew defending him would be a plus. My boss Jerome Armand was taking a big chance by letting me be on the dream team. If I failed, it would mean the end of my career at the firm and he'd be deeply embarrassed. I had to succeed.

Sometimes, it really sucks to be me. I was handling the case of a lifetime and I was having some trouble at home. Joanna was changing before my eyes and I didn't know why. My sweet, good-natured and patient wife was restless. And she wouldn't talk about it. I tried to mend things by taking her out to dinner at an upscale restaurant, taking her dancing at a reggae club and buying her jewelry. Nothing worked. When I made romantic advances to her in the bedroom, she turned cold. Something was going on. I simply didn't know why. And I didn't have time to figure it out. The house where we live is a four-bedroom mansion with three bathrooms, two living rooms and two kitchens. It costs us three hundred thousand dollars. And I still had forty grand in student loans to worry about. I made one hundred and eighty grand last year after taxes, and it's barely enough to keep my wife and I afloat. I had to win a lot of big cases, otherwise we wouldn't be able to afford our lifestyle. Joanna liked driving the red convertible I bought her, but she didn't seem to understand that I had to do certain things in order to get it for her.

There are certain things an upwardly mobile, college-educated black male professional in Washington D.C. has to do. Things like playing golf with rich white guys while turning a blind eye to their lonely, overtly flirtatious lily-white wives and daughters. Hell, sometimes their lily-white sons came onto me. I turned them all down. I wasn't even tempted. My wife Joanna is sexier than any man or woman I've ever seen. I also had to make nice with the African-American politicians and businessmen who have been the backbone of the city for decades. Washington D.C. has been a Mecca for black power couples long before Barack and Michelle Obama arrived. Making nice with the black politicians and affluent black businesspeople took a lot of time. Yeah, and I also had to attend all company functions. 

At the firm's parties, Joanna and I looked good together. Yet she hated being there. I couldn't understand why. Everything I did was for Joanna. She doesn't know it yet but I put eighty grand in an offshore account to ensure that she would be taken care of should anything happen to me. It's not a lot but it's a start. I love my Joanna. When we got married, she was my dream woman. The tall, beautiful black college sportswoman who married the tall black nerd that I was and will always be. I don't wear horn-rimmed glasses anymore but I'm still nerdy in the extreme. I subscribe to magazines like Scientific American, American Chess Bulletin and Black Enterprise. The last time I read King Magazine or Sports Illustrated, I wasn't even in high school. 

So, although it broke my heart to do it, I put Joanna out of mind and focused on the case. Keeping billionaire Dwight Henderson out of jail took precedence over my marital problems. At least for a little while. I hoped the case wouldn't last long. Once it was over, I'd take care of Joanna. I'd treat her to an expensive overseas vacation. We could go to Saint Lucia or Jamaica if she wanted. I love my wife, folks. She matters to me more than she realizes. To me, she's a dream come true. I'm not ignoring her. I'm doing this for her. The dream team was assembled, and we went to court to defend one of corporate America's most hated rich white guys. Dwight Henderson ranks right behind Bernard Madoff in the eyes of the public. Defending him didn't earn me any accolades in the eyes of the American public. The black community of Washington D.C. was especially disappointed. Even the President of the United States criticized my client and his ilk on national television. CNN did a story on it. I faced criticism from Washington's prominent Jews as well. I was in the spotlight, but not the way I dreamed of it. America saw me as the black lawyer who becomes a sellout to defend the evil rich white guy who stole from poor people nationwide. It's fun to be me, isn't it?

As I worked on the case, I found myself pulled into different directions. My wife Joanna was growing more and more distant toward me. I told her that after the case, I'd make it up to her. She's an executive at a large company, she should understand the pressures of work. Why wasn't she sympathetic to my plight? Every free moment I had, I tried to indulge her, care for her and take care of her. In court, I was fighting like a one-man army. The jury had been selected and the Attorney General was gearing up for one hell of a fight. She's one tough cookie who's made a name for herself by taking down fat cats in high places. Our legal team feared her. I didn't. Why? I guess you could call it nerves of steel or the overconfidence of youth.

For weeks I watched my co-counsel go after the Attorney General like hawks after a dove and the tall, beautiful black woman who embodied so much of Washington D.C's true power beat them senseless. I had to hand it to the Attorney General. I did enjoy watching such a fine-looking and beautiful sister beat a bunch of arrogant white lawyers at their own game. Our team tried to portray Dwight Henderson as a decent man, philanthropist and family man. The jury, made up of two Hispanics, two Arabs, five blacks and three whites, clearly wasn't buying it. The entire world knew Dwight Henderson to be a ladies man. He had been married four times and divorced four times. His daughter Ariel was a scandalous figure famous for wasting her father's money at Hollywood parties. His son Michael was recently arrested for bashing one of his friends in the head with a shovel. Yeah, Dwight Henderson wasn't Mr. Family Values in the eyes of most Americans. When it came time for me to speak on his behalf, I used that to my advantage.

Standing before the jury, I told them exactly what I thought of Dwight Henderson. I thought he was a rich white bastard who thought he could get away with everything because he had money. I knew the jury agreed judging by their smiles. My co-counsel were stunned. Henderson looked at me with hooded, angry eyes. I winked at him and continued. I cautiously explained the difference between a dislikable character and a criminal. Then I brought in a team of experts to explain to the jury what exactly Henderson did with his money. The guy was too busy banging Thai hookers in Bangkok to broker illegal deals with foreign powers. Unless Thai pimps counted as foreign powers. I had the jury eating out of my hand, folks. I don't know who was more surprised, my legal team or the prosecutor. 

When the jury handed a unanimous verdict of not guilty, I knew the game was won. Yeah, I had single-handedly won the case, though I feigned humility and said it was a team effort. Folks, Henderson hugged me in open court. I couldn't believe it. Of course he was thrilled that I kept his rich white ass out of jail. As for the rest of our legal team, they were stunned. Before we left the court house, I'd been promoted to junior partner. And two days later, three hundred and seventy five thousand dollars would be wired to my bank account. That's on top of my legal fees, folks. Just a bonus from the senior partners at the firm. Their way of saying thank you for saving their butts. Of course, I was overjoyed and went straight to my wife. I had to share the news with Joanna.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find my Joanna anywhere. I frantically called her friends, her co-workers and even her parents. I called every hospital in town. I went to the police station, and that's where I learned the awful truth. My wife nearly died. My beloved Joanna almost perished in a car crash on her way home from work that afternoon. Her blood alcohol level was extremely high. When they told me this, I fell to my knees. Just like that, all my hopes and dreams were almost gone. Everything I did was for Joanna and the family we'd have one day. And now fate had nearly taken her from me. I rushed to the hospital. Seeing her lying on that bed, all bandaged up...it brought tears to my eyes. 

Standing by Joanna's bed was the doctor, a stocky black man, and he was talking to a black lady who was apparently one of Joanna's co-workers. The lady introduced herself as Susan Brown and told me she was Joanna's closest friend and confidante. And she let me have it. Apparently, for the past few months, Joanna had been having many problems. She was under a lot of pressure at work and it led to her drinking. Friends tried to caution her but there was only so much they could do. This was something I should have been dealing with, not my wife's friends. I wondered aloud why Joanna didn't simply come to me. Susan grimaced and told me I'd been too busy protecting rich white guys from the wrath of the justice system. I sat down by Joanna's side, and wept. The doctor laid his hand on my shoulder and told me Joanna would be alright. She suffered no permanent damage. She'd be alright. Of course, there was the matter of her drunk driving but I told him I'd handle it. One phone call from a senior partner at my firm to the Washington D.C. Police Department got the case erased. As if it never happened.

I took my wife's hand in mine and kissed it. At that moment, she opened her eyes. I smiled at her. Joanna gently shook her head, smiled sadly but didn't say anything. I told her that from now on, I would always prioritize her. I had already asked my boss Jerome Armand for some time off. Since I was the hero of the day, he couldn't refuse me. I now realize I wasn't focused on what mattered. I neglected my wife and my marriage. From now on, I'm going to be there for Joanna. I'm going to get her the best treatment money can buy. We're going to be okay. Joanna smiled and squeezed my hand. Hovering nearby, Susan smiled. I thanked her for being there for my Joanna, and looked into my wife's eyes. I pray to God we're going to be alright.



Black Love Exists in Canada



Man, I sometimes wonder why so many Black men out there are into chasing White women. Seriously. I find White women uptight, annoying and quite frankly I find them all kind of fake. In the city of Ottawa in Ontario, they seem stunned to meet a Black man who prefers Black women. I think that has to do with the fact that almost every other Black male in the city is into them White bitches. What the fuck? I'm not a sell-out and never will be. My name is Stephen Vincent and I am a Black man of Haitian descent who loves Black women. Black women and only Black women. Pass it on. Peace. 

I moved to Canada's Capital Region from the city of Boston, Massachusetts, a few months ago. Well, almost a year ago actually. Since then I have adjusted to life in the paltry little capital of Canada. Ottawa is boring but I have to make the best of it. I enrolled at Carleton University, though it wasn't easy. I had to apply and register as an international student. Also, I had to pay international fees. I rent a small apartment in the Ottawa suburb of Nepean. I live near Baseline Station so it's convenient for me as far as getting to campus. Hey, I go through all this trouble because I know why I came here. I came to Ottawa because higher education is more affordable in Canada. Oh, and so far nobody is trying to kill me here.

Back in Boston, I pissed off a lot of guys. Irish guys. Mexican guys. Asian guys. Even Black guys. My mouth has a habit of getting me in trouble. Simply put, I refuse to let folks intimidate me. I don't care if you're male or female, Black or white, straight or gay. If you mess with me, I will tell you exactly what I think of you. Don't get in my way. Yeah, these habits of mine pissed off a lot of people. To the point that my parents were worried. They sent me to Ottawa, to stay with my uncle Leonard Vincent and his wife Nancy Marseille Vincent along with their daughters Lily and Joanna Vincent, who are both students at the University of Ottawa. I chose Carleton University because I really didn't want to run into my cousins. They're nice folks but they also annoy me sometimes. 

While living in Ottawa, I experienced a whole new world. Canada is extremely boring, with the exception of the big cities like Toronto, Vancouver and Montreal. Ottawa is a small town that likes to pretend it's big. I don't like it one bit. One thing I do like about Ottawa is the growing African presence in the city. Hundreds of thousands of Black folks from Africa and the Caribbean make their home in the capital city. And we're growing in numbers. Lots of Arabs, Asians and Hispanics live in the city too. Close to thirty percent of all Ottawa residents belong to a visible minority group. Which is an elitist and bigoted Canadian term for person of color. Man, I can't wait to get my Criminology degree from Carleton University and leave Ottawa forever.

There are lots of pretty Black ladies in the city of Ottawa. Lucky for me, some of them seem to like me. How could they not? I'm a six-foot-three, big and tall Black man with rugged good looks. And unlike ninety nine point nine percent of Black men living in the Confederation of Canada, I love Black women. Why do I love Black women? Too many reasons to list here. While I was working as a security guard at the Museum near downtown Ottawa, I got stared at all day by white guys and white chicks who treated me like an alien. Canadians are politely bigoted folks. And I can't stand them. They don't like the fact that lots of people of color are immigrating to Canada annually. And many of them hate us for our diversity and adaptability. 

Simply put, the average person moving to Canada from places like Latin America, the Middle East, Africa or Asia has more ambition than the average Canadian of European descent. You see how hard recent immigrants push themselves as they study at big schools like the University of Ottawa, Carleton University and the University of Toronto along with smaller schools like La Cite Collegiale and Algonquin College. The average Canadian of European descent has an easy life and gets everything handed to him or her. So they lack any real ambition for the most part. Most of them are content just to get by. Unlike us immigrants who like to excel and achieve. The Government of Canada knows how resilient immigrants are and it also knows how lazy and complacent Canadians are. So it creates a racially and culturally biased system to make recent immigrants jump through hoops in order to maintain Canadians domination of their homeland. Can't have a smart guy or gal from Africa, the Middle East or Asia come to Canada, earn a University degree and take jobs meant for Canadians of European descent.

There is a world of opportunity in Canada. I wasn't happy when I first came here. I found the place incredibly boring. I still do. However, I now know it was a good thing that I came here. I want to do my parents proud. My father Etienne Vincent was born in the Republic of Haiti. He moved to the U.S. as a young man, studied at Northeastern University in downtown Boston and later became a sergeant with the Boston Police Department. My mother Elsie Des-Champs studied at Emerson College and now works as a Nurse at Massachusetts General Hospital. I come from good stock. My parents raised me to be proud and strong. They taught me I could accomplish just about anything. I carry that message with me even as I struggle in the Confederation of Canada. I've got a steady job. I go to school. And I have a roof over my head. I'm doing alright, I think. What do you think?

All that is missing is my leading lady. There are so many pretty Black women in the city of Ottawa. They come from all over. Djibouti. Ghana. Brazil. Columbia. The island of Dominica. Jamaica. The Republic of Haiti. The United Kingdom. France. Oh, yeah. I've met gorgeous Black ladies hailing from the diverse communities of the Caribbean, the core of Latin America, the motherland of Continental Africa and even the fast-growing African immigrant communities living in the heart of Europe. So many sexy Black ladies, so little time. I have a deep respect for them. It's not easy being a Black woman in a racist place like the Confederation of Canada. I love the Black woman for her strength and her beauty. I sing her praises. And someday, I'll make her my wife. Black Love rocks forever. Peace.



Black Love in Canada



I just love family reunions. A lot of people say they do but they don't mean it. The name is Guillaume Saint Georges. A tall and slender young Black man of Haitian living in the Confederation of Canada. After graduating from the University of Toronto with a bachelor's degree in Criminology, I moved to Ottawa to attend the local Police College. I'm now an officer with the Ottawa Police Service. I can't stand the city of Ottawa. People down here are narrow-minded, bigoted and honestly kind of dull. And they're not fond of educated and hard-working Black professionals like myself. I guess people like me upset the order of things. To hell with them. I know this world is changing. That's why I'm so happy to be back in Toronto for the family reunion.

While living in Ottawa, I find myself quite lonely. In Canada, everyone is scared of the College-educated and hard-working Black male professional. A lot of 'mainstream Canadians' are lazy and depend on the Canadian Government for everything. Most of them are on some sort of social welfare. The sons and daughters of immigrants from Africa, the Caribbean, Latin America, China and India actually go to University, get their degrees and try to get decent jobs. They put us through hell before and after hiring us so we've got to stick together. I wish minorities living in the Confederation of Canada were as united as the ones living in the United States of America. We all face systemic discrimination at the hands of the Powers That Be. Why not stick together?

A lot of my friends have an issue with me because of my personal preferences. What are my preferences? I'm a Black man who exclusively dates Black women. When my friends and co-workers tried to set me up with White chicks, I simply told them no. I'm not racist. I simply have a preference, pure and simple. I choose to love my own. I love Black women. And they love me. I love all shades and body types among Black ladies. From jet-Black to light brown and everything in between. Tall and short, muscular, skinny or thick. As long as the face is cute and the booty is big. I love all my Black ladies. Most of the Black male professionals in the city of Ottawa mainly or exclusively date White women. And in Ottawa, that's where you'll see the most bigoted White folks in all of Canada. In Toronto, we're cooler and more open-minded. That's because we're more diverse as a population. 

I know it's not politically correct to say it but I've got to be honest with you. I can't stand some of these White broads from Ottawa. A lot of them only want sex when dealing with a Black man and when you see them with a successful Black businessman, you got to know they're gold diggers. You'll see them kissing a Black guy in a nightclub downtown and then make racist jokes with their White female friends at the Mall. And the dumb Black guy who met them at a club thinks they really like him. As if. To them he's just a toy. A sexual thrill ride, nothing more. I say this because I've seen it. I swear to high Heaven. Women always say that men sexually objectify them. Well, in North America, the Black male is always sexually objectified. I can't tell you how many times White chicks and gay White men in Ontario hit on me. And all of them wanted only sex. They wouldn't want to be seen in public with someone like me but want me in their bed. I turned them all down. Thanks but no thanks. You've got to be some shade of brown for me to get with you. Have you ever seen a high-profile White woman with a Black guy who doesn't have money? Do you honestly think guys like NBA legend Charles Barkley, artist Seal and professional golfer Tiger Woods would get chased by these White ladies if they were flat broke? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Folks, I worked hard to get where I am. It wasn't easy attending the University of Toronto while working two jobs. I worked as a security guard and I also worked as a night clerk at a small bookstore. When I finally graduated in December 2007, I was twenty three years old. A Black man with a University degree living in the Confederation of Canada. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Join the Police Service like my beloved father before me. Have a brilliant and adventurous career as a policeman in Ontario. Be an example of a law-abiding, hard-working and educated Black male who found success in Canada. And find a beautiful, educated and hard-working Black woman to marry. I want to share my life, my heart and my hard-earned dough with someone like me. Someone Black. Accept no substitute. 

Today, I am particularly excited about my pending family reunion. You see, there is someone I desperately want my family to meet. Cassandra Saintil is her name. A six-foot-tall, gorgeously dark-skinned, busty, curvy and big-bottomed young Black woman I met at Saint Laurent Mall six months ago. Cassandra is a graduate of the University of Montreal in the Province of Quebec. She works for the Canadian Revenue Service right here in Ottawa. Cassandra moved to Canada from the Republic of Haiti when she was nineteen, attended school here and became a Canadian citizen. Now she's making good money working for the Canadian Government. Is she cool or what?

I have been smitten with Cassandra ever since we met. And I'm glad she likes me. A lot of tall women don't like to date men who are slightly shorter than them. Cassandra didn't have that problem. My lady liked me for me. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, slim, with medium brown skin, curly Black hair and pale gray eyes. My parents are proud Haitian immigrants. My father, Etienne Saint Georges moved to Canada from the Republic of Haiti in the early 1980s. He was one of the first Black Police officers in the Toronto Police Service. They put him through hell with both covert and overt discrimination but he stuck with it. He's now a sergeant. Like me, he's an alumnus of the University of Toronto. He met my mother, Montreal schoolteacher Fabienne Jean while visiting some friends in Gatineau, a small town in the Province of Quebec. My mother is half Haitian and half White, but since she was raised exclusively by her Haitian mother and family, mom speaks fluent French, English and Creole. My mother knows where she comes from.

A beautiful Black woman who knows where she comes from and where she wants to go, that's my mother in a nutshell. They say guys like women who remind them of their mothers. I find that extremely creepy. However, I must say that at least mentally, Cassandra reminded me of my mother. They're both strong, educated and driven women. It's hard being a Black man in North America. It's not easy being a Black woman in the Confederation of Canada either. Canadians are deeply xenophobic and bigoted. Far worse than Americans. The President of the United States of America is a Black man elected by the people. There are Black Governors, Indian Governors and Asian Congressmen in America. You'll never see that in Canada. Trust me on that one. Ordinary Canadians are an uneducated, bigoted lot who fear successful people of color. That's why they make immigrants jump through hoops around here.

Unlike a lot of Black male professionals who chase White women like their lives depended on it, I decided to hold out for the elusive Black goddess. I knew she was out there. A Black woman who would love me for me. Since moving to Ottawa, I joined a sort of unofficial fraternity. One made up of Black men with College or University degrees working in the city. My best friend is a Jamaican guy named Anthony Steward. He's tall, lean and kind of good-looking. At least the ladies seem to think so. He's got an MBA from the University of Ottawa and works for the Norfolk Corporation. He's making eighty nine grand a year after taxes. Executives in the United States make a lot more but this is Canada. People are cheap here, and corporations aren't any different.

My only beef with Anthony Steward is that he has a thing for fat White chicks. Actually, make that uneducated, unsophisticated and dull fat White chicks. Now, I'm not against interracial dating though it's not something I'm into. However, I wish College and University-educated Black men would date women of equal class and educational level regardless of race in the dating game. That's not how it goes. You'll see a good-looking Black lawyer dating a chubby, matronly White woman who works as a waitress and doesn't even have a College or University degree. You'll never see a White female executive dating a Black male cab driver. See the dichotomy? Black men in the Confederation of Canada don't seem to notice that. I guess they're too busy thinking with their dicks and don't think with their brains. Whatever. I'm not that kind of brother. 

My other friend Leonard Saint Paul actually has a good head on his shoulders. He's a tall, kind of chubby and bald-headed young Black man of Haitian and Ethiopian descent. He has an engineering degree from Carleton University and is happily married to a lovely Black woman from South Africa, Kimberly Ntoko. He met his wife Kimberly when they were both freshmen at Carleton University. Kimberly Ntoko has a degree in Accounting and works for a small firm in the town of Kanata, not far from Ottawa. They're in the process of buying a house in the suburb of Orleans and plan on starting a family within a couple of years. See? That is a beautiful thing. Black love, ladies and gentlemen. Pass it on!

I look at Leonard and Kimberly and I see reflections of my Cassandra and me. A Black male professional in a loving relationship with an educated, beautiful Black lady. They're happily married, successful in their careers and in love. That's what I want for my Cassandra and me. We're heading down the aisle soon. First, she must meet my parents, though. Got to get their blessing. No other way around it. We're driving from Ottawa to Toronto. Just in case you don't know, Canada's paltry, bigoted and dismal little capital is quite far from its most diverse and important city. Cassandra and I decided to stop at a Tim Horton's restaurant to grab a bite. The small roadside restaurant was deserted, save for a nerdy-looking white guy at the cash register. We got our coffee and some sandwiches and sat down to eat.

Sitting across from my beloved, I felt quite happy. I simply love my Cassandra. Sitting across from her, enjoying some Tim Horton's restaurant coffee, I loved these simple pleasures. Cassandra winked at me and I smiled. I knew what she wanted, and it wasn't more sandwiches. My lady was feeling frisky. Taking her hand, I went to the men's room. And we got it on. I locked the door behind me and grabbed Cassandra. I sat her on the toilet seat and bent down. Grinning, she kissed me passionately. I felt up her tits underneath her flower-themed summer shirt. I slid my hand between her thighs and noticed that she wasn't wearing any panties. Cool.

I fingered Cassandra's pussy, which was already wet. Cassandra grinned and went straight for my zipper. Out came my dick. Eight inches long, kind of thick and uncut. Cassandra fondled my dick. Quickly she began sucking my dick. What man doesn't enjoy having his dick sucked? I'm not the exception. While sucking my dick, Cassandra fingered my asshole. My woman knows I like having my ass played with. Cassandra surprised the hell out of me by pulling a slim blue dildo out of her handbag. She plugged my ass with it just like that. Wow. My woman never goes anywhere unprepared! 

Cassandra sucked my dick while thrusting her dildo up my ass. Needless to say it got me really hard. When I came, Cassandra sucked every last drop of my cum. I sighed in pleasure. Cassandra grinned and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she told me she still wasn't done with me. She wanted to fuck. I hesitated. I didn't have a condom with me. Cassandra shrugged. I took a deep breath. Both Cassandra and I get tested regularly because we're Government workers. We're monogamous and healthy, so what's the problem? That's what I told myself as she took my member and inserted it inside herself.

I placed Cassandra against the wall and raised her legs in the air as I thrust my cock into her pussy. Cassandra moaned and wrapped her legs around me as I fucked her. She went buck-wild. I buried my face between her large, firm breasts and enjoyed the ride. After letting me pump her like this for a few minutes, Cassandra wanted to try something new. Hiking up her skirt, she got on all fours. Talk about getting down and dirty. Shaking her heart-shaped ass at me, it was pretty clear what she wanted. Some down and dirty booty sex. I'm cool with that. I came up behind her and gave her big booty a big kiss. Then I spread her ass cheeks wide open and slid one finger inside her asshole. It felt warm and tight. A moment later I replaced my finger with my dick. Slowly, I eased it inside Cassandra's ass.

Cassandra moaned as I worked my dick up her ass. This wasn't her first hayride. Far from it. Anal sex is something we both enjoy regularly. I held her hips tightly and began thrusting my dick into her ass. I love fucking her in the ass. Cassandra fingered her pussy while I fucked her in the ass. With deep, powerful thrusts, I fucked my woman in the ass and took her for a wild ride. Cassandra screamed in pleasure mixed with slight pain as I fucked her. Face down and ass up, she took everything I had to give. I love the sight of her big round butt jiggling under the force of my thrusts as I pounded my dick up her ass. I pumped her ass until I came. An explosive orgasm rocked me, and I almost fell backwards. It was that intense. Cassandra screamed like a madwoman as I came inside of her. I pulled out of her and we both slumped on the floor, spent.

Moments later, we both left the Tim Horton's restaurant. The clerk was red-faced but grinned wickedly at us as we exited. I winked at him as Cassandra and I left the not-so empty restaurant and got back into my bright red convertible. There were folks looking at us as we left. Tons of folks, in fact. Cassandra and I smiled at them and waved them goodbye. Doubtless they weren't used to having a sexy couple getting their freak on in the men's washroom. Whatever. That's Canada for you. Pale, stale and boring. Both the majority of the population and the country itself. The only people with zest or simple joie de vivre, are newcomers like Cassandra and me. With a song in my heart, I got back on the highway and we sped toward Toronto. The only city in all of Canada worth visiting. The family's waiting for us and we'd best get going. 



Black Love in Ethiopia



Let's get one thing straight, ladies and gentlemen. I am a serial sodomizer. I love pounding Black male asses. I love to bend a Black guy over, spread his ass cheeks and invade him with my plastic dick. I love to fuck Black men, and I am good at it. My trusty strap-on dildo has been inside one hundred Black men as of today, and I'm just getting warmed up. Nothing I love more than to make a big and strong Black man howl as I fill his ass with my strap-on dildo. I've topped all kinds of Black men in this manner. From the hoodlum guys with their Durag and tattoos to the college students, the businessmen, the church guys and even some gay black dudes and the occasional bisexual Black guys who were curious about pegging. Hey, I take all comers, you know? This Black strap-on diva absolutely does not discriminate!

Silly me, in all the excitement, I almost forgot to introduce myself. My name is Francine Xavier. My friends call me F.X. for short, and I'm a Black woman of Haitian descent living in the City of Calgary, province of Alberta. I was born in the City of Ottawa, province of Ontario, and moved to metropolitan Calgary ten years ago, after graduating from the University of Ottawa with my bachelor's degree in business administration. I am happily single, and have an awesome job working for the Canadian Revenue Agency as an auditor. When I'm not at work, hanging out with my friends or praying in my favorite church, I am out there chasing male booty. Make that Black male booty because men of other races don't do anything for me.

Today, February 18, 2013, I am celebrating my thirty sixth birthday in style. How? By pounding the living daylights out of my latest submissive, a big and tall Ethiopian guy named Michael Berihun. I've got Michael bent over my sofa, face down and ass up, his entire body trembling. My dildo is up his ass, filling him up. Dude hasn't screamed yet. Michael is really something. Standing six-foot-two, lean and muscular, with light brown skin, curly black hair and pale bronze eyes. Like so many people from the Horn of Africa, he's a beautiful blend of African and Arabian. I find men from that part of the world exotic and beautiful. I think Ethiopian and Eritrean guys are among the world's most beautiful Black men. I am into them and lucky for me, they are into me. 

I met Michael while walking around the University of Calgary campus. It's where I got my MBA, a long time ago. When I saw this tall, cute brother with a great build and nice ass walking around the library, I thought he was Somali but after observing him closely and noticing the silver cross hanging around his neck, I knew he had to be either Eritrean or Ethiopian. The Republic of Ethiopia is a mostly Christian country, though Muslims are about twenty percent of the population, I think. As for the Somalis, they're all Muslim, and the few Somali Christians I've seen on YouTube videos are probably in hiding because Islam mandates the death penalty for any Muslim who converts to another religion. Me? I was brought up Catholic and consider myself a nondenominational Christian these days. I wish people would stop making a big deal out of religion in Africa and the Middle East but they're a bit nutty down there so it's their problem, you know? 

One thing that Jews, Christians and Muslims need to remember is that God has no religion. If you want to connect to God, get on your knees and pray. He will hear your prayer and listen to you. Doesn't matter if you do it in a church, synagogue, mosque or in the basement of your apartment building. God is everywhere. All at once. Anyhow, that's my two cents about the issues of religious conflicts going in the parts of the world that have birthed my favorite men. Maybe I should go after some Black Muslim guys with my strap-on dildo next. I'd love to see some tough Muslim dude talking trash about Israel or Western society while I fucked him in the ass. Yeah, that would be the day!

Anyhow, where was I? Silly me, sometimes I get so distracted. Must be getting old, I guess. Before I started reminiscing and getting off-topic, I was telling you about Michael Berihun, the tall and handsome young Ethiopian man whose ass I got to fuck on my thirty-sixth birthday. When we first met in the Calgary University library, Michael was drawn to me. Honestly, I'd be surprised if he wasn't. I'm quite beautiful, if I do say so. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, slim and fit but curvy where it counts. I have dark brown skin, almond-shaped golden brown eyes and long black hair which I keep neatly braided. I get funny looks at the Canadian Revenue Agency because of my "ethnic" hairstyle but I don't give a damn. I am a Black woman and damn proud to be. I wear my hair natural. My braids come down to my shoulders and they're all me, thank you very much.

Michael Berihun and I grabbed coffee that day, and got to know each other a bit. We really connected, and I snared him in my web of seduction. That's why he ended up on my sofa, face down and ass up, with my strap-on dildo in his ass. I whispered into his ear that he was my bitch now. When he didn't answer me, I smacked him upside the head and thrust my strap-on dildo deeper into his ass. That got his attention, and he obediently confirmed aloud that he was my little bitch. We changed positions, and I fucked him as he lay on his back, ass spread and legs in the air. I spanked Michael's ass and he yelped as I filled his ass with my strap-on dildo, pounding him mercilessly. I fucked him until he cried, and made a damn mess on my dildo but it was worth it. I'd just have to wash up afterwards, that's all. It was fun.

After this memorable first session together, Michael Berihun and I became regular fuck buddies. I'm happy to say that this energetic Ethiopian stud is good in the sack. He's got a nice long dick, stamina for days and the will to use both to satisfy this woman's body. He's so good at licking pussy that I told him he must have been a lesbian in a past life. Yeah, he's a lot of fun but to me, nothing beats the rush I get when I bend a Black dude over and stuff him with my strap-on dildo like a Thanksgiving turkey. Gets me all hot and bothered just thinking about it. How about you, dear reader? Are you into this sort of thing? If so the line forms to the right!



Black Love In Modern America



Do black men secretly like black female dominance? Are there black men into cuckolding? How freaky do black women get behind closed doors? Is black male bisexuality a turn-on or a turn-off for self-admitted kinky black women? Those are the questions I am reading on private discussion groups about black sexuality on Facebook, and I can't help but laugh. The name is Vilma Smites, and I'm a thirty-year-old black woman living in the City of Columbus, Ohio. I am a budding dominatrix and all-around kinky sister with a twisted, hot story to share with you.

I met Bernard James Lamont a while back while walking around the mall. This six-foot-tall, somewhat chubby but still handsome black man with the slick goatee caught my attention. I saw him checking out my booty as I tried on some shoes inside the shoe store. Later, when I went to the food court to grab a bite, the brother approached me. I played it cool, to be sure, but I was definitely interested in Bernard. The brother had a lot going on for him. Master's degree in sociology from Ohio State University, and a nice job as a counselor with the Columbus Department of Social Services. I like a brother who's got his shit together.

Now, to be fair, I've been known to play with brothers from the wrong side of the tracks, but they're not the type I bring home to meet my parents. I didn't work my butt off to pay for school and build a decent life for myself just so I could end up with Mr. Thug. Other dumb sisters go after these guys but not me. I have a bachelor's degree in commerce from Cleveland State University and I'm working on an MBA at the University of Akron. Presently, I work as an account manager at the local bank. I'm the five-foot-ten, curvy and classy, well-dressed and gorgeously dark-skinned sister with the thick glasses who greets you with a smile as you approach my office. By appointment only, of course.

Anyhow, when I'm not at school or working at the bank, I lead a life that my friends, family and co-workers can't even fathom of. I discovered the world of BDSM thanks to my ex-boyfriend Matthew Dixon, a tall, fine-looking brother I met during my freshman year at Cleveland State University. Matthew played baseball for Cleveland State University and attended the local black church, so he had his pick of chicks on campus and off. I like a man who's a challenge, that's why I went after Matthew and got him.

As I would discover, Matthew likes to tie bitches up, gag them and fuck them, and that's what he did to me. With my consent, of course. I won't lie, I did enjoy it, but I also discovered something new within myself through those experiences. I like to inflict pain upon others, and it turns me on sexually. Matthew was my first victim, in a manner of victim. I sweet-talked the macho brother into letting me tie him up, and I shoved a butt plug up his ass while sucking his big ole dick. Yeah, Matthew got one hell of a surprise that night. For me, it was confirmation of a long-repressed desire. I like to dominate men in the bedroom, especially black men.

I did my fair share of experimentation. I once did a threesome with Antonio Drago, a tall, sexy Latino dude I met during my senior year at Cleveland State University. Antonio and I met at a gathering for minority students at school. Antonio was one freaky dude and he talked me into doing a three-way with his buddy Marcel Jean, a tall, dark-skinned and bearded brother with dreads who's originally from the Caribbean. I enjoyed sucking Antonio's dick while Marcel ate my pussy. Afterwards, I sucked Marcel's thick Afro-Caribbean dick as Antonio fucked me from behind. The Latino stud pulled my hair and spanked my big black ass as he fucked me, and I loved every minute of it.

The highlight of that evening of passion came when Antonio and Marcel fucked the hell out of me, at the same time. I got on top of Antonio, who crammed his dick in my pussy while Marcel gripped my hips tightly as he worked his dick up my asshole. I had never tried anal sex before, and it was painfully good. Marcel's dick filled my ass, and the island brother fucked me real good. Antonio rammed his dick into my pussy while sucking on my tits. I can't remember a more intense sexual experience than this one, folks. These two studs filled my holes and fucked me silly tilled I begged for mercy, and it was absolutely awesome.

That threesome with Antonio and Marcel opened my eyes to a whole new world, folks. I began hooking up with Antonio's buddy Marcel behind Antonio's back, and when Antonio found out, the Latino dude dumped me. Too bad if you ask me, but I got over it. Marcel introduced me to even freakier shit than Antonio. While Antonio loved to fuck me with a male friend, Marcel pushed things even further. The Caribbean stud introduced me to cuckolding. Simply put, Marcel wanted to watch me get fucked by another man, right in front of him.

I was stunned by this revelation from Marcel, but I was also turned on. Marcel introduced me to his white dude named Barry, who was tall, handsome with reddish brown hair, and happens to have a real big dick. Well, I'm a freaky mama so I had no problem making Marcel's cuckolding fantasy come true. Barry told me he was married to a blonde-haired white chick named Debra, and he enjoyed watching Debra ride Marcel's big black dick. Apparently, Barry and his wife Debra are swingers and Marcel is a regular at their house. Nothing much surprises me at this point so I was cool with that. I sucked Barry's big white cock while Marcel watched us, an unreadable expression on his face.

Barry definitely knows how to sling the dick, let me tell you. The ginger-headed dude put me on all fours, ate my pussy from behind and then fucked me silly. I rode that white dick like a queen, and screamed as Barry fucked me. Marcel watched us, and I teased the hell out of him. Hell, if the Caribbean stud wanted to be cuckolded, he came to the right sister. The things I said to Marcel as I rode Barry surprised even me. Nasty things, folks. Marcel later told me he absolutely loved it. Yeah, Marcel and I had a lot of fun. After our graduation, Marcel moved back to the Caribbean to go work for his people's government and I remained in Ohio.

As you can see, I'm somewhat of a veteran of the sex game. Bernard never knew what hit him. I sensed a great deal of submission underneath the burly brother's polite and refined exterior. That's why I made Bernard kneel before me and lick my pussy, then I fingered his asshole while sucking his dick. Judging by the way Bernard moaned in pleasure as I fingered his ass, the brother was definitely into this sort of thing. The more I fingered Bernard's ass, the harder his thick dick got. Very interesting, to say the least.

Later, I got on all fours, shook my big butt at Bernard and told him to make himself useful. Bernard laughed and gleefully grabbed my ass, kissing my cheeks before he rolled a condom on his dick and slid his manhood into my cunt. Bernard fucked me with gusto, and actually lasted a lot longer than I thought he would. What a nice surprise. That's why I decided to keep him around. I always investigate a man's life before getting serious about him. Bernard is over thirty, good-looking, educated, makes sixty five grand a year after taxes, owns a nice house, and yet he has no wife or brats. What's going on here?

As Bernard and I got more serious, I began spending more and more time at his house. Sometimes, Bernard would spend the weekend at my two-bedroom spot but this was a rather rare occurrence. I was snooping around one evening while Bernard went out to buy a few things, and found some magazines under his bed. Magazines featuring chicks with dicks fucking dudes. Hmmm. I knew it! Bernard is bisexual or at least curious about it. When Bernard came home, I confronted him about his hidden desires. Bernard broke down and confessed that he was curious, but hadn't experimented yet. I smiled at that, and planted a kiss on his lips. 

Bernard and I had a serious talk about things, and I told him that I accepted him for who and what he is. The following month? Bernard took me to a nice Caribbean restaurant in Akron's west end and put a ring on my finger. Now we're engaged. My esteemed parents Louisa and Jacob Smites were surprised when I told them I was now Bernard's fiancée. They'd met him twice before, for brief talks over coffee, that was about it. Me? I'm practical. I like Bernard, and yes I care about him, and we get along fine. The sex is nice, with much room for improvement. 

Please don't look at me like that, folks. I know what I am doing. A lot of sisters out there dream of a knight in shining armor. Me? I'm a realist. In this day and age, Bernard might be as good as it gets. The brother is good-looking, educated, makes good money, and he worships me. So what if he's bisexual? Bernard swore he'd always be faithful to me. I'm going to hold him onto that. Besides, I've always loved the idea being the female meat in a man sandwich, and having a bisexual man as my fiancé increases the odds of such a fantasy coming true.

As I said before, I love to dominate black men in the bedroom, and Bernard loved this about me. I love to tie my boo up in his basement, and I smack his face, squeeze his balls until he begs for mercy, and then have my way with him. Bernard can't get enough of my big black ass and loves it when I sit on his handsome face, smothering him. I like to suck Bernard's dick while shoving a dildo up his ass. Hell, I've bought a strap-on dildo recently and it's been getting a workout thanks to Bernard's sweet ass. I like to bend my man over, smack his cute butt and then fuck him with my strap-on dildo. One of these days, I want to insert my fist up Bernard's ass. The brother's got ready for that yet. His ass is too tight. It's on my to-do list, though.

This December, Bernard is taking me to Cuba for a holiday. I've never left the continental U.S. Hell, I've left Ohio only twice, once to visit my cousin Cecilia as she got married in Miami, Florida, and the second time was during a business trip to Boston, Massachusetts. Bernard is well-traveled and has been to Paris, France, and even Toronto, Canada. I can't wait to go to Cuba. I think I'm falling in love with this kinky, wonderful brother, folks. Got a surprise I'm about to spring on him. Even though I'm a gym bunny, I seem to be gaining weight. A recent trip to the doctor confirmed I was pregnant. Bernard is the only man I've given the booty to these past few months. Guess our lives are about to change. Wish us luck. 



Black Love In Somalia



Looking into Laban Suleiman's eyes, Khadija Osman gently stroked his face, then asked him if he was ready. The big and tall Somali man nodded, and inhaled sharply. With effort, Khadija raised Laban's legs in the air and told him to spread his cheeks. The bed shook as the six-foot-four, burly Black man complied with his diminutive mistress orders. He obeyed her as expected, and she proceeded to apply the cold lubricant all over his anus. Only then did she roll the condom on her strap-on dildo. Next, she lubricated the strap-on dildo itself, for one could never have too much lubricant in these situations. Locking eyes with her sub once more, the sexy Somali dominatrix told him she was going to take his anal cherry. Laban nodded, and Khadija smiled as she pushed the strap-on dildo into his ass... 

Six months ago...Laban Suleiman sat at a computer terminal inside the Algonquin College library. In three months he would graduate with his bachelor's degree in business administration. He'd already gotten acceptance letters from various MBA programs at schools like the University of Ottawa, Carleton University, York University and the University of Toronto. The twenty-three-year-old Somali man sighed, and yawned. So many decisions to make, so little time. Ever since his parents, Omar and Aisha Suleiman along with his sister Amina moved to the City of Calgary, province of Alberta, he'd felt more alone than ever. It wasn't every day that a forty-four-year-old Somali immigrant got a job offer from one of the largest textiles companies in the country. His father would have been a fool not to go. Deep down, Laban understood why his parents and sister moved away. He didn't have to like it, though...

Omar Suleiman came to the province of Ontario, Canada, as a young man fleeing war-torn Somaliland. He worked menial jobs while studying at the University of Ottawa and earned his MBA before working for various companies once he had his Canadian citizenship. While at the University of Ottawa, he met a lovely young Somali woman named Aisha Khaled, and sparks flew. They got married eight months later. They had two sons, Laban and Ishmail, and a daughter, little Amina. Aisha Khaled-Suleiman worked as a nurse at the Ottawa General Hospital, and the family led a decent life. They had a nice house in Nepean, not too far from Baseline Station. Their eldest son Ishmail was the first to leave the nest. He won an academic scholarship to Boston University and moved to the U.S. Laban missed his older brother, but nothing prepared him for the shock of his parents and sister moving to Alberta because of his father's new job. 

Although his parents asked him to come with them, Laban flat out refused. He was close to finishing his studies at Algonquin College in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, and he'd miss his friends and his hometown too much, that was his reasoning. Laban was honestly starting to regret his decision. Now, a lot of young men his age would have felt different in such a situation. He had the family house to himself. The two-story, four-bedroom house in which he and his siblings grew up suddenly felt too big. In his parents absence, Laban rented two of the bedrooms to students he met at Algonquin College. He was a fair landlord, all he expected was to collect his rent money on time. With the rent money, he paid the bills. His scholarship at Algonquin College provided for his studies along with three square meals a day at the campus cafeteria while school was in session, so he didn't have much to worry about. No, the only things that worried Laban Suleiman were boredom and loneliness. 

Laban often communicated with his family members on his cellphone or via Skype. That's how he was introduced to Anisah Abdullah, the gorgeous Lebanese-American woman his older brother Ishmail met at Boston University in Massachusetts. The bronze-skinned, raven-haired beauty was simply breathtaking. Laban could definitely see what his older brother Ishmail saw in her. He could hear the excitement in Ishmail's voice when he spoke about Anisah, the young woman he considered the love of his life. In the land of opportunity, Ishmail found the right woman. Imagine that. In Canada, Laban saw lots of Arab men with Black girlfriends and wives, with Somali women among them, but he rarely saw Arab women with Black men. 

For a Lebanese woman to be with a Somali man, this was unprecedented. He'd never dreamed of such a thing happening. Only in the United States of America, a country with a Black president, could such a union occur. When Laban cautioned him about Anisah's family, Ishmail assured him that Arab American women were far more liberated and westernized than their Canadian counterparts. They did whatever they wanted, just like other American women. Laban had to smile at that. The United States of America did sound like a wonderful country indeed. In Canada, the racist Arabs would never let one of their daughters be with a Black man, that's for sure. A lot of Black Muslims, especially Somalis, looked up to the Arabs and considered them their brothers in Islam. Laban didn't feel the same way. Ever since an Arab guy called him the N-word in a Lebanese restaurant, he avoided these racist pigs like the plague. He'd always been a progressive and open-minded person, and couldn't stand bigots. When Canada held a referendum on gay marriage, Laban Suleiman stunned his family by supporting marriage equality. When they questioned his sexual orientation, he assured them he was straight, he just wasn't bigoted. Muslim men like Laban Suleiman were rare among the Ummah, that's for sure.

Laban Suleiman sighed and got up. He'd been at the computer too long, browsing through Facebook profiles while listening to Good Charlotte music videos on YouTube. It was Friday, and he had nothing to do. He didn't feel like going to mosque. He found the preachers at his parents old masjid to be very narrow-minded in their views of western society, women's rights and human sexuality. That's why he prayed at home. Allah is for everyone, Laban Suleiman was fond of saying to his fellow Muslims. Allah made the black and the white, the Christian, the Jew and the Muslim, the straight and the gay. As Creator of All, only Allah could judge anyone and everyone. Naturally, his progressive views didn't sit right with many Muslims, who considered themselves superior to others and wouldn't budge from their ironclad convictions. Oh, well.

Laban Suleiman walked from the Algonquin College campus to his house on Canter boulevard. He went directly to his room, and went straight to bed. This wasn't right, he told himself. He was in his twenties, and still a virgin. He'd never even had a girlfriend. He was weird wherever he went. To the Black Muslims his own age, he was strange because he listened to "white" music, dressed preppy, and read romance novels. He was kind of private when it came to his religion, and he was painfully shy around strangers. At school, he was brilliant but had few friends. Oh, and he had a dog. A loveable mutt named Marquis. He named the dog after a funny old French guy who was his family's neighbor for many years before he died of colorectal cancer. Laban got up and went to walk his dog. As usual, Marquis was happy, and they took a long walk down Merivale Avenue, one of Ottawa's busiest streets.

While walking through Merivale with Marquis, Laban ran into a vision of beauty. A tall, gorgeous young Black woman in a black leather jacket, red tank top, black leather miniskirt and black leather boots. When he saw her, he gawked, and his abrupt stop caused his dog to bark. As the lady came closer, Laban realized with a start that she looked Somali. Hello, she said, and he waved weakly. Smiling, the Somali-looking young woman asked him if he knew where Algonquin College was. Apparently she was headed to a party there. Laban smiled, and told her he knew exactly where it was. Ever the gentleman, he offered to show her the way. Grinning, she shook his hand and introduced herself as Khadija Osman, a newcomer to Ottawa from the City of Minneapolis, State of Minnesota. Thus Laban Suleiman met the Somali-American diva destined to change his life.

Laban and Khadija talked for a while as they made their way to Algonquin College. Along the way, he learned a bit about her. Khadija was born in the City of Woodbury, Minnesota, and recently transferred to Carleton University in Ottawa from Rasmussen College. She was excited about being in a new place. Laban watched her, fascinated. This gorgeous, scantily clad Somali-American chick was decidedly different from any of the Black Muslim women he'd met in Ottawa. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, he asked her for her phone number as they neared the school. Smiling, she gave it to him. Then she went inside. He could tell by the noise coming from the building and all the cars in the lot that a party was under way. How about that? 

That night, Laban Suleiman went home, and thought about Khadija Osman, the sexy Somali-American chick who took his breath away. He called her the next day, and added her on Facebook. When she invited him to come chill with her and some friends at Oliver's Pub on the Carleton University campus, he happily went, wearing a red silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots. Got to look fly for the ladies, he told himself as he sprayed on some Cologne and left his house. He hopped on the ninety five bus heading downtown, then caught the number four heading to Carleton at Rideau Center. Forty five minutes later, he was at Carleton, asking people where Oliver's Pub was. A bored-looking Hispanic dude was kind enough to point him to the University Center. Laban thanked him, then went to the pub.

Once inside, he looked for Khadija. He had no problem locating her. She sat at a table in the back, near the video game machines, chatting loudly with her friends. Laban approached them cautiously. He counted four chicks and two guys at the table. All of them Black. Khadija spotted him as he approached, and got up to greet him. Instead of nodding politely in the Somali manner, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Laban smiled at that, and she took his arm before introducing him to her friends. Thus Laban met Warsame, Kasim, Samirah, Mona and Atifah. All of them were Somali, but born and raised in the States, not Canada. None of the Somali-American chicks wore hijab, and they were louder and more outgoing than the Somali chicks he grew up with in Canada. He found that refreshing, for some reason.

Khadija's friends were really cool, and he found them friendlier than he thought Americans would be. Indeed, he found them more welcoming than many of the Somalis he knew in Ottawa. They came to Canada from the U.S. to spend a semester at Carleton University, and to experience Canada as Americans of Somali descent. Laban warned them that most Somali Canadians were far more religious and traditional than Somali Americans, and far less tolerant than him, and they laughed, telling them that they already noticed. Sitting with Khadija and her friends, Laban laughed and joked around. He felt...right, for the first time in ages. They ate sandwiches and fries, and drank Pepsi and beer. He had a good time for the first time in forever. When a really cool song came on, Khadija asked him to dance. Laban smiled and took her arm. He didn't really know how to dance, but damn it, he wouldn't pass up a chance to get close to her. 

The two of them danced, and Khadija leaned into his shoulder. As the night ended, her friends went back to their dormitories. Khadija and Laban walked through the Carleton University campus, which she knew fairly well in spite of only having moved in a couple months before. Laban smiled at her as she shared with him details of her life back in the States. He told her how he dreamed of moving there once he was done with his university studies. He always felt out of place among conservative Somalis in Canada. With his liberal mindset, he felt he'd be happier in the States. Khadija laughed at that. He noticed she had a lovely smile and told her. Grinning, Khadija asked him if he was hitting on her. Laban nodded, smiling with more confidence than he would normally feel in such situations. Then he kissed her.

Thus it began between them. Laban's first kiss with his first girlfriend, a gorgeous Somali chick born and raised in America. Khadija changed his life. This wild, outgoing and fearless young Somali-American introduced him to a world of adventure and romance he never dreamed existed. With her by his side, he felt like he could do anything. The night when they finally made love, after coming home from the movies, he would never forget that one until the day he died. Khadija introduced him to other forms of sex he never knew existed. She introduced him to the world of BDSM. The first time she bent him over her knee and spanked his ass, he was hooked. BDSM was definitely something he could get into!

Little by little, Khadija Osman introduced Laban Suleiman to the pleasures of BDSM. She'd gotten into the lifestyle a couple of years before they met, and had become an expert by the time she started dating him. Laban Suleiman was mesmerized by this gorgeous, absolutely amazing young Black Muslim woman. He loved her and told her. Khadija told him she cared for him deeply too, though she felt he wasn't ready for the kind of commitment she required. A lot men, especially Muslim men, couldn't handle all the things she was into. And she long ago vowed she would never give up her passions for a man. Laban promised her that he wasn't like the others. To prove himself to her, he offered her...his everything. That's how Laban Suleiman ended up on his back, his ass in the air, with Khadija working a strap-on dildo into his ass. Laban looked at Khadija, and told her to fuck him in the ass. Grinning mischievously, Khadija grabbed his dick as she thrust her well-lubricated dildo into his ass. This was one for the ages, she thought as she fucked the young Black Muslim man she'd recently fallen for.

Laban looked at Khadija as she fucked him in the ass with her strap-on dildo. Hot damn, she looked absolutely fucking gorgeous while fucking him. He told her as much, and she grinned. Khadija leaned over and planted a kiss on his sweet lips and he wrapped his arms around her. He whispered into her ear that he loved her without reservation, and told her to fuck him HARD. Khadija looked into Laban's eyes, and saw that he meant what he said. At long last she found the Black Muslim man who wasn't too insecure, too traditional and too controlling to love her for who she was, a naturally dominant Black Muslim woman. Laban wasn't one of those fools who hid their insecurities behind religion and tradition. She could be herself around him, in and out of bed. Happily she plowed the dildo into his ass, and his screams of passion mingled with her own. They made love like this for hours, until exhaustion claimed their gorgeous Black bodies.

A few months later, Laban Suleiman and his new lady Khadija Osman flew from Ottawa, Ontario, to Calgary, Alberta. The young Somali-Canadian happily introduced his parents to the young woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The Suleiman parents were surprised, to say the least. Khadija Osman was definitely not a traditional Somali chick, with her short skirts, tight shirts and her absolute hatred of hijabs and burkas. Nevertheless, she was Somali and she made their son happy, so they had to accept her. The pair were married a few months later, then moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Laban Suleiman decided to study at Saint Paul University with his darling wife Khadija Osman-Suleiman by his side. He'd had enough of Ottawa, though Canada would always be dear to his heart. He loved Khadija and wanted to be with her always. With her by his side, he felt strong enough to take on the good old U.S. of A.



Black Love in Today's World



Hello, there. My name is Stefano Bergeron. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the city of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born and raised in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, but moved to Ottawa for school because of the Recession. My father, Boston police sergeant James Bergeron thought I'd be safer in Canada than in America given the volatile social and political climate of the country at the time. Too many White radicals walking around hating on President Barack Obama. Too many hate crimes. And too many racist cops shooting innocent young Black men. Yeah, I think my father had a point when he sent me to Canada. 

When I first came to the Confederation of Canada in November 2009, I lived in the Ottawa suburb of Orleans with my uncle Leonard Bergeron, my father's little brother. He works as a corrections officer in downtown Ottawa. His wife Martha is a very nice lady. She works as a nurse here in town and she's the best aunt ever. I got along okay with my cousins Valentina and Marcia, both of whom attend the University of Ottawa. Yeah, having family in town helped make the transition okay for me for the most part. Folks, I'm not going to lie to you. When I first got to Ottawa, I felt like this place was a prison.

Growing up in racially diverse Boston, I had lots of friends from diverse backgrounds. My buddy Matt is Jewish. We met during my first year at Bay State College. My buddy Carl is Jamaican. And my other friend Hector is Mexican-American. We all hung out together in downtown Boston every Friday night. Just a band of brothers. In Ottawa, people don't act like that. Blacks and Whites along with other races seem to be uneasy around each other, though they're polite enough for the most part. They pretend to like each other but that's just for show. Welcome to Ottawa. A little hypocrisy goes a long way. 

Yeah, I didn't like this city and I didn't hide it. The Canadian government made me wait for everything just because I'm a U.S. citizen. I had to apply for a work permit and wait months to get it. After obtaining my work permit I looked for work but since I wasn't Canadian, most places weren't about to trust a foreigner. Even though I had a clean record both in America and in Canada. As if there is something hidden in Canada that someone from the U.S. would actually want! Never mind. I went to train as a security guard in order to get a job. Afterwards I got my health card and my social insurance card. You need these documents if you're going to live and work in Canada. I began working as a security guard at various locations in the city of Ottawa. And for the most part it was okay, though the pay sucked. 

After a few months working in the city of Ottawa, I decided to look for a decent school. I visited the University of Ottawa, Carleton University, Algonquin College and La Cite Collegiale. They're the four big schools in the city of Ottawa. I chose Carleton University because it's more diverse than most of the others. There are lots of immigrants from continental Africa, Asia, the Middle East and the Caribbean living in the city of Ottawa. I'm told they make up close to thirty percent of the city's one million plus inhabitants. Wow. I didn't think Canada had such diversity in their capital. I thought I'd only see white folks around here. I guess I was kind of wrong. Anyhow, I applied to Carleton University and enrolled in the Criminology program. Why Criminology? I was a Criminal Justice major at Bay State College back in Boston. I decided to continue along the same lines while studying in Canada. 

I don't think I really knew what loneliness was until I came to Canada. In Boston I always had my family and friends. In Ottawa, I wouldn't say I had nobody. I had some family in town but it's not the same thing as being at home. I moved out of my uncle's house in Orleans and rented an apartment in the suburb of Nepean. It's not too far from the Carleton University campus so it suited me just fine. On campus, I made very few friends. There are lots of Black students on campus, though fifty five percent of them seemed to be women. Relations between Black male and Black female students at Carleton University were a bit tense. The Black women were royally pissed off that most Black males on campus chose to date White women. In turn, Black female students were now chasing White guys like their lives depended on it. This is the mad world I walked into. Apparently, Black Canadians had never heard of Black Love. They're all going interracial now!

As a Black man who loves Black women, I found myself quite confused in this place. There were so many beautiful Black women in the city of Ottawa. Black women make up almost sixty percent of the Black population of the city of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. These ladies came from everywhere. The Republic of Haiti. Jamaica. Trinidad. Djibouti. Somaliland. Ghana. Chad. Ethiopia. Congo. Zaire. The Republic of South Africa. Zimbabwe. Nigeria. Wow. I'm a lifelong resident of the first U.S. State to elect a Black man as Governor in modern times yet it's in lily-White Ottawa that I got in touch with my roots. I was fascinated by the Africans. They're so different from my fellow African-Americans in the U.S. I saw them as my long-lost brothers and sisters. I didn't know Jack about the internecine struggles plaguing the Black community of Canada. Kenyans don't like Ghanaians. Somalians don't like Nigerians. Haitians don't like Somalians. And the various groups among the Black Canadians refused to work together. Even though they're collectively under assault from the forces of racism in White Canadian society. What a bright bunch these Black Canadians are!

Nevertheless, I was very much attracted to the Black ladies of Ottawa. From the smooth-haired, slender and shy Somalian ladies to the curvy Jamaican gals, the regal Haitian women and the daring Nigerian gals. I found these Black ladies uniquely beautiful, strong and sexy. Yet I seemed alone in that viewpoint. Every Black man in the city of Ottawa walks around with a chubby White woman. Especially if he just came to Ottawa from continental Africa or the islands of the Caribbean. Almost in revenge, Black women in Ottawa are grabbing the nearest White man...at least, those White men who aren't into Asian women. I rarely see White guys with White women in Ottawa. They're all into Asian women, though a few are into Black women. Black men in Ottawa exclusively chase White women. What the hell is going on here? 

Black women in Ottawa claim to want a good Black man but they seemed to have given up on us. They think we've all been brainwashed into chasing White women. Man, I'm not like those Black guys. I'm a good Black man who loves Black women. If you were to check out my computer history, you'd only see Black porn on it. Never White pornographic content. I'm addicted to the works of Black female porn stars like Janet Jacme, Pinky, Angela Assets, Lola Lane, Skyy Black, Africa Allen, Cherokee D'Ass, Vida Valentine, Vanessa Blue, Sierra, Kim Eternity, Angel Eyes and many others. I love all-Black videos featuring big-booty Black ladies getting drilled by well-hung Black studs. No White chicks for me. I hope that's okay with you. I love Black women. Love everything about them. I just hope I can find one to love me, before I die. Unfortunately, the Black ladies I meet never seem to go for me.

I suffer from Nice Guy Syndrome, folks. I'm six-foot-three, big and tall and kind of imposing, but I also have thick nerdy glasses. I go to Star Trek conventions. I own a Wookie costume from my last Star Wars convention. I'm really into science and computers. By the way, I suck at sports. I can't play basketball or football. I suck at soccer. Interestingly, I am a pretty good swimmer. A fact that surprises a lot of people, both Black and White. My father used to take me to the beach in Cape Cod every summer. It's where he met my dear mother Arianna Joseph Bergeron, God rest her soul. She died giving birth to me, so I never knew her. I wonder if being motherless is what made me so awkward around women, especially Black women. 

Suffice to say, I'm not exactly a player in the dating game. Black women always tell me that I'm too nice and too friendly. And they always tell me that I try too hard. I'm a nice guy. Is there anything wrong with that? If you ask me, the world could use more nice Black men. Too many of us are seen as roughnecks. Anyhow, my being a nice guy is the reason I didn't get laid until I was twenty. Three years later, I've been with about four different women. I had to change my game otherwise the Bergeron family line was going extinct. I decided to switch things up a bit in Canada. I wore a durag and bought a Black leather jacket. I also left my glasses at home. I couldn't wear contacts. They make my eyes itch. With my new "bad boy" look, I went out in the city. I was a security guard and University student by day and a wannabe-roughneck by night. My bad boy act didn't fool anyone. Black women saw right through it. And I went back to square one. Sexless in the city. Damn. 

Then I met her. Who is she? The chick who changes everything. Rania is friendly, and very nice and easygoing. I lucked out when I met her, folks. We were at a bus stop in downtown Ottawa. It was raining and she offered me her umbrella. I wasn't used to such kindness from strangers. I haven't been able to forget her. Actually, the first time I met her, I remembered everything she said except her name. Okay, I remembered that she was from the City of Toronto, had recently moved to Ottawa and worked in Foreign Relations. I forgot her name, but looked for her online and couldn't find her. The second time I ran into her on the bus I actually got the name. But I forgot to ask for her number. I guess she made me nervous. The third time I ran into her at Rideau Centre, I saw her with a White guy. My heart sank. Just my luck. Every Black woman I like is usually into thugs, dating White guys, dating other women, or sometimes all of the above at the same time. Welcome to my life. I turned to walk away, hoping Rania hadn't seen me. She had. And she walked right up to me. Rania was just coming from work and she was having a bite with her gay Irish friend Neil. How quaint! 

Well, she asked me to have dinner with them and I accepted. We grabbed a bite in the Food Court. And I learned quite a bit about Rania. For starters, her last name was Stephenson. This gorgeous young Black professional woman of Jamaican descent was a graduate of the University of Toronto. And she was single and looking. Her friend Neil echoed that sentiment. I smiled at them both. Man, I was glad to hear that. This time, Rania gave me her number. And I memorized it with every fiber of my being. When I went home that night, I added her as a friend on Facebook. Then I mustered the courage to ask her out. I took her to the movie Machete. It features macho man Danny Trejo, a Hispanic actor I've always admired. As it turns out, Rania was a fan of Mr. Trejo too and she was glad to see him in a lead role. We enjoyed the movie and grabbed a bite afterwards. I had a blast with Rania. And that's how it all began.

Folks, I am happy to say that Rania and I are definitely a couple. I'm happier than I've ever been in years. I swear that these days, the sky seems bluer and the air sweeter. I'm fascinated by her. A gorgeous, educated and ambitious young Black woman who still believes in the Black Love. She told me that although she was a feminist at heart and a real go-getter, she still believed in Prince Charming. Well, if she wants a chocolate-flavoured Prince Charming, I'm her man! Rania told me that she had been around the dating block. She'd been with Black guys, Asian guys, White guys and Hispanic guys, dating across racial lines in an effort to find love. She discovered that she liked Black guys most of all, though they also brought her a lot of heartache. Her last Black boyfriend, a notary public named Clinton Travis, forgot to tell her he had three sons by two different women, one Black and one White. The last White guy she dated, a corporate accountant named Larry O'Sanders, failed to stand up for her honour when his racist mother and sister called Rania the N-word during a heated argument. Rania looked very sad when she recalled that episode. The sight of this sad look on her pretty face melted my heart. I took her chin in my hand and in an uncharacteristically bold move, I kissed her. 

This was our first kiss, folks. I think I'm in love with Rania. My gorgeous Jamaican goddess from the city of Toronto. So sexy, smart, driven and ambitious. She's one of the top consultants at the office of foreign relations in the city of Ottawa. They're offering her assignments overseas and she's fielding job offers from public and private companies all over Canada and America as well. I'm entering my fourth year in Carleton University's Criminology program. I always thought I would go back to Boston when I graduate from Carleton University. I want to become a police officer like my father before me. However, I can always do that later. I'm in my twenties, healthy and educated. If Rania goes overseas for work, I think I'll go with her. At least for a while. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm an ambitious guy. I'm not a doormat. But I think true love is worth putting your ambitions on hold for. I know it's not a guy thing to say that my life without Rania would be empty. I'm just prioritizing. We're going to Boston soon. I want to introduce her to my Dad. She's already met ( and charmed) my family members in Orleans. I want to make our relationship work. My lady means everything to me. 



Black Love Is All They Wanted



This is a story of black on white, lesbianism, and black love between consensual adults.




I wasn't prepared for the attack when it came, why? Because I expected it to come from someone else that's why. My husband Mick works for a firm of lawyers and he's a bit of a favourite with the boss.

This had come about because he had taken on a case when all the supposed top dogs looked the other way. It was a certain loss they all said. But the firm had been backed into a corner by the powers that be and had to represent this well known criminal. Mick had fought the case to a standstill and by majority vote, 10 to 2, he had been acquitted by a very unhappy judge, and even unhappier police.

The powers that be recognised Mick's fight and while they didn't like the result, and vowed to get their man one day. They congratulated my husband. And now he was in the boss's eye for the future, unfortunately I was also in his eye; he had made it very plain too.

He is Derek Joiner a very affable black man who through fair means or foul bought the firm he was now the sole owner of. He and his very strong minded wife run a tight but very fair ship, it's a criminal d3efence business, and is highly regarded despite winning some high profile cases against the authorities. The people, who though they work hard, very hard, are well rewarded.

Mr Joiner held get to know you meetings with all the staff, right down to the cleaners and tea ladies, they all loved him at the off. He interviewed everyone formally and informally. Those that were married were asked to bring along their spouses too at one get together.

This was where I got the distinct impression he liked what he saw when he appraised me, even my husband said, "I think you made an impression there Jenny." Yes, I thought, but maybe for the wrong reasons. I/we met with him on the odd occasions, and then an office sort of dinner dance was held at an hotel one night. I of course made myself look as good as I know I can, and swung the night away on Mick's arm. 

I danced with some others, but then Derek asked me, He wheeled me around the dance floor, he was a fantastic dancer and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, the three dances we had ended with a slowish one. He held my left hand, his right curling around my waist. And I could feel the unmistakable bulge pressing into me, the wine and exciting night had got me going, so resisting the feel of another mans cock against my pussy was exhilarating to say the least.

He knew what he was doing, I knew what he was doing, and he held me tight to it, my small attempts to press away were futile. To be honest, if the music hadn't ended I would have had a climax right there on the dance floor. I was wild eyed, I knew it, my face was flush and I could feel it. He was bushy tailed for sure, as he released me, he said.

"Later Jenny" and he walked me back, there was no mistaking what the, later, meant!

His wife who is a looker in her own right was sat with Mick, I felt a pang of jealousy, but I had just been on the dance floor with her husband, and his thick cock pressed into me, and loved it, a black cock at that! Connie is about 5ft 8" tall, about 3" taller than me. Her hair is silky black, her complexion is flawless, hardly any make up was needed, and she had a figure to die for.

As I have said, I am Jenny Scott, married for three years, 26 years old, long blond/blue. I am very good looking, even if I do say so myself, I love sex, want all I can get and then some. But we can't always have what we want can we?

Mick and I have talked in bed in the past about sex with others, we have never done anything about it, and probably never will, or should I say wouldn't. But he has thrown in the odd comment about a well hung black man, which I found quite exciting when he started telling me an imaginary tale about me and one of them. Then came that fateful night at Derek's house at a dinner party, we were the only guests. 

Mick knew it was important to him, he told me it could very well be about his future, it was, and mine too as it turned out. I dressed for the occasion in a black silk gown that came to my ankles but flowed like waves around my feet, and a split right up to my thigh, my ample cleavage was on full view but discreetly so. I wore no panties or bra; I wanted the sleekness of the dress to enhance the sleekness of my toned body. I had my hair up, a silver chain running through it. I knew whatever I wore would not be out done by Connie, no chance!

But I had to admit she did look as good as I did, she wore a white silk gown similar to mine, showing off her beautiful smooth chocolate cream skin, and her cleavage too left nothing to the imagination. I saw Mick's eyes pop when he saw her. Her hair was piled up in huge seemingly loose curls, and she looked terrific.

They had a service maid to serve dinner, a chef in the kitchen and our hosts were wonderful. Derek let me know how beautiful and desirable I was. I was flattered immensely but played coy with it. His subtle attention to me was weakening my resolve against him.

The table in the expansive dining room was about 5ft long and about 3ft wide. When we sat to eat, the men took the ends, and Connie and I sat opposite each other, I was relieved in a way because it meant he wouldn't be able to play silly buggers with me under the table.

We had a wonderful sea food starter, then the main course, it had steak at the centre but it was aromatic, herbs, spices and it assailed your senses, it was fabulous, and the wine was exotic.

We were about half way through when I felt a foot slide up my inner calf. I immediately glanced at Mick who was just forking some food into his mouth and listening to Derek speaking.

I looked at Derek and he was intent on my husband. But of course they both were wearing shoes anyway. Then I looked at Connie and could tell straight away it was her foot, the twinkle in her eye told me so. I just sat there as the foot made it way up my leg, past my knee and up between my thighs. I sat there absolutely transfixed; it finished at my pussy and her toes pressing right into me.

There was no way I could prevent her foot sliding between my thighs except for standing up, and I couldn't think of a plausible reason without giving her game away. I glared at her, saying with my eyes, "take your foot away please?" Her answer was obvious; she pressed and wiggled them into deeper contact. I tried to move but couldn't without drawing attention to myself.

"Please," I mouthed. Her smile told me, "uh uh." She assaulted me under the table; I was already feeling sexy because of where we were, who we were with, and the food and wine.

The sideways attack on me that I was expecting from Derek had come from his alluring wife, and it had caught me completely by surprise. I had been prepared to rebuff his advances when they came with panache and charm. But this had been the last thing I would have expected to happen, and because of it, my defences were down around my ankles!

I literally lost control, I sat there as the toes worked me up, my clit got it, and somehow the toes got past my pussy lips in delved in, now I had bare flesh boning bare flesh. A toe was right on my little receptive button, and its antennae were up to its highest, 'receiving loud and clear' was its message. I half remember my head bowing as an orgasm slowly rippled through me. I pleaded silently for her to stop, but she knew what she was doing, so she didn't.

As the tightening of my pussy muscles gripped me in its power, I gave out a soft grunt as a hard one hit me; my knees were clamped shut over the intruding foot, but still allowing it to continue the raiding of my life. Then my knees parted and I was open for business. I dropped my knife; I looked at Mick, thinking he was bound to know I had just cum on the foot of his boss's wife.

Connie pulled her foot away from me thank the lord, then said.

"Jenny, you look a bit peaky, are you alright?" I grunted some sort of an answer. Then she rose and told me.

"Come with me, let me take care of you," her voice dripping with concern. She sped round the table, helped me to my feet and hurried me off. I tried to say I was okay, both men stood as I left. I heard Mick say.

"Call me if you need me Jenny."

Connie took me into her bedroom en suite; as soon as we were in she locked the door, spun me around and got me up against the wall.

"Right," she said, "lets finish what we've started shall we?" My dress was hiked up to my waist, her shoulder holding me against the wall, her dark gold bejewelled fingers slipped into my pussy and hit the button.

Her teeth lightly but savagely gripped my neck, and in seconds I was mewling softly as she brought another orgasm from me. She continued to ravage my clit, I was helpless against her. I have had two relationships with other women, but nothing like this had ever passed my way.

If she hadn't been holding me up I would have fallen to the floor, there was nothing I could have done to withstand my submission that night to the dark beauty that was almost killing me, while my husband and his boss were downstairs chatting and having fun of their own.

She withdrew her fingers, and then I was sucking my own love juices from them, her lips found mine, and I was being kissed into further submission, I loved the feel of those dark cool lips taking mine. She let go of me then, saying.

"Come on Jenny, they'll be waiting for us, but I want you here on Monday at 10 o'clock, okay, don't be late, and wear a short skirt and your lovely blond hair down please, I want to see those legs of yours." 

I managed to get back to looking like I though I did, and back we went, as I got there I took a deep breath, smiled gaily as we went in, kissed Mick's cheek and sat back down.

"Are you okay Jenny, I was worried there for a moment?"

"I couldn't be better," I told him, as I looked at Connie, and her foot slid up my leg again.

I fucked Mick's brains out that night, twice, and then again in the morning. Come Monday morning I was like a school child going to a kids party. I had thought of little else but Connie, the way she had got me, the orgasms she had made me have, the feel of those terrific lips eating mine. I was prepared for anything and looking forward to it so much. I didn't regard myself as heading off to be unfaithful; this was with another woman wasn't it?

When I arrived the first thing that she did was, take me in her arms, spin me then bend me over backwards and kiss me, if this had been a strong man and a woman it would have been the most natural thing in the world, but it was a woman taking another woman, me!

I ate my first black pussy on the mat in her hallway that morning, I never made it to the sofa or her bed, it was right there on the floor with her kneeling over me, knees over my arms, pinning me down, her hands holding my hair and my face pressed tight up into the glorious shaven heaven that she was.

It made me cum all of its own accord, being subjected to her was the most wayward thing I had ever done, or being made to do in my life. Staring up intently at the black goddess above as she claimed me for her own that day. And her nectar pouring down over my face and into my mouth was awe inspiring.

When she had finished with me, she helped me to my feet, took me into her sitting room and stripped me naked. As I stood there timidly, waiting to see what she was going to do with and to me. She yanked me over her knee and gave me what can only be described as a good old fashioned walloping. I howled of course but never tried to escape, it excited me to be in the power of this beautiful black woman, it was so erotic and exotic.

Connie stopped after a while and taking me by the hand she led me upstairs.

"Oh goody," I thought, "we're going to bed." I had no thoughts of what was about to happen. Connie undressed and I saw for the first time someone who could challenge me in the body and beauty stakes.

She forced me onto the bed where we both took up the challenge, I was a learner at this, her technique was thrilling, she had me squealing and begging as her fingers found me every where, including my ass. I had multiple orgasms as she sucked me dry, licked me clean, and wallow in her presence.

"Stay there," she told me, "lie still and rest for a minute, I'll be back in a moment." I did just that, I turned on to my side, then lay flat on my stomach, fingers in my pussy, and the others stroking a nipple. I love playing with myself this way.

I felt the bed move and started to turn over; her hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I felt something nudge my leg.

"It's a strap on!" I thought, "oh my god what is she going to do to me?" Weight was applied, she felt heavy, leaning right over me I felt the first tentative push as she nudged it towards my soaking slick pussy. Then it was sliding in, all the way in, it felt big, it spread me, my feet slid far apart giving it all the access it needed, her arms slipped under my shoulders, her teeth nipped my neck. I was up on my elbows now, ready and waiting. Then first huge thrust nearly cut me in two.

I bent my head as it crushed the life out of me, it felt alive, it was hot, and it was hard.

"Oh Connie," I gasped and looked over my shoulder. I looked right into Derek's eyes, my husbands boss was on me, and now deep inside of me. I had been tricked, but also captured, what can a girl who is hot, bothered, bewildered, and sexually aroused and already past the point of no return, do?

I had an immediate climax as he thundered home his supremacy, I cried out for Mick for some reason, but I didn't want him to save me. I wanted to be routed, ravaged, beaten and fucked, and nothing else would ever do, not now. Derek completed his task with great style and unforgiving pounding, without compromise, he thrashed into me, non stop, hard hitting every time he bottomed out in me.

He pushed my hair up and bit the back of my neck under the hairline.

"Please Derek," I begged, "don't mark me, Mick might see it."

"I'm marking you so you will know who you belong to now, Connie and I." he told me. I made no further protest. Derek fucked me like no other man ever has, and probably never will again, he had the stamina of a horse, and as I was finding out, a prick to match. I endured a severe and savage fucking that day. I revelled in it.

Connie reappeared as I was struggling to open my eyes from the savagery of his mounting of me. She told him to turn me on to my back, he did so and re-entered me from on top. It was like having a different prick back in me, I submitted to him. I wrapped my arms and legs around his dark body and gave in! As he gently pounded me, I peered down my body to see his dark chocolate prick taking me again and again.

The contrast to our bodies was mind boggling, this was what Mick and I had talked about, but never intended for it to happen, well I hadn't anyway. And now here I was filled to my eye balls with fabulous black prick. And I was beneath a fabulous black man, full of power and strength, and inner strength.

Connie applied herself to me now, my nipples, her lips on mine, fingers caressing my clit as Derek's black pole slid in and out. Then the climax to it all, she got a finger into my ass, this caused me to tighten my bowels, thus tightening my pussy muscles to his what seemed to me like his even bigger black grenade launcher. 

He grunted loudly, his hips crashed into mine and held place, the heat from his prick frightened me, then he was surging his thick creamy hot and steaming cum right into me. I died right there, the orgasm that gave me totalled me completely. I had never in my life cum as long and as hard as that. It was so immense it scared me, as well as giving me and my body the utmost of pleasures a woman can feel.

When I sort of came to, Derek was looking down at me on one side and Connie the other.

"Feeling okay baby?" she asked me.

"Oh Connie, I can't, I don't, how, I'm lost for words Connie?" I mumbled.

"It's okay Jenny, it's always the same when a real woman of natural, sensual and sexual beauty like you gets blacked for the first time. Seducing you the way I did was Derek's idea, he thought it would work better that way, and it did didn't it?" I could only nod my head in complete agreement.

"But he did say that he thought seducing you himself would be successful, especially after the way he teased you at the dinner dance, he felt you were up for black cock given the right moment, was he right too Jenny?" She asked me. I thought about that for a moment and again I had to agree, he was right. I again nodded my head.

"We have known it for years haven't we darling?" she said, and looked at Derek. Derek smiled and nodded his head at me. "There are woman on this planet," she said, "who are made for black men, black women, and black cock, especially young married ones, and you my blond and beautiful Jenny are one of them, do you understand me Jenny?" More nodding of my head, she, and they, were right, I was.

I hadn't known it, or I don't think I knew it, Mick and I had talked about it and I had got quite excited about being 'blacked' but that's as far as we had gone. Well now, I had gone all the way, been taken all the way. And it had been the thrill, the ride of my life, the helter skelter I had ridden on terminated on his beautiful black prick. To show my enthusiasm I dove at it and sucked and licked it clean.

They spent an age on me, I was putty, I had more cums than I could shake a stick at, and at the end of the day. I was told they were available to me at any time, all it would take was a phone call and they would be ready, maybe not always together, but one of them would be free for me. They didn't order me to do anything, just call, that's all I had to do.

I went home a very happy, contented and satisfied wife, my husband would never know of this I told myself. I was now a blacked blond beautiful housewife. I wondered how many of us were around. I found myself trying to guess when I looked at other women which ones would be, already, possible, probable's, and maybe's.

What they had been planning was put into operation, it was to get me and Mick to where they wanted and planned for us to be. They had filmed everything, not for blackmail, but for enticement and encouragement.

Mick was called in to see Derek on the following Monday morning. He was offered the position of office manager, sounds worthless but it gave him power over everything, what he said would go, end of! He was at the end of the interview with Derek and Connie, she gave him a DVD and told to go and watch it in the locked private dining room.

He put it in and what he saw rocked his world big time. The DVD showed Connie with me, it actually showed me entering the house, being kissed by Connie, then on the floor in the hallway under her knees and eating her, then in the room being thoroughly spanked, and up in the bed room and all that entailed there. It didn't show Derek ram raiding me into sublime submission.

He went back to them, he was ashen they said, he asked them quietly if Connie had drugged her in any way. No they had told her, Connie had seduced her willingly, first at the dinner at their house, and then there as in the film. Jenny was totally aware of everything that happened and loved every second of it. Your wife is bisexual Mick they told him. As a rejoinder, they said offhandedly, "she loves black Mick."

This comment never registered, he came home with the DVD, never said anything to me, just told me to sit, watch and make no comment. I sat there and watched, knowing I would soon be getting banged good and hard by Derek, I was hot and steamy watching Connie do the things she did to me, I had the thrill of an orgasm as I looked at it.




Black Love Is All They Wanted



"Well?" was all he said. I looked down at my hands, wondering what was going to happen.

"I'm so sorry Mick, I don't know what came over me, please forgive me?" The next thing he was ripping my clothes off me along with his own, and he fucked me right on top of the carpet in our sitting room. I have never known him so hard and excited, he ripped into me. I loved every second, it had turned him on!

After he had shot his load, he dragged me upstairs, slapped me, fucked me again, and told me. "The next time you do that," he roared, "you had better make sure I'm there or else!" He warned me.

"I will Mick, I swear I will," I sang the words. He approved of his beautiful blond sexy wife being taken by the equally beautiful black goddess. Who was, as it happened, the wife of his boss, and employer? Then the thought of him rodding Jenny his wife popped into his head, his prick hardened and thickened even more, Mick shot a very wonderful and excitingly painful stream of cum into his wife.

Later Jenny asked him if he was okay.

"Yes I am honey, but still a bit shocked." He told her.

"Shocked that I seem to be bisexual, or shocked because it was Connie?"

"Bit of both really, do you love her?" I could hear the worry in his voice.

"No Mick, I love you, and I will only ever love you I promise." This seemed to make him happier.

I wondered whether to mention Derek but thought better of it, he had already had a big enough surprise for one day. I decided to let things pan out on their own accord. I called Connie the next day and discussed it all with her, she told me she would handle things and not to worry, I believed her totally.

The following weekend we were invited again, but this time for the weekend. I didn't know what to expect but I knew something would happen some way or another. I told Mick we were scheduled for 7pm Friday night for dinner. It all went as normal as it could have, Connie made no move on me and neither did Derek. Mick was on tenterhooks wondering himself.

On the Saturday morning we wall went for a stroll after breakfast, Connie got me on my own and coached me as to what was going to happen, hopefully, she said, what I had to do and how to behave. I rehearsed it all in my head until we returned. I was pretty sure I could carry it off.

We had a sort of afternoon nap. I asked Mick if he was happy being in so close a proximity to Connie, knowing what ha happened. He answered that, yes he was. I mentioned to him in an oblique way, that Connie had mentioned to me that fact that Derek was attracted to me too.

His answer kind of surprised me.

"Yes Jenny I know," he said, "it's obvious, and to be honest, I think that if opportunity presented itself, you might be the same too." I protested my innocence, and said that it was Connie who had got my interest in her and in black piqued.

We rejoined the others at about four that afternoon, we were all sat on the veranda in the afternoon sun when the phone rang. Connie answered it, and immediately became animated. Something was wrong, "say nothing, keep quiet, wait until we get there," we all heard her say.

Connie sat down and turned to Mick. "Our best client has just been arrested and is in custody, he wants us there right now Mick, we have to go." Mick looked at me, then Derek, and lastly at Connie, "what, right now?" But he already knew the answer.

"Yes Mick, right now, come on," she said, she hurried off and came back stuffing papers and notes into a briefcase, grabbed Mick's arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Derek, look after Jenny until we get back!" Connie told him sternly.

"Yes alright Connie, don't worry, I will." Connie dragged Mick out and away.

"We'll be back in an hour or two," she told him.

When we were alone, Derek smiled at me, "alone Jenny, you and me, and Connie has told me to take care of you?"

"Yes Derek she has, so you had better do just that." I told him smiling.

In the hallway she threw the briefcase into a cupboard watched by a confused Mick, she grabbed him, pressed herself up against him whispering.

"Mick I can't wait any longer, I lied in there about your client. I need you Mick, I need to make love with you, please don't deny me?" Mick for his part was astonished but also immediately erect, he had secretly lusted after her since viewing the DVD of her and Jenny.

He put his arms around her and a hot kiss ensued, it was so hot it burned them. It also confirmed what Connie already knew; he wanted her and wanted her badly. She also knew with admiration that he would never have pursued her. 

Connie pulled Mick into their home cinema, where they had three large arm chairs on each side, and three larger four seater sofas down the centre.

"Mick, you know Jenny and I have a thing for each other don't you?" she asked him.

"Yes I do Connie, but what is going on?" he asked her. Connie silenced his questions with another mind numbing kiss and also rubbing his fully hard prick.

She swiftly pulled open his pants, tore out his prick, lifted her skirt and mounted him. She kissed him hard and long as she kneeled over him, knees either side of him trapping him in a glorious snare, she rode him. Soon he could take no more from the dark wondrous beauty that was ravaging him beyond his senses. Mick came in a thunderous upward thrust into her that almost threw her over the back of the sofa. Connie joined him in a tearing climax that she hadn't had for a long time.

When they had settled a little and in between more loving and hot wet kisses the wondrous beauty held his face in her hands, and told him that she had wanted this from the very first day she had met him, and that she had seduced Jenny to get to him. But she told him there was more for him to understand about her, him, Derek and more to the point, his beautiful blond wife Jenny. 

"Pray listen to me," she said, "do you believe that Derek could or can seduce Jenny too Mick. I know your views on Jenny and black, she has told me. I am the living proof right here in your lap you beautiful man. Can you aspire to her and your unanswered questions? You know her needs, you know your desires, are you, can you accept it?"

Be fore he could answer her, Connie pressed some buttons on the arm of the back sofa, patted the seat beside her, and said to him, "Sit down Mick, lets see shall we?" He sat next to her somewhat bewildered. The huge 90" screen flickered to life and it showed the room they had just left. Connie also leaned in close and held his prick in her soft warm hands, Mick shivered at her touch, I liked this, he thought, I like I a lot!

Jenny was still sat on the sofa, and then Derek sat next to her, he could see him talking to her, she wouldn't look at him, there was no sound. After several minutes where it was obvious that he was entering her mind somewhat, he placed a hand on her knee. Jenny gently brushed it off, but her movement was a little weak Mick thought.

Derek talked some more, then again replaced his hand, gently caressing her knee. Mick watched transfixed as Jenny didn't move it away. She seemed to be following its circular swish around her shapely knee. Then she stood up, saying something to him, she stepped away from the sofa, Derek quickly followed her. As he approached her, she turned away from him; he put his hands on her bare shoulders and rubbed them.

Mick saw his wife's head dip a little, Derek was talking gently to her, was he using soft words to disarm her? He wondered. Then he bent his head and kissed her swan like neck, Mick saw his wife physically shiver, but again she stepped away. Was she fighting a losing battle, he thought. Derek went with her, his hands caressing her upper arms, he kissed her neck again. Mick saw her head drop backwards on to his shoulder before straightening once more.

Derek kissed her again, Jenny's head shook from side to side slowly, he kept kissing it, then the other side, Jenny's head moved so he had all access to her soft sensuous neck. Derek's hands disappeared from view, but he saw Jenny's whole body stiffen, he had cupped her breasts! 

Once more she moved away but only one step, he was right behind her, his mouth now locked on to her tender receptive neck. Mick knew he had her cupped breasts in his hands, and he also knew that once he got her nipples in his fingers Jenny would give in.

He couldn't hear what Jenny was saying but he could guess, her mouth uttered the words for him.

"Please Derek don't, you mustn't, oh Derek no. I'm married, please, oh!" And that was the instant she capitulated, because Derek got her stiff super sensitive nipples in his fingers. Derek was encouraging her, telling her good she was doing, "this is for Mick don't forget," he reminded her, "he wants to see you with a black man, me!"

Jenny sagged against her seducer, Connie was ramming Mick's stiff again cock up and down, keeping him in line, and on heat. His breathing was getting heavy and ragged as he watched his beautiful blond wife give in to her black seducer. Then her lovely her head laid back in submission on his shoulder.

He looked around for some reason, then kissing Jenny properly for what Mick thought was the first time, he lowered her to the big thick fleecy rug placed in the centre of the floor. He reached out and took a large cushion from a sofa and placed it under his now helpless wife's head. Caressing her body, his hands running freely around her, down to her thighs, where her knees parted and shut as if some unseen hand was working them, then up to her proud breasts, squeezing her nipples, kissing her neck, her mouth. 

Mick could see the dark destroyer of his wife tonguing her, her own arms went up in the final sinking of her mind and senses and wrapped them around his neck; they came together in a proper lovers kiss. Derek began removing her dress, it was a simple task made easier as Jenny moved with it. Her thong was unceremoniously torn away bringing an obvious gasp from Jenny. 

He had her naked on the floor under him, he shook his own garments off and Mick saw for the first time the black weapon that was about to take his wife's pussy and mind. Mick somehow looked down to see Connie, head bowed in his lap, her hot mouth holding his fully erect prick as she sucked him hard and rubbed his balls lovingly.

He knew that even if he wanted to stop this there was no way he could have removed Connie from his own rampant prick, it was just as rampant as the one he now saw splitting Jenny in half. He saw her eyes widen then close, he was in her! Derek began a slow but concise fucking of Jenny now, whispering to her. 

"That's it Jenny, you can go for it now," but his words went unheeded, they weren't needed, Jenny was going for it.

"Oh Derek please yes baby, fuck me, make me cum for you, for Mick, for Connie, but most of all, for me!"

Mick watched in a sort of fascinated but wondrous horror as his boss began to pound his wife. He always knew when Jenny came and he saw her cum many times before he finished with her. Derek's flashing weapon was like lightening as his buttocks clenched and fired in salvo after salvo of punishing cock. He could see Jenny screaming out orgasms as his black prick took her all the way to heaven.

She was like a rag doll hanging onto him, and refusing to let him go, she wanted all he had to give her, everything was on the menu for her now. Derek was looking down at the blond beauty under him, he was having the time of his life knowing he was fucking another mans wife, and also knowing the wife's husband was watching him give her the routting to end all routings.

Mick saw him stiffen suddenly, it was time, this was the ultimate sacrifice he was making for Jenny, not only was he allowing her to be fucked by a black man, but allowing him to fill her with his cum. Derek fired in his cum laden balls and swamped her with it, it hit the top of her womb, her cervix, everything, then it was forced out of her by his final thrust. Mick saw it shoot out under the pressure. He sat there thunderstruck by what he had just seen.

Connie mounted him again and rode him once more with her love and sexual power. Mick watched over her shoulder as Derek slowly dismounted his wife, take her in his arms and kiss her like he was her only lover. Then his own eyes closed as Connie brought him off under her, she was the consummate lover and Mick was no problem to her. She rejoiced in the fact that she knew now that she could have Jenny and Mick wherever she wanted.

And Derek would now also have Jenny too, with the absolute consent of her loving husband. What neither Mick nor Jenny knew was that Derek and Connie were a part of a very elite wife swapping club. The difference being that they were all black and they only dealt in white couples. Derek was looking forward to introducing them to it. Once they had got over today's shock and surprise, they would be good to go, of that he was sure.

Connie got Mick down on the sofa, he had to be loved, reassured that his life as he knew it wasn't over, just changed a little. That they had no intention of trying to control them, that they would always remain man and wife as long as they both desired to. And Connie told Mick, much to his relief in a way, that she would always be there for him whenever he wanted or needed to unload, her door would always be open to him, secretly or otherwise.

Neither Mick nor Jenny saw each other until the following day. Mick had the best night of his life with Connie, he couldn't get enough of the chocolate dark beauty, she entranced him, enthralled him, and loved him mercilessly. She held nothing back, and in another part of the house Derek was subjecting Jenny to the same passions. Neither paid many more than fleeting moments to the other.

And both reached a goal that Jenny had always denied Mick, early on the Sunday morning he penetrated Jenny's ass, she squealed and objected, but only a little, she accepted Derek's absolute dominance. And she had blazing hot climaxes as he screwed her rear end. Jenny actually forced herself up onto her knees and railed at him to fuck her.

"Fuck me Derek, fuck my ass you beautiful black bastard." Her soft blond hair was whipping around as he pummelled her. "Oh God yes Derek, don't stop, fill me with your cum, do it!" He did so, he filled her to the top, Jenny felt a satisfaction hitherto unknown to her. 

She loved Mick with all her heart and always would, but she knew she had been totally mastered, not only by Derek, but by Connie too. Meanwhile Mick was up to his balls in Connie's fabulous rounded, tight, and smooth as silk black ass too. This was his first time, he had always wanted to try it, and it had been Connie who got him going to do it. 

She did it simply by teasing him, waving her ass in front of his face as she sat on him, asking.

"How do you like that big boy, want to fuck it do you, Hmmm? Yes I thought so Mick, so stop pretending and get on with it. I want that beautiful white prick you have right there, all the way in me baby, okay?" And he did, it was the most satisfying fuck of his life, the feel of his prick gliding in and out of her ass as he looked down at himself doing her.

When he shot his load it nearly broke him in half, such was the pressure applied by her ass muscles on him, but the hurt and pain was more than taken up in the glorious cum he had in her. After a lot of resting intermingled with a lot of loving, they rose put on matching robes, and went down stairs. Jenny and Derek had just arrived, they too had matching robes. 

Mick and Jenny were embarrassed as they kissed each others cheeks, both wanting to embrace the other, but a little afraid to. A silence descended, Connie took charge, she understood the couple's reticence, and said.

"Derek, come with me please we have things to do, can you two make breakfast, and everything is in the fridge. We'll be back in about thirty minutes." Before Mick or Jenny could reply, they were gone. Mick and Jenny immediately fell into each others arms, both apologising fervently to the other.

Mick stopped it by saying. "Jenny, I have to admit this to you, I hope you'll forgive me and still love me. I will love you forever, nothing will ever change that." Jenny started to answer him but he stopped her. "Yesterday and last night, watching you and then being with Connie was the most fantastic thrill I have ever had, and I loved it, seeing you, seeing me, seeing us, please forgive me Jenny, I'm so sorry." Then he burst into tears of sadness and regret.

Jenny cried with him, then she told him of how she felt too. "I'm the same Mick; I will never love any other man in my life but you. But I have to say that I loved everything too. Can we, shall we do it again sometime, that's if they'll have us?" Mick grasped Jenny and the kiss between them sealed their love, both knew nothing would ever break it, but they knew their lives were changed now forever.

Several weeks later after lots of meeting between them all, singularly or a four, Derek told them of their club. It was world wide and populated solely by wealthy black couples who wanted only to meet white ones, some were rich and famous, film stars and celebrities. Both had to be good looking or better, and the wife had to be blond.

Mick was asked who he would like to meet if it were possible, to spend time with in a mutual situation. Jenny gave the answer with a smirk and a twinkle in her gorgeous eyes that made Connie wet herself, it was immediate.

"J Lo, and, or, Halle Berry." She told them, they looked at each other and smiled. 

"Because we want you on board, and you are both exemplary in character, we are going to go whole hog on this." They had in fact discussed this moment previously and decided that if they could meet his or Jenny's request, then they would. "We can accommodate one of them Mick, Jenny would you be happy to spend time with the husband? All travel and expenses first class to Hollywood will be a part of the package."

Jenny asked who it was, but they weren't prepared to release names for now, how ever a photo of the husband was shown to her, she was satisfied.

"Okay I'll do it, for you, but most of all for Mick. And do you know what, I don't fear it either."

Two weeks later the flew to Hollywood, there they were met by J Lo herself; they were taken to her football size mansion where Mick and Jenny lived the high life for a week. They left with a definite promise of future hook ups, and further introductions to her friends, and other famous personality's. One of whom had Jenny begging for. He was a world famous black film star with a brat son, and had already chatted with Jenny after seeing a brief DVD showing her off.



Black Love Is Epic



The first time I introduced my parents to my girlfriend and future fiancée Edith "Miss Thing" Banderas, they were surprised, to say the least. There was the whole thing about her color, for starters. She's Black. By the way, I'm Black too, but until I met Edith, I have never dated a Black woman. How we met is certainly a tale for the ages, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Gabriel Berihun, and I'm a young Ethiopian-American living in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. My parents, Michael Berihun and Valerie Dabir Berihun, moved to New England from their hometown of Asella in Central Ethiopia. I was born at Boston's very own Mass General Hospital on February 5, 1988. My whole life, I've been accused of not being Black enough, whatever that means. 

Sometimes, I wonder what that means. Black enough. I'm six-foot-one, lean and athletic, with light brown skin, curly black hair and pale green eyes. I'm often asked whether I am mixed and I always tell people that I consider myself one hundred percent Black, thank you very much. A lot of the African-American guys and gals I knew growing up would tell me that I acted white, and I was offended by that. Just because a brother isn't into rap or acting thuggish doesn't mean he's white-washed. Of course, people believe what they want to believe, and the fact I lived in a mostly white neighborhood and attended a mostly white school didn't help. If those brats who challenged my blackness only knew that I wasn't just black, I was of direct African descent. I wonder if it would have changed their opinion of me.

I've always been proud of the fact that my parents are authentic Africans. My father was born in the town of Addis Ababa, the Ethiopian capital, to a Lebanese mother, Amina Abdullah, and Ethiopian father, Bilal Berihun. He's mixed, not me. As for my mother, she's half black and half white, born to an Italian father , Gaetano Tartaglia, and an Ethiopian mother, Abrihet Dabir. Yeah, I've got Ethiopian, Lebanese and Italian in my family, which probably explains what I look like. Growing up in Boston, I tried my best to immerse myself in the metropolis vibrant culture. I graduated from Boston Latin Academy in 2006, and won an academic scholarship to Northeastern University. My father wanted me to go Boston University, his alma mater, but I liked Northeastern University better. It's more diverse and more my style. 

Every summer for ever since I could remember, my parents sent my older sister Annabelle and I to stay with our paternal grandparents, Grandpa Bilal and Grandma Amina. I loved spending the summer in Ethiopia, and I learned to speak multiple languages as a result. I am fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, Lebanese Arabic along with Amharic and Oromo, the main languages spoken in the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia. Not bad for a brat raised in Boston's South End, huh? I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood. My parents came to the United States of America to pursue higher education and success, and by anyone's estimate, they succeeded. My dad is an immigration attorney who earned his J.D. from Boston University's Law School and my mother works as a nurse at the same hospital where I was born. Still, even though we lived in a nice neighborhood surrounded by Italians and Irishmen, my parents made sure I never forgot where I came from.

When I was in high school, I dated this tall, beautiful redhead with piercing blue eyes, Deborah "Debbie the Red One" O'Shea. The daughter of our widower neighbor, Boston Police sergeant Sean Patrick O'Shea. I've got a thing for redheads, I guess. Growing up I had posters of Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Nicole Kidman and Ashley Greene. I think it had something to do with the fact that there are so many redheads in Boston. The only place in the Western hemisphere where they're more common is probably Ireland itself. Deborah and I had known each other our whole lives and our parents knew each other as well. The tall, athletic tomboy with the killer rack and nicely rounded booty excited me to no end. We got into all kinds of mischief together in high school. I still remember how we got caught making out in the washroom during a basketball game between our high school and a visiting team from nearby Brockton. Deborah is the gal I would lose my virginity to during the summer of 2006, after we graduated from high school.

Debbie and I loved each other and I thought we were going to be together forever. However, while I was lucky enough to win a full academic scholarship to Northeastern University, one of Boston's top schools, she lacked the funds to go to a big school and ended up going to Bridgewater State University, which is about an hour away from downtown Boston. Well, an hour if you drive slow. On my Yamaha motorcycle, I can make it in thirty five to forty five minutes. Debbie and I continued dating as we began our freshman year at our respective schools. Sometimes, I'd visit her at Bridgewater State University. She turned me into a Bridgewater State University football and wrestling fan, especially after Northeastern University's football team got terminated due to lack of funding and the dreaded politics of Title IX. Personally, I think Title IX needs revision. In the old days, women lacked the sporting opportunities that men had at the college and university level. Today, when women outnumber men in higher education institutions, Title IX is really unfair and targets men's college sports teams. That rule is gender biased against men in today's higher education universe. Don't tell that to the feminists who control the lawmakers, though. They think everything is fine just the way it is.

During our first Christmas after college began, Debbie dropped a bomb on me. She met a guy at Bridgewater State University and he was all that and the proverbial bag of chips. Some Irish stud from the football team. And she was dumping me for him. Wow. I did not see that one coming, ladies and gentlemen. Especially since Debbie and I had sex the night before she dropped that bomb on me. I mean, she called me over to her place, after making sure her dad was gone. He was at some police seminar in Connecticut and wouldn't be back for three days. Just like the old days, I snuck into the house, and Debbie met me in the basement. My favorite redhead greeted me wearing a bathrobe and nothing underneath. There she was, a vision of beauty. Five-foot-nine, slim and sexy ( but curvy where it counted) with her short red hair, big tits, round ass and bright eyes. She gestured for me to come to her and I did. We kissed, and she stroked my cock through my pants.

Off came my pants, and Debbie led me to the bed, where we did our thing. She sucked my dick, and I fingered her pussy while licking her tits. Then I put on a condom and she climbed on top of me. I hung on for dear life as she straddled me, then rode me hard. How I loved the feel of her tight pussy around my dick. Hot damn. After making love for hours, we lay in each other's arms. Just like old times. I had my lady in my arms, and I felt like all was right with the world. A day later, she broke up with me to be with Trevor Wilkinson, football player and campus ladies man. Chicks really know how to tear a guy's heart out, don't they? After Debbie ditched me, I was morose for a while. I decided to focus on school instead of other stuff. I tried to put her out of my mind. The problem is that I've known her my whole life. What she did to me was incredible. I couldn't get over her that easily.

I went on a string of dates ( and occasional one-night-stands) with girls who could have been clones of her. Tall, slim redheads with blue or green eyes. I went out with an Asian chick named Samantha Lee a couple of times but we had no chemistry. I drifted through life like a ghost. I had lost the woman I loved, and she did not want me back. In fact, Debbie blocked me on Facebook for good measure. Isn't that awesome? My parents often asked me if I was alright and I told them I was fine. But who was I kidding? I wasn't fine. I joined the Christian Youth Alliance at school because I thought faith might get me through this. My parents attended the Ethiopian Evangelical Church of Boston, a place they loved, but I always felt out of place there. I've always felt awkward around other people of African descent. I like country music and I am on the Men's Ice Hockey team at Northeastern University. Do I sound like any Black man you've ever met? I'm different, and Black people, especially Black girls, constantly remind me of it. In high school, before Debbie, I asked out a Black chick named Natasha and she laughed at me, calling me an Oreo. As in I was Black on the outside and white on the inside. I told her to fuck off and focused on the white girls instead. When I began dating Debbie, Natasha and her friends would roll their eyes as we walked through the hallways together, hand in hand. Oh, well. 

One night, out of the blue, my life changed. I was walking through Dorchester, one of the rougher areas of Boston, doing some Christian outreach work for the campus group. That's when I walked in on something incredible. A skinny Hispanic guy , a Chinese-looking guy and a burly Black guy had a chubby white guy pressed against a wall, and he was bleeding from getting hit by their fists. They hadn't seen me. The Hispanic guy took out a knife and stuck the white guy with it, and he moaned in pain before slumping to the ground, dead. A gasp escaped my lips, and the three killers whirled around, spotting me. I ran. They chased me. I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood, and they would have found me and killed me for sure if someone hadn't intervened. A short, skinny Black chick wearing a bandana darted out of the darkness and held her finger to her lips before gesturing for me to follow her.

I hesitated, but with my pursuers right around the corner, what did I have to lose by following her? I followed her and she led me into this building that must have been some kind of warehouse back in the day. We climbed up the stairs and she finally led me to a backroom where we hid in the darkness. I couldn't see anything but I could hear people shouting angrily outside, just like I could hear footsteps echoing in the building. I don't know for how long I lay there on a dirty floor, with trash strewn about, next to a young woman I didn't know. I must have swooned at some point because when I came to, I felt some stinging slaps on my face. The young black woman from before was staring at me, telling me to wake the fuck up. I caught her hand as she got ready to smack me again.

I looked at her and asked her who she was. She scowled, and told me she didn't want to know me. Then she looked around and told me we had better leave. I nodded, and made my way down. When I checked my watch, it was three in the morning. It was around eleven last night when I finished my outreach work in Dorchester and got ready to take the Redline Train at Ashmont Station in Dorchester to go home. Damn. I spent the whole night in this dump! I looked at my savior and thanked her, then told her we had to go to the police. I couldn't shake the image of that white dude getting stabbed like that. The young woman looked at me like I had two heads and laughed. I stared at her. What was so funny? My savior, nameless though she may be at that point, was around five-foot-six, slim, with charcoal skin, long dreadlocked hair, and a slightly angular but very pretty face. Though slim, she had big tits and curves in the right places. I bet she had a wonderful ass. It's weird the things a man's mind notices in the weirdest of situations. She grinned and looked me up and down before spitting out the words "rich dude". Then she told me I could do whatever I wanted, before turning on her heel.

I caught her arm as she turned to leave, wanting to reason with her. Surely she realized what we had to do. A murder was committed, and we had a duty to go to the police. The young woman whirled around and was on me in an instant. She yanked her arm from me, and told me that if I grabbed her again, she'd get my balls. I held my hands up, and told her I meant her no harm. Then I showed her my driver's licence and Northeastern University student ID card. She looked at me and laughed, telling me that I didn't look like a Gabriel. I scowled. What's that supposed to mean? The young woman grinned and told me all the Gabriel types she knew were Hispanic guys. Then she asked me if I was mixed. I took a deep breath, and told her I was a pure Black man from Ethiopia. When I said the word Ethiopia, something in her demeanor changed. Wow, she said. 

I nodded, and extended my hand. After a brief hesitation she shook it, and told me her name was Edith, but everyone called her Miss Thing. I smiled at that. Can't imagine why anyone would call her that. When I asked her why she helped me, she shrugged and said it was no big deal. I thanked her again, and she nodded. When I brought up the idea of going to the police again, she grew cold and told me that my stupidity would get me killed. What was she talking about? Edith shook her head, and told me that these guys were part of a local gang that was fighting the gentrification of Dorchester by rich white folks. Or Black yuppies. She said that last word with disgust, and I realized that she meant me. Was I a Black yuppie? I'm not rich. My parents work for a living. I'm from a nice neighborhood and go to a good school that's all.

Edith seemed most eager to get the hell out of the warehouse, a sentiment that I shared. We made our way down, and once outside, she said adios. I watched her go. The short black chick seemed to vanish before my eyes. I went to the Ashmont Train Station and waited for the next ride. I swiped my MBTA card at the machine and got on. I watched the stops go by. Fields Corner. JFK/UMass. I'm not getting off until near the end of the line. Charles MGH. I live in the area. When I got home, I thought I'd sneak into my bedroom but found my pops waiting. Yes, I still live at home and even though I'm a grown-ass man, as they say, my folks don't want me coming home too late. I just went to my dad and hugged him. The six-foot-four, slightly balding and light-skinned, middle-aged black man who taught me how to be a good man hugged me back. Then I sat him down and told him about how my night went. Your mom's going to flip, was all that said after I told him about the murder I witnessed, the chase, and my narrow escape thanks to Edith.

I went to bed and slept peacefully. I told myself that my dad would take care of everything just like he normally did. I didn't know the maelstrom of trouble my whole family would find itself in because of me. The next morning, dad and I went to the Boston Police Station downtown, and we talked to detective Joanna Garrett, a tall redhead in her early forties. After listening to my story, they told us they'd arrange for us to have police protection at our house. They wanted me to stay home. The reason why they wanted me somewhere they could monitor me? The three gangsters I had seen weren't just fighting the gentrification coming their way. There were powerful forces at work which I didn't know about. People hiding in the shadows, people with money and power, pulling everyone's strings. The kind of people who could make people disappear. My dad assured the detective that we'd fully cooperate. A police car would be parked outside our house tonight. Damn, this is serious. I knew what I had to do. I had to warn Edith.

First I looked her up on Facebook, but there were five hundred Ediths in the Boston area alone, and many more across New England. Damn. What's a guy to do? I mulled over the risks of going back to Dorchester. The way I figured it, I owed her. First, though, I had to make sure nobody would recognize me. So I put on a black hoodie and sunglasses, and put a big silver crucifix around my neck. I ought to be able to blend in around Dorchester. It's still mostly African-Americans and Puerto Ricans in the area. Off I went on my latest adventure. I walked all over Dorchester, asking people if they knew a short black chick named Edith. Nobody knew anything. Nada. Damn. I finally gave up and walked toward MacDonald's, thinking I could grab a bite before going home. I told myself the cops would find the three killers based on the descriptions I gave to the police sketch artist. They recovered the old white dude's body early this morning. It was an official police investigation now.

As I walked in, I noticed that Dorchester's MacDonald's restaurant was packed with people. I stood in line, with my stomach grumbling. I finally made it to the front, and my jaw dropped. One of the girls working behind the counter was Edith! Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she asked me what I was doing in her neck of the woods. I told her I was looking for her, and that the case was bigger than I thought. Edith groaned and asked her co-worker, a tall Hispanic guy named Pedro, to cover for her. Then she grabbed me by the arm and led me outside. Once away from prying eyes and ears, she let me have it. How dare I come to her place of work? How did I know how to find her? I told her what I had done. Edith shook her head, and worry crept into her face. Not for the first time I noticed how beautiful she was. We had bigger worries at the moment, though. 

Edith and I were arguing in the parking lot when three familiar silhouettes seemingly materialized nearby. Instantly I recognized them, and they seemed to recognize me in spite of my 'foolproof' disguise. It's them, I told Edith. She cursed as I grabbed her arm and ran. We ran through Dorchester, and the three bozos from the night before pursued us. Edith and I ran through the streets, into alleys and hid in corners. We hid behind a huge garbage can, safe for the moment. Edith seemed a bit rattled, and I worried about her. She whispered that she thought we should split, but I told her that she couldn't go home. Seriously, they didn't know they'd find me at the MacDonald's, they had come for her. They knew who she was. A frightened look crept into her beautiful face. I gently squeezed her hand and told her everything would be alright. She batted my hand away, saying that she should never have gotten involved in this mess. I had to make her see reason. We had to go to the only place where they couldn't get at us. I had a police detail waiting for me at my house.

Your place? Edith said, hesitation in her voice. My parents house, I said. We slowly made our way to the Ashmont Train Station, and got on. Edith sat opposite me, doubtless still rattled by the thought of our pursuers knowing where she worked and probably where she lived. I told her not to worry, and she told me to go to Hell. I rolled my eyes. Attitude, I thought. She's got one, alright. Edith grabbed her phone and dialed someone. When I asked her who she was calling, she told me she had to warn her aunt Gabby to stay away from the crib. She couldn't find her aunt but left a message on the phone warning her that she was in trouble and should go stay with someone for a couple of days. Worry shone through Edith as she hung up. I came and sat next to her, feeling a bit guilty. It was my fault that she was implicated in this mess. If she hadn't helped me, she wouldn't be in trouble. Of course, I'd be dead for sure if she hadn't led me to safety last night.

Edith locked eyes with me and asked me how many cops there were at my house. I told her I had no idea. She rolled her eyes and told me she felt like smacking me for being so goddamn naïve. I laughed, and told her I could see right through her façade. Edith narrowed her dark, shiny eyes at me. I hesitated due to the intense look she shot me, but continued anyway. I told her that all would be fine if she calmed down and we kept our wits about ourselves. The police were looking for the three thugs. Soon they'd find them. We'd testify against them and send them to prison for life. Simple. Edith shook her head and told me I had seen one too many Law & Order episodes. I laughed and told her I was a CSI man. She laughed and told me Grissom was awesome. I grinned. Amen to that!




Black Love Is Epic



We grinned, and the rest of the train ride went smoothly. We got off at Charles MGH and made our way to my parents neat little duplex in the South End. This is where you live, Edith said, marveling at the beautiful houses filling up both sides of my street. I nodded with pride, and opened the door. You should have seen the look on my parents faces as I walked in with Edith, both of us looking disheveled from tonight's fun chase through the streets of Dorchester. There was a tall, bald-headed and bespectacled white man with them whom I didn't recognize. He tensed when he saw me. My dad introduced him as detective Jeff Basil of the Boston Police Department. Detective Basil looked at Edith and I, and told me he had several officers looking for me. They went to Northeastern and couldn't find me. They also combed Copley Mall, my favorite hangout, and the Boston Public Library downtown as well. When they couldn't find me, they feared the worst.

My mother came to me and hugged me, and I tenderly hugged this tall, regal woman who gave me life. Edith cleared her throat, and I suddenly remembered her. I introduced her to my mom, and my dad. Mom glared at Edith who returned her stare. What can I say? My mom never likes the girls I bring home. Detective Basil looked at us, and scratched his head. I told him that Edith was a witness as well, and the three killers from last night were after her too. Edith and detective Basil looked at each other. A look passed between them. The detective took out his phone and in a clipped voice, asked about the security detail that was supposed to already be at the house. Then he joined us in the living room, and we all had a nice long chat.

Two more police officers came, a short Hispanic woman in her thirties, and a tall Black man. For some reason their presence did nothing to make me feel secure. A cop car got sent to Edith's house to pick up her aunt and bring her to a safe house until things quieted down. My parents haggled with detective Basil, and my father went on and on about needing a security detail as he went to work and my mother kept going on and on about when things would return to normal. In the midst of all this, nobody noticed as Edith and I slipped away. I gave her a tour of the house. I felt a strange calm as I showed Edith my old trophies from my hockey days. To my immense surprise, she was into winter sports too. Grinning, Edith told me she was into ice skating. I smiled and told her I never would have guessed. Edith shrugged and told me she was full of surprises. We just stood there, grinning while talking about our mutual love of winter sports, temporarily forgetting that there was police in my house because there were people out there trying to kill us.

Edith and I sat in my pops library, talking and trying not to think about the weird turn our lives had taken. Edith got up and walked around the library, checking the pictures on the walls. Pictures of my dad and I at a hockey team. Debbie and I on our first date at Copley Mall. Edith held that picture in her hand and shot me a teasing look. Then she asked me if I liked vanilla that much. When she held Debbie's picture in her hand, my heart sank. It had been a while since I last saw Debbie. Doubtless she was happy with her new man at Bridgewater State University, having a blast while my life turned into a bloody mess. And now my life was in danger due to my bad luck. Great. Edith poked me in the ribs and told me to fess up. There's a story there, she said. I looked into her eyes. Fuck it, I thought. Then I told her.

Edith listened to my spiel as I told her about Debbie and I, our long romance, and its tragic and unexpected ending. She broke my heart. When I finished, I was trembling. You can't imagine how many times I went over the whole thing in my head, wondering if I could have done anything different. Debbie was my first love. Could I have been a better boyfriend? Would she still be with me if I had done something different? So many questions. No answers. Edith gently touched my arm, and told me that Debbie was probably cheating on me with that Trevor guy a good while before she dumped me. A gasp escaped my lips. I really hadn't thought of that. Suddenly Edith was closer to me, and she slowly, gently and tentatively hugged my trembling body. And that's when I let go, of all the pain I had been holding inside. Edith held me in her arms, and told me that someday, I'd find someone better. Assuming we made it through this whole guns-and-murders thing. You know what? I sincerely believed her.

Edith and I held each other like this for a long time. Without realizing it, we fell asleep on the couch inside my father's library/study. When I woke up, Edith was still asleep. Someone had thrown a blanket over our sleeping forms. Who? Probably my dad. I showed Edith the guest room where she'd be staying, and handed her a towel and toothbrush. We always shower before breakfast in the Berihun household. Later, Edith joined my parents and I for breakfast, clad in one of my old Celtics sweatshirts and sweatpants I hadn't worn since high school. As we sat down for breakfast, I saw that Detective Basil was nowhere to be found, but I noticed a car parked outside. Had to be the police officers assigned to watch over our house. Cool. 

Mom greeted Edith and I with her polite but chilly smile that I knew all too well. Before I could help myself to the omelette and bacon she prepared, mommy dearest launched into interrogation mode. So, Edith, mom said, tell us about yourself. Edith smiled politely and introduced herself as Edith Banderas. She was studying Criminal Justice at Bunker Hill Community College and worked part-time in the fast food industry. Oh, and she was a Scorpio, she added with a wry grin. I shrugged and told Edith that I was an Aquarius. Edith grinned and said my astrological sign explained a lot about me, including my penchant for getting into trouble. Dad and I smiled. Touché. Mom did not seem amused. My dad smiled at Edith and told her he once studied Criminal Justice as an undergrad at Boston University before going to Law school. Edith high-fived my dad and told him going to Law school was her dream. 

Edith and I had known each other for a little over twenty four hours, and under strange circumstances at that, but honestly, I found her a lot cooler and more real than the chicks I usually dealt with at Northeastern University. She was feisty, fearless and lively. Nice ass too. The gal's got a ghetto booty on her. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We finished breakfast, then heard a knock at the door. It was Detective Basil, and he had some good news. The three goons had been arrested. A thrill went through me. I'm free, I thought. Edith piped right up, asking whether or not she could go home. The detective said we should all stay put for the time being, and he wanted Edith to come to the police station with him to make a deposition. Our goons needed to be positively identified, and right away. Edith laid her hand on mine, and we nodded at each other. Let's do this, I thought. 

We went to the police station, and positively identified Luis Cabrera, Tyrone Peterson and Timothy Chang as the killers of Jonathan Hawthorne, Cambridge realtor who had been buying up real estate in Dorchester from poor minorities and selling it to yuppies. With the suspects identified and in custody, a trial date was set. Until the trial, we would all be under police protection. I didn't want to be away from Edith, though. I insisted on going with her when she went to meet her aunt Gabby, a short, dark-skinned woman from Barbados who raised her after her parents, Lionel and Edwina Banderas died in an accident shortly after emigrating to the U.S. from the Caribbean. Wow, Edith was an orphan. I didn't know that. She joyfully hugged her aunt Gabby, then poked me in the ribs as I gently shook the old lady's hand. Edith introduced me as Gabriel, the fool she saved from perdition. I tried to jokingly poke her in the ribs to protest but she moved at the last minute and I, um, poked her in the butt instead. Edith whirled around and smiled at me. I smiled hesitantly. She wasn't mad? Cool. 

Edith and I testified at the trial, which resonated throughout the state of Massachusetts. The issue of gentrification was a big one, and even Governor Deval Patrick weighed in. In the end, the three killers were convicted, and they even revealed who their boss was, a wealthy white guy named John Stamford, realtor extraordinaire and a business rival of Jonathan Hawthorne, the man they killed. Stamford's goons got twenty years in prison a piece for the murder, but he got sentenced to life in prison since he was the hit maker. Every hit man works for someone...After testifying, Edith and I walked out of the Suffolk County Courthouse, smiling like a couple of clowns. 

As we made our way out of the courthouse, tons upon tons of reporters crowded us. I'm still not used to having so many people shoving mikes in my face, though it happened several times since the trial began. They kept shouting question after question. Edith and made our way through them. As we tried to get to the sidewalk, someone made their way toward us through the throngs of reporters. A very familiar silhouette stepped in front of us. My heart skipped a beat when I saw who it was. Deborah O'Shea. Debbie. She just went up to me and hugged me, and I froze. Next to me, Edith stood silent. What was she doing here? Debbie smiled that million-dollar smile of hers and told me that she heard about the murder trial and was concerned for me. Oh, and by the way, she was no longer with Trevor the football player, she told me as a side note.

Gently but firmly I pried her arms from me, and shook my head. I looked at Edith, who eyed me with a reserved look on her dark, beautiful face. I took her hand in mine and kissed it, then I told Debbie I had to go but hey, have a nice life. Edith smiled. Debbie looked from her to me, then stood there with her hands on her hips. Since when do you like Black girls? She asked me with something approaching indignation. That's when Edith threw her arms around me and kissed me. She flashed Debbie a triumphant look, Debbie scoffed. I smiled at Edith and she smiled at me. She gave my ass a squeeze, and I almost jerked in surprise. As we made our way to the car, she patted the growing bulge in my crotch and told me that she was going to fuck my brains out and show me what Black pussy was all about as soon as we got home. I smiled at that. I can't wait to find out! 



Black Love Never Dies



Older women occasionally like to get freaky too, ladies and gentlemen. Just because a woman is of a certain age doesn't mean that her sex drive and her need for romance and fun are gone. She must do her thing. Otherwise, she might as well be dead, you know? My name is Diane Hawthorne, and I'm fifty two years old. I stand five eleven inches tall, kind of curvy, with Black hair streaked with some gray, light brown skin and pale green eyes. I am biracial. My father Dirk Hawthorne was White and my mother Francine Jean-Paul was Black, originally from the Caribbean island of Haiti. In my time, I have been many things. I am a graduate of the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, a banker and a former substitute teacher. I moved to the City of Kanata, Province of Ontario, from my hometown of Amherst, Massachusetts, in the summer of 1990. I presently work for the Royal Bank of Canada in downtown Ottawa. 

It's been more than twenty years since I came to Ontario and I still love Canada. I married a French Canadian trucker named Joel Moustache ( yes, that's his actual name) and we have a son, Joey, who's a freshman at Howard University in Washington D.C. and a daughter, Annabelle, who's a freshman at Ottawa University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I am a Canadian citizen now but have always maintained ties to the U.S. I voted for Barack Obama in the 2008 election because I still have my U.S. citizenship. It's a pain filing two tax returns every year but it's worth it, I think. Price of dual citizenship. I don't know who I'll vote for this coming election because former Massachusetts Governor and Republican strongman Mitt Romney is a fellow New Englander and I agree with him on many things. I am also of the Mormon faith.

Just between you and me, I wish U.S. President Barack Obama would stop playing nice with the Arab radicals in countries like Afghanistan, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Iran who clearly want to destroy the United States of America, Canada, Europe and the rest of Western society. Sometimes I think President Obama's too sympathetic to such backwards people who hate democracy and religious freedom and utterly dismiss women's rights as a puerile idea. I have seen what they do to women and religious minorities in predominantly Muslim countries. These guys are bad news. As a woman and a believer in equality, I am pissed at such notions. Why play nice with people with radical beliefs who would happily destroy you if they could? Obama's politics don't always make sense to me. Sometimes I think he's hiding something. Maybe he is really Muslim, after all. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I'm just saying.

Anyhow, I didn't come here to talk about politics but I just thought I'd tell you a little about me. My husband Joel Moustache shocked the family in the summer of 2011. He revealed to us that he was gay and had been carrying on an affair with his fellow trucker Randall Lemieux for the past ten years. To say that I was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. I never imagined that my tall, blond and blue-eyed, absolutely masculine husband could be queer. Seriously. The thought never entered my mind. Well, he is gay and we're getting divorced. I cannot share my life with a man who doesn't love me. Now, don't think that I am homophobic or anything. I dated an openly bisexual guy named Scott Lafontaine in college. We had fun and we were fond of each other. We only split because he moved away for grad school. Scott was honest with himself and he was faithful to me. Scott never lied to me. Joel lied to me and he lied to himself. I don't think I can forgive that. Also, I don't like cheaters. I feel like I am the laughingstock of my family and friends. My world turned upside down last summer and I am just beginning to recover.

I decided to go to the City of Buffalo, New York, for a bit of a holiday. Buffalo is right next to Lake Erie, Ontario. It's the first American town once you cross the Canadian --American border. I go there fairly often, mainly to shop at the Galleria Mall because it's much cheaper than any store in Ontario. Guess who I ran into? There he was, standing inside Dunkin Donuts, holding onto his cowboy hat. Scott Lafontaine. Six feet two inches tall, lean and wiry, with dark brown skin and curly Black hair. The handsome Haitian-born American stud who took my breath away at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst so many years ago. I recognized him even now. Oh, there was a bit of gray on his beard but he looked really good. I gently tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look at me. Scott's eyes widened in recognition and he threw his arms wide open. I hugged him gently. Scott and I remained in a tight embrace for a long moment, then we looked at each other again. Oh, my. He still looked hot. He asked me to join him for coffee. I couldn't say no to an old friend now, could I?

As we sat across from each other at a table inside Buffalo City's Galleria Mall, Scott and I caught up. He told me he never got married, but he was a parent. He showed me pictures of his sons, Jayson and Matthew Lafontaine. I looked at photos of two light-skinned young Black men in their early twenties. Scott told me about their mother, an Italian-American lady named Anunciata Tartaglia. He met her after completing the MBA program at the University of Houston in Texas. No, they never got hitched. They got along alright, though. No, they were no longer together. Scott was single. Had been for the past three years. He was happy with his job as a realtor. Both of his sons were at Howard University. When I told him that my own son Joey was at Howard, Scott laughed. I've always been very afro-centric, even though I married a White man in Canada. I guess my son Joey got that from me. Scott and I talked about our brats, their schools, and about our lives.

Looking into Scott's soulful brown eyes, I felt my heart flutter. Even after all those years, he still had that effect on me. I didn't want to tell him about my husband Joel's revelation of his homosexuality and him running off with his friend/fuck buddy Randall. Still, this was Scott and we never kept anything from each other. I told him everything that happened, all that I had gone through in the name of career, love and family, and I had tears flowing from my eyes by the time I finished. Scott gently laid his hand on mine, and simply looked into my eyes. I looked into his eyes, and next thing I knew, we were kissing. Just locking tongues and making out like the college brats we once were, so many years ago. Before careers, marriages and having brats of our own. I threw my arms around Scott and kissed him like my life depended on it. 

When we came up for air, I was grinning like a schoolgirl and so was he. I looked at Scott and he looked at me. My sexy stud winked at me mischievously and looked me up and down before licking his lips suggestively. I felt a thrill down my spine, among other places. And it was as if the past twenty-plus years hadn't gone by. Scott asked me what I was doing tonight. I told him I didn't plan on doing anything. Just staying in my hotel room moping. Scott laughed, and asked me if I still liked reggae dancing. I smiled. Of course I still love reggae! I've got Black in my blood. Some things never change. Scott offered me his hand and I took it. Thus we left Dunkin Donuts and made our way to my hotel room...I had some catching up to do, in more ways than one.



Black Love Shines Eternal



My name is Steve Sinclair. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I got lots to tell you people. Some of it is pretty hot so you better sit down. I'm originally from the City of Boston, State of Massachusetts. And I moved to the Province of Ontario for school. Higher education is cheap in Canada for permanent residents and citizens. Higher education is expensive for everyone in America unless you're related to Bill Gates. I flunked out of Boston's very own Northeastern University and transferred to Ottawa's flagship school, Carleton University. It sucks big-time but it's also the place where I met the young lady who changed my life forever.

I'm referring of course to Marian McArthur, the young Black woman of Nigerian and English descent whom I ran into at Carleton University's library. I've always had a thing for exotic-looking women, and Marian was definitely something else. Her father James McArthur is half Black and half White. Her mom Anne Adewale is Nigerian. They're both from the United Kingdom, where Marian was born. Marian has lived in Canada for the past three and a half years. Her father works for the British Embassy in downtown Ottawa.  How cool is that? At the time that I met Marian, I was going through a really tough time. Simply put, I was losing faith in Black women and in Black relationships. Well, Marian put a stop to that. She helped me regain my faith.

It all began when this African chick named Naomi dumped me out of the blue after using me. That's what I don't get about Black women. Actually, make that some Black women. They're always complaining that there are no good brothers out there. Well, I am a good brother. I'm not a bad-looking man. I respect women. I have a steady job. I go to university. I come from a good family. And I'm a God-fearing man. Black women seem determined to treat well-meaning brothers like me like dirt, and they chase Black guys who fit the definition of a T.H.U.G. Either that or they're dropping Black guys altogether and worshiping at the altar of White Men. Black women in Canada treat White men like gods and treat Black guys like dirt. Must be why so many Black guys are chasing White women like their lives depend on it. Hot damn.

Living in an environment like this, I started having doubts about the Black Love. In hindsight, I really shouldn't have. After all, I am a proud citizen of Obama's America. My father Leonard Sinclair is a lieutenant with the Massachusetts State Police. My mother Jeannine Saint-Pierre is a schoolteacher. They're a couple of hard-working, God-fearing and family-oriented Haitian-American professionals living in New England. I grew up with Black Love all around me. Yet upon moving to the Confederation of Canada, I started questioning things I had never questioned before. Why did the local Black women hate the local Black men so much? What was so special about White men in the eyes of Black women? And why must every Black guy in Ottawa date a chubby White lady but never a skinny one? Did Black Love matter to Black people in the Confederation of Canada? I didn't know. I couldn't know. So many questions and so little time, eh?

I decided to focus on school and work, and ignore all the pretty Black ladies I ran into in the City of Ottawa. Pretty Black ladies who couldn't care about someone like me. Like the song goes, they kept their love on lockdown. I went to class, went to work and slept. That's about it. Occasionally, I hung out with my guy friends. I didn't have a steady girlfriend. I wasn't having sex. I wasn't dating. I barely hung out. Yeah, it was not exactly a terribly exciting period of this brother's life, folks. Seriously. Then I met Marian McArthur. The young Black woman from the United Kingdom. The woman who changed everything. For starters, Marian liked me and she didn't hide it. Not one bit. This was one lady who didn't play games. And she always went for what she wanted. Every time. How about that?

Marian McArthur did for me what the goddess Persephone did for Hades, Lord of the Underworld, in Greek Mythology. She came into my world and changed everything. She helped me emerge from my world of darkness and step into the light. Before she came along, all I did was work to pay the bills and go to class. I had no joy in my life. I lived a truly solitary life. I didn't even have friends. I only had a few acquaintances. Well, Marian was determined to help me become human again, for lack of a better term. And I was irrevocably changed, whether I liked it or not. I think Marian should be named the African Goddess of Passion and Renewal, folks. I swear when she came into my life, the sun shone brighter and water tasted sweeter. I am not kidding. She was transforming me, minute by minute, day by day.

Yeah, I was falling in love with the lovely Marian McArthur. Formerly of the United Kingdom and currently of Ottawa, Ontario. My fellow Criminology student at Carleton University, Canada's capital university. And the most remarkable thing of all is that she was falling in love with me. How about that? Plenty of times I felt enormous affection for a woman, and she barely noticed that I existed. Side effect of suffering from Nice Guy Syndrome. Well, I had finally met the woman who liked nice guys instead of roughnecks. A type of woman I wasn't sure existed until I met her...and kissed her, and held her in my arms.

And just like that, Marian and I became an item. What a pair we made. A Black woman from Great Britain and a Haitian-American man, living together in the capital of Canada. Talk about worlds colliding! What no one could have foreseen was how happy we'd be together. I will graduate from Carleton University with my bachelor's degree in Criminology in 2012. I intend to attend the University of Ottawa's Faculty of Law. Marian wants to stick around after graduation too. Like me, she has law school in her sights. We're a sexy, ambitious Black couple. And we're happy together. Black Love shines eternal. Never doubt it, my brothers and sisters.



Black Love Shines Eternally



My name is Manuel Vasquez Johnson. A big and tall young man of Black and Spanish descent living in the City of Detroit, Michigan. I was born in the City of Brockton, Massachusetts. On the first day of February 1987. My father James Johnson is originally from the island of Jamaica and my mother Estella Vasquez is from the Republic of Spain. Just a pair of immigrants from opposite sides of the world. They met in the City of Boston in the 1980s, got married and had little old me. They got divorced three years later, and after that I mostly grew up with my mother's family. It's only recently that I began to identify as Black and embrace my African-American heritage. My mother's Spanish family never got over her marrying a Black guy and made me feel nasty about being part Black. No more! I am who I am and I fully embrace it. 

These days, I am a student at Wayne State University right here in Detroit. Why did I choose to attend a school in Detroit when I had acceptance letters from Boston University and Brandeis University? I wanted out of Boston and I also wanted to live in a predominantly African-American metropolis. If I hadn't ended up in the City of Detroit I might have chosen to attend either Morehouse College, Georgia State University or Clark Atlanta University in the City of Atlanta, Georgia. Folks, I have fallen in love with the City of Detroit. I wish President Barack Obama and the higher-ups in Washington D.C. hadn't listened to the White people and given up on this fine town. Detroit has a lot of culture, integrity and history. It's a beautiful town. It's also the place where my father lives. Let's not forget that.

My father James Johnson is a Sergeant with the Detroit Police Department. A big and tall Black man who looks just like me, only his skin is jet-Black while mine is a really light shade of brown. We have the same roughly handsome features, strong build and kinky hair. The only big difference between us is that my eyes are green. Of course, I'm younger and better-looking, as I playfully remind him. My dad remarried after my mother finally gave into pressures from her racist family and left him. These days, dad is married to this Italian lady named Nina Tartaglia. They have a daughter together, Arianna. My half-sister Arianna is a freshman at Wayne County Community College. And she doesn't care for me in the least. I think she's a bitch just like her Italian but my father says they make him happy. I guess my Pops doesn't like to date Black women. That's a shame because I really, really like Black women. My Spanish mother has no love for Black ladies and constantly reminded me that she thought they were no good. I took a Black chick named Monique to the Prom senior year and I had to hide that fact from my racist mother. My father practically wept when I told him that. My mom can be a bitch sometimes, man. For real.

I'm going out with a lovely Black woman named Lamika Harding these days. This five-foot-eleven, dark-skinned, voluptuous and big-bottomed Black woman simply took my breath away when I first saw her. She's in the MBA program at Wayne State University and clearly a few years older than me. Also, she used to be married to a White guy from Ireland named Eric O'Shea and has a son by him, Little Jimmy. Apparently, her marriage ended when she caught her Irish-American husband in bed with Todd, a Black guy who lived in their neighbourhood. Wow. I guess White guys sometimes have jungle fever not just for Black women but for Black men as well. Lamika Harding is a no-nonsense Black woman raising a mixed-race son in the City of Detroit while attending business school. 

I am twenty four years old and my girlfriend Lamika Harding is twenty seven years old. This might not seem like a big deal to you but women have issues when it comes to dating younger men. I've fallen in love with Lamika and I don't see any problem with our age difference. I really get along with her son Little Jimmy. He kind of looks like me with his really light brown skin and pale gray eyes. We're both mixed. Lamika is raising her son as a Black man, though. She doesn't let him spend any time with his biological father, whom she sees as a deceiver and a corruptive force in her life. In fact, she has a restraining order against him. And she's had him jailed twice for failing to provide financial support for their son. I knew Black women had a strong dislike of undercover bisexual men but I never thought she would take it this far. I remember watching that Down Low discussion on the Oprah Winfrey Show a few years back. I guess Oprah got it wrong. It's not just bisexual Black guys who hide their sexual orientation from the ladies in their lives. Lamika Harding's ex-husband was White, and he was clearly leading a double life at the time that she caught him. 

Folks, I am really fond of Lamika. Unfortunately, she's been hurt too many times and has trouble trusting men. Lamika told me that she only dated Eric O'Malley after years of disappointing relationships with Black men. She said she foolishly thought a White man would be different. And Eric O'Malley, her Prince Charming from Ireland turned out to be her biggest disappointment. I've tried my best to comfort Lamika and show her that I wanted to be there for her. It took me a year but I guess my hard work paid off. My beautiful Black lady is starting to come around. Black women are so lovely and so damn complicated sometimes. I've always found tall, dark-skinned Black women with big butts to be my personal standards of beauty. I've never been into Asian women, Latin women or White women. Yet it seems that Black women don't know they're beautiful. Give me a curvy Black chick who's really dark-skinned, has kinky hair and a big butt over a skinny blonde-haired White chick any damn day of the week.

I worship tall, dark-skinned Black women with big butts. It's one of the things Lamika loves about me. And I proudly consider myself totally Black even though my skin is light brown and my eyes are green. I only hang out with Black guys, I don't associate with White students on campus. Not that I'm prejudiced or anything but I've met enough White folks to last me a lifetime. I really want to connect with my fellow Blacks. And I made this abundantly clear to my Lamika. And at last my hard work paid off. My Lamika has finally opened up to me. It's about time, too. For I was sincerely starting to wonder if I'm wasting my time. I'm a twenty-four-year-old Law student at Wayne State University. A young Black man in a City full of Black women. A lot of my Black male friends thought saddling myself with a single mother was a lousy move. At times, I've thought so too. I'm not going to lie. However, I've got a thing for Lamika.

One night, Lamika Harding unleashed her passion on me. And I must say that I liked it. I came to her apartment on Bagley Street and found the place strangely quiet. I called out, and heard Lamika's voice reply to me. She told me her son Little Jimmy was at his grandparents house. I nodded, and noticed that there were lit candles and flowers all over the place. Something stirred in me. And I knew that I was right as a very naked Lamika came out of the shadows. I gazed at my sexy lady. Hot damn she was beautiful. I feasted my eyes on her curvy, naked body. That gloriously dark skin. Those long dreadlocks. Full lips. Big breasts. Wide hips. Thick ass. Hot damn. Lamika licked her exquisite lips and asked me if I liked what I saw. I nodded so fast my neck hurts. Hot damn.

Lamika walked up to me and kissed me full and deep. She stroked the front of my pants and smiled as she noticed my hardness. Then she unzipped my pants and took my dick out. Before I knew what was going on, she took action. Lamika knelt before me and began sucking my nine-inch, uncircumcised Black cock like her life depended on it. I smiled to myself as I watched my sexy Black lady going wild on me. She sucked that dick like there was no tomorrow, man. While sucking my cock, Lamika stroked my hairy balls with gusto. I ran my hands through her long dreadlocks as she went down on me. She sucked my cock while gripping my ass cheeks tightly. When I finally came, she drank all of my seed. I was shocked, man. I didn't know my church-going, hard-working and education-minded single mom of a lady friend got down like that! Lamika wiped her full lips with the back of her hand, and told me I hadn't seen anything yet. Then she got up, held me by my dick and led me to the bedroom. What choice did I have but to follow her?

Once we got to the bedroom, the action really began. Lamika was very demanding, but that's okay. I like it like that. I spread her big, sexy Black thighs and gave her hairy pussy a good licking. I inhaled the scent of her Black pussy. Hot damn she smelled hot. I've only been with Black women, as I said before, and no two of them ever smelled or tasted alike. I dipped two fingers into Lamika's snatch and began fucking her pussy with my fingers while gently teasing her clitoris with my tongue. Lamika squealed as I worked my magic on her. In no time I had her wet and moaning my name. After that, I put on a condom and gave her the whole enchilada. Lamika wrapped her arms around me as I thrust my cock deep into her snatch. Lamika screamed and talked dirty as I hammered her pussy with powerful thrusts of my cock. I guess we both wanted to make up for lost time. That's what happens when you haven't fucked in a while.

I flipped Lamika on all fours, face down and ass up and took her like this. I kissed Lamika's big Black ass and lightly spanked it before thrusting my cock into her pussy, fucking her doggy-style. Watching Lamika's big Black booty bounce under the force of my thrusts really turned me on. Hard and fast I pumped my dick into her snatch. I wanted to tear up that pussy, man. And Lamika totally loved it. She called me Papi and urged me to fuck her harder. I wanted to break my dick in that pussy of hers, man. For real. We fucked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. I was on my third condom of the night when Lamika asked me to try something new. Yep, she wanted to get a little ass play. And that's more than okay by me. I spread Lamika's big butt cheeks wide open and licked her asshole like it was the sweetest thing I'd ever tasted. I fingered her asshole and licked it, eliciting moans of pleasure from her. Then I took the hand lotion she handed me and applied some lube on her asshole. Then I pressed my dick against her asshole. Slowly, I pushed it inside.

Lamika groaned as I penetrated her asshole. This wasn't my first time having anal sex. I hooked up with a forty-something Jamaican beauty named Evelyn in Boston last summer. Now that lady loved anal sex more than anybody I knew. I was happy to discover Lamika had similar inclinations. She fingered her wet pussy as I fucked her in the ass and told me to pound her ass hard. Apparently, she hadn't gotten a good fuck in the ass in a while and missed it. Well, I was more than happy to help my lady rediscover the joys of anal sex. I held her wide hips tightly and thrust my cock deeper into her asshole. Lamika's asshole felt wonderfully around my cock. I loved how it felt tight at first then stretched nicely to accommodate most of my nine inches. Hot damn, it felt good. Lamika asked me to pull her hair and spank her while fucking her. I did just that. I grabbed a handful of her dreadlocks and pulled them back while spanking her big Black ass. At the same time, I filled her asshole with my dick. I went in balls deep, man. And it was absolutely glorious. I forgot how many condoms Lamika and I used up that night. Probably ten or something. It was that good.

I woke up the next morning in Lamika's bed, but she wasn't there. I heard her humming, though. I grabbed my shorts, and went into the kitchen. Guess who I saw standing there, cooking an omelette in the nude? None other than my Lamika. The sight of her big Black ass swaying from side to side as she handled the skillet turned me on. I walked up behind her and kissed her gently. Lamika grinned, turned around and kissed me. I thanked her for a wonderful night, and told her how much she meant to me. Lamika grinned, and told me she'd been aching to fuck me for ages. She just wanted to make sure I was the right guy. I don't know what criterion she used for her choices but evidently, I made the cut. I passed her test, so to speak. We were in new territory. And I'm fine with that. I love my lady and she loves me. We're quite happy together.



Black Love: Strapon Edition



Admit it. You're one of those men out there who have a hidden fetish. You know who you are. You're constantly scouring the internet looking for porn. Not just any kind of porn. You're into the kind of porn that features women fucking men with strap-on dildos. It's totally your thing. And that's how you get your rocks off. And you think you're the last guy people would ever suspect of having such a fetish because you're a masculine Black man. You're busted, brother. Why? Because I'm into the same thing you are.

My name is Ramon Brown. A big and tall young Black man living in the city of Buffalo, New York. I'm a third-year student at Buffalo State College, majoring in Criminal Justice. Someday soon, I'm going to be a police officer like my father Randall Brown before me. He's one of the first African-American police chiefs Western New York ever had. My mother Isabel Costa Brown is a lady of Haitian and Puerto Rican descent. She works as a schoolteacher. I grew up in a very loving and supportive household.

These days, I'm having a lot of fun in the city of Buffalo. Although I was born here, I spent most of my time away from the city growing up. I attended Roxdale Academy, an all-male private school for the sons of wealthy families in western New York. My parents worked their butts off to send me there so I would have a better future. After graduating from Roxdale Academy, I had acceptance letters from NYU, Princeton and many other good schools. I chose Buffalo State College because it's in my hometown. I've attended a rich white school my whole life. I wanted to attend a diverse college in my hometown. The city of Buffalo has a significant African-American population. Although we've fallen on hard times during the recession, we're more unified than ever before.

Anyhow, back to the topic at hand. I was explaining to you folks my secret special interest. I admit that I'm one of those Black men out there who have a real fetish for strap-on dildos. I scour the web for that kind of porn. It's not exactly rare. Any search engine will come up with dozens or even hundreds of hits. However, the kind of strap-on porn I like is hard to find. I like black strap-on porn or interracial strap-on porn. Both are extremely rare. It's mostly white guys getting fucked in the ass by women wearing strap-on dildos. Not black men or Hispanic men. Weird, huh? Yeah.

I found this website featuring some men who were definitely in pain. This black male model named J.H. is one of the few African-American porn actors who stars in interracial BDSM as a submissive. I've seen him getting fucked in the ass by white women wearing strap-on dildos. The guy appears to be really enjoying himself in these videos. There are one or two other black guys who appear as submissives in these BDSM strap-on fetish videos but they like to hide their faces. J.H. doesn't hide his face. The guy is clearly really into this.

I once watched this really erotic online video featuring a black-haired white woman wearing a nurse's uniform as she fucked a black man with a strap-on dildo in a fetish dungeon. It was really, really hot. I jerked off while watching it and got really turned on. I also found these other videos featuring some captive males getting fucked by women wearing strap-on dildos. In one of them, a dark-haired white woman fucks a masked black man with a strap-on dildo after tying him up. It was really, really hot. I like these videos, but I'm not the kind of guy who would let some white chick fuck me with a dildo. I don't like white chicks. I like black women. How do I satisfy my lust?

Now, don't think of me as a loser just because I'm a guy who spends a lot of time online. I'm the King of the Campus at Buffalo State College. Even though I'm already covered by my academic scholarship, I play a mean game of rugby. Buffalo State College has these really competitive men's and women's intercollegiate Rugby clubs. I'm captain of the Men's Rugby Club at Buffalo State College. The men's and women's Rugby clubs are far more competitive than our lackluster football team. We attract more people at our events too. Football players have inflated egos, as do the players on the men's and women's basketball teams. Us rugby players are tough, dedicated and humble. It's what makes us great athletes. I have legions of fans on campus and I love it.

I've dated all kinds of women on campus. Last year, I dated a pretty Asian gal named Donna Chang. She was mighty fine-looking. Five-foot-ten, lean and muscular. Half Chinese and half Caucasian. She was really hot. We met while I was hanging out at the Galleria Mall and she was really drawn to me. We had fun together. She transferred to NYU earlier this year. I've dated Hispanic women as well. The black women on campus are gorgeous but most of them aren't into me. I'm a nerdy guy who enjoys a mean game of rugby. I'm not the gangster type that most of these black college women seem to like. I went to private school. My dad's a cop. My mom's a teacher. I grew up in a middle-class home. There's nothing gangster about me. I couldn't fake it to save my life.

Recently, I met someone who really lit my fire. Her name is Judith Black. A five-foot-eleven, dark-skinned, busty and big-bottomed, kind of heavyset Black woman. She transferred to Buffalo State College from the world-famous John Jay College of Criminal Justice. We got along wonderfully because this gal was born and raised in London, England, where they love rugby. She joined the women's rugby club at school and soon became its captain. I loved watching her on the field. This gal was smart, sexy and had some great moves. Also, she had a cute face, thick body and a big butt. Things I love in a woman.

Judith Black and I began dating. She was cool, and we had a lot of fun together. She was a really sexual person too. We did all kinds of raunchy things in her dormitory. Judith liked to make me lie on the bed while she knelt before me and sucked my cock. This big sexy black woman could suck cock like there was no tomorrow. She liked sucking my eight-inch, uncircumcised black rod of manly power. She loved to deep throat it. And I loved it when she did that. She was kinky too and liked to stick her fingers up my ass while sucking my cock. Hot damn, my woman was hot!

Judith was demanding in bed as well. She liked it when I knelt before her and worshiped her like the dominant black goddess she was. She loved it when I licked her pussy, twirling my tongue deep inside and probing her with my fingers. I like eating pussy. I love to make a woman's eyes widen in surprise pleasure as I rock her world with my magic fingers and agile tongue. After licking her pussy, I would put her on all fours and fuck her. I love fucking her pussy from behind. To my great surprise, Judith also liked anal sex. She liked to get on all fours, face down and ass up, and demand to get ass fucked. I absolutely loved it. I'd get behind her, and press my cock against her lubricated asshole before pushing it inside. Judith absolutely loved my cock in her asshole. She would squeal and demand that I fuck her harder. I would drill my cock into her asshole like there was no tomorrow. Fuck her asshole until I came. And she always licked my dick afterwards. Isn't she cool?

One day, Judith surprised the hell out of me. She bought a strap-on dildo and told me she was going to fuck me with it. I was stunned. Judith told me she'd seen my porn collection and knew what I secretly wanted. I looked at her and she grinned maliciously. I was busted. There was no need arguing. I got on my knees before my dominant black goddess and began sucking on her strap-on cock. Judith smiled as I sucked her off. She barked orders at me, ordering me to suck her this way or that. I did as I was told, secretly thrilled beyond measure.

After I finished sucking Judith's strap-on dildo, she put me on all fours and lubricated my asshole. Without further ado, she pushed the dildo into my ass. I was really surprised at her boldness. My woman didn't play. Gripping my hips, she began thrusting her dildo deep into my asshole. I screamed as she fucked me. This was my ultimate fantasy coming true. Judith laughed at my screams as she plunged her dildo deep into my asshole. I completely surrendered to this dominant black goddess. I was her black male submissive and she owned my ass. She savagely slammed the dildo up my ass, making me squeal. 

Judith flipped me on my back and raised my big legs into the air while ramming the dildo deep into my asshole. I howled as she fucked my ass with gusto. Judith laughed and told me she always wanted to fuck a big black man like me with her strap-on dildo. She confessed that she fucked many, many guys but never fucked a black man with her strap-on dildo before. I completely surrendered to her, and absolutely loved it. She fucked me hard and fast, and I craved more and more. It was absolutely fantastic. Judith fucked me until I begged for mercy, then she fucked me some more. It was hot.

Yeah, Judith fucked me silly. I woke up with a sore ass the next day. I loved it. Since that day, my sweet woman and I have been closer than ever before. We're happy together. Because every night, each of us fucks the other's ass until they beg for mercy. We're buying condoms, lubricant and dildos by the barrel. Life is good. We're a sexy Black couple in collegiate America and we're happy together. Academically, sexually and romantically, we're doing good.



Black Love: Transsexual Edition



My name is Steve Vincent. A big and tall young Black man living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Currently, I'm a graduate student at the University of Massachusetts in downtown Boston. When I'm not in class, I work for the Department of Corrections. I'm openly bisexual, and love to have fun. Whether I hook up with a male or female, it doesn't matter. As long as they're feeling me. Today, I'm having some fun with some friends of mine. It's been a while since we got down and dirty. Black college students like to have fun too, folks. We have way more fun than our white counterparts. Don't let anyone tell you different. It's just the way we get down.

Presently, I'm having some fun with my good friend Lisa Bards. She's a tall, light-skinned and short-haired Black woman from the city of Atlanta, Georgia. I'm madly in love with her. Like me, she's a swinger. I'm sitting on the couch, smoking a cigar while Lisa kneels before me. She's got those sexy lips wrapped around my long and thick, uncircumcised Black cock. I love hooking up with sexy mature Black women like Lisa Bards. She's got the perfect round ass. And she likes younger men. Especially well-endowed Black studs like me. I love that about her.

Nearby, my friend Roger Joseph is having some fun with his Amazon-like girlfriend Georgia Claude. Roger is a tall, lean young Black man I met at Emerson College. He's a member of the men's soccer team at his school. Like me, he's a bisexual Haitian-American stud muffin. He goes both ways but he's really got a thing for transsexuals. That's why he hooked up with Georgia Claude. I must admit that when I first met her, I had no idea she was a transsexual. Georgia is five feet ten inches tall, curvy and delightfully thick, with dark brown skin, long black hair and a big round ass. A really big round ass. She's got the body of Queen Latifah plus the amazing booty of Serena Williams, folks. And a face as pretty as that of Alicia Keys. What I also found out is she's got a dick as gigantic as that of well-known African-American porn star Lexington Steele. She's got a ten-inch Black dick, folks. Wow.

After Lisa Bards got done sucking my long and thick Black cock, I decided to return the favor. I spread the sexy mature Black woman's shapely thighs and decided to give her pussy a good licking. I haven't gone down on a woman in a while. I began licking Lisa Bards pussy while eyeballing my buddy Roger and his lady Georgia Claude. Roger was on his knees, sucking on Georgia's gigantic Black cock. Hot damn. I hadn't seen a cock this big in ages. And I watch Black porn and interracial porn movies daily on my computer. Georgia winked at me as she caught me watching her fucking my friend's mouth with her gigantic dick. I couldn't help myself. Lisa Bards ran her sleek hands through my hair and urged me to continue licking her pussy. I did precisely that, fingering her pussy and licking it like there was no tomorrow. Afterwards, I put on a condom and told Lisa Bards to get ready for a ride.

I put the sexy mature Black woman on all fours and caressed her sexy round ass. Hot damn I love a mature Black woman with a sexy hard. I mentally masturbate while staring at the big-bottomed mature Black women at the Haitian-American Seventh-Day Adventist Church of Brockton, which I attend weekly. What can I say? These women are fine. Lisa Bards was in a league of her own when it came to sexy mature Black booties. I caressed her sexy ass and gently smacked it. She yelped, and told me to get to business. I grinned. What can I say? I like a woman who's eager for my brand of action. I pried Lisa Bards sexy butt cheeks wide open and had a look at her asshole. Nice. I slipped one finger inside, then two. Oh, my. This sexy mature Black woman was definitely no stranger to anal sex. I like that a lot. I pressed my cock against Lisa Bards asshole and pushed it inside gently.

Lisa grimaced as I pushed my cock deep into her asshole. I gripped her sexy wide hips tightly as I eased my cock into her booty hole. I've always loved the idea of sliding my cock in and out of a big-bottomed mature Black woman's asshole. I guess it's because I found mature Black women both sexy and dangerous growing up. They've always fascinated me. I loved the feel of Lisa Bards tight asshole around my long and thick Black cock. The sexy mature Black woman's tight asshole gripped my thick member like a vise. It felt good. Nearby, I noticed my friend Roger was having some anal sex of his very own. Georgia had him on all fours, face down and ass up. I watched the sexy Black transsexual as she thrust her long dick deep inside my friend's tight asshole. Roger was squealing as Georgia fucked him hard. I've hooked up with Roger in the past. Matter of fact, I've shoved my dick up his ass quite a few times. And he absolutely loved it. Watching him get fucked by his sexy transsexual girlfriend reminded me how fun sex with men could be. 

I gripped Lisa Bards hair and yanked her head back while sliding my cock in and out of her asshole. She howled as I fucked her in the ass. I loved the sounds she made. I was fulfilling my fantasy of fucking a sexy mature Black woman in her ass. And it was absolutely awesome. I fucked Lisa's sexy ass until I came, blasting my hot cum deep inside of her. At the same time, Georgia came inside Roger and his screams of pain mixed with pleasure filled the room. Afterwards, the four of us hit the showers. A good time was had by all that night. We went to sleep. My friends were welcome to stay in my two-bedroom apartment. Lisa slept next to me. Georgia and Roger shared the next room. I had gotten laid but still, I wasn't sated. I went to the living room to watch some porn.

Guess who I found in the living room? It was Georgia. The sexy Black transsexual was watching a porn DVD. She sat there, stroking her magnificent cock while watching some chubby young Black chick getting ass fucked by some blonde-haired middle-aged white woman wearing a huge strap-on dildo. Georgia noticed me and smiled. She told me she liked interracial lesbian porn. I sat next to her and watched the movie with her. I was turned on both by the movie and her dick. Without a word being spoken, we started fucking. I took Georgia's thick cock into my mouth and sucked her off like there was no tomorrow. I don't usually do this for guys or transsexuals but I liked Georgia. Once I got her thick cock nice and hard, we got down and dirty.

I got on all fours and Georgia came up behind me. She spread my ass cheeks wide open and pressed her gigantic cock against my asshole. With a swift thrust, she sank it inside of me. I howled as Georgia worked her ten-inch dick into this young Black man's ass. I have ass fucked lots of women, men and transsexuals before but this was my first time getting fucked in the ass. This was really different. Georgia gripped my hips and shoved her dick deep into my asshole. I felt like her gigantic cock was splitting my ass in half. Georgia laughed at my screams and pounded my asshole mercilessly. Reaching underneath me, she stroked my cock while fucking me in the ass. At long last, I surrendered to the tall and sexy Black transsexual. I let her fuck me and enjoyed it. Georgia fucked my ass until she came, flooding my asshole with her cum. Afterwards, we sucked each other's dicks off and went back to our respective mates.

Since that day, Georgia and I have been having a secret affair. I love Lisa Bards. She's always eager to receive my big dick in her mouth, pussy and asshole. She's a lot of fun. And you know I love mature Black women with big butts and voracious sexual appetites. However, Georgia's giving me something nobody else can. I've grown really fond of the sexy Black transsexual. I love the feel of her ten-inch dick up my ass and if loving it is wrong then I don't want to be right. This bisexual Black stud has some unique needs, folks. Sorry if I seem weird to you. It's just the way I get down. 



Black Love: Virgin Edition



My name is Charlene Joseph. A five-foot-eleven, busty and big-bottomed, dark-skinned and deliciously voluptuous Black woman of Haitian descent living in the city of Buffalo, New York. I'm a student at Buffalo State College, majoring in civil engineering. This right here is my story of making it in the fast-paced and often treacherous world of collegiate America. I'm something you've never seen before, folks, so please brace yourselves. A good Black woman in the United States of America who actually appreciates good Black men. Can I get a drum roll please?

The majority of Black females you meet in America don't seem to appreciate good Black men. Plenty of Black men are hard-working, college-educated, law-abiding and God-fearing gentlemen. They're not rare. There are plenty of them. I've met many at my school, Buffalo State College. And I've seen plenty of them at schools like Morehouse College, Florida State, the University of Massachusetts, Georgia State University, Bay State College, Clark-Atlanta University and other schools with significant numbers of Black males in their student body. There are plenty of decent Black men out there. The kind that would make good fathers and good husbands for family-oriented Black women. Unfortunately, these brothers are often overlooked by Black women. What gives?

Well, unlike so many sisters out there, I decided to play it smart. I met a tall, dark and handsome stud named Jerome Louis at Buffalo State College. He's from the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. This native of New England recently graduated from Cardinal August High School, an elite all-male Catholic school. I was smitten with Jerome Louis the first time I laid eyes on him. I like big and tall young Black men with rugged good looks. So I did my homework on him. He came from an impressive family. His father, Sebastien Louis is a Haitian-American civil engineer who graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1987. He works for the city of Boston. His mother Elisabeth Monpoint Louis is a professor of literature at Emerson College in downtown Boston. His older brother Jonathan attends the prestigious Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Yeah, this brother was something else. Good looks, impressive background and lots of charm. My kind of man.

I came to Buffalo State College not only to get my degree and give myself the chance for a better tomorrow but also to get myself a man. For women today, college is the best time and place to meet your future husband. After college, you quickly find out that the pickings are slim. Most of the good men have already been snatched by other women. So what's a gal to do? Stay single in the big city? Hell no! I see a lot of young Black women at Buffalo State College passing up the good Black men for the kind of men your mama warned you about. The thugs, the hustlers and the gangsters. Nothing against these type of men. I'm sure that thugs, gangsters and hustlers need love too. However, I'm a smart sister instead of a ghetto slut who can't stay no to the bad men because her pussy's eternally in heat. Pardon my French. I'm going to find myself a college-educated brother who's going places instead of a thug. Thank you very much.

I decided to have the sexy Jerome Louis for myself. Unlike most of the men on campus, he was actually shy. I didn't think shy young Black men existed. I've lived in the city of Buffalo my entire life and most of the men around here are a cocky, wildly outgoing bunch.. Jerome kept to himself for the most part. He wasn't an athlete or a cocky party man. He was always at the campus library, doing research or simply reading a book. The man was into some heavy reading. I've seen him check out the works of world-famous African-American scholars like Maya Angelou, Henry Louis Gates and W.E.B. Dubois. I also caught him reading the works of foreign writers like the German philosopher Nietzsche and the Chinese military genius Sun Tzu. This man was amazing. Handsome, friendly, and smart as a whip. I had to get him for myself before some other woman stole him away.

Competition for available handsome young Black men is fierce between the young Black women at Buffalo State College. And we've always got to compete with the Hispanic women and the white women because they can't seem to keep their hands off our young Black men. Not that most of our young Black men are putting up much of a fight. So I approached Jerome, and introduced myself. He was reading a book by Henry Louis Gates, one of my favorite writers. I surprised him because I knew everything about both the book and its author. For the next hour, Jerome and I sat down and talked about the book. We also talked about college life, lousy cafeteria food, the poor condition of most dorms at school and Black politics in Buffalo City. The usual, everyday stuff, you know?

Jerome was simply amazing. If his good looks were what first drew me in, his easygoing manner and intelligence are what kept my attention. I wanted him so badly. So we exchanged numbers, and I set out to seduce him. I added him as a friend on Twitter, MySpace and Facebook. We talked to each other at night, and also dined together in the school cafeteria. Yeah, I was working my way into this handsome young Black college man's life. He asked me about my family. Well, that was easy. I'm very proud of my family. My father Lionel Joseph is a Sergeant with the Buffalo Metropolitan Police Department. My mother Jeannette Joseph is the owner of Chez Jeannette, a Haitian-themed restaurant in downtown Buffalo. My brother Jackson is a detective with the NYPD. We do alright for ourselves. Jerome was pleased to hear that. And I'm glad. We had a lot in common. Two Haitian-American students from hard-working families attending college in one of America's toughest cities. And we were actually thriving. How about that?

I was falling in love with Jerome. The man was so handsome and so sweet. He was really nice to me and always there when I needed him. I was really, really attracted to him. However, I wasn't sure if he was attracted to me. We've been to the movie theater together at the Galleria Mall, where we caught Black Dynamite. The movie was awesome, but Jerome did little more than hold my hand through the flick. I'm used to men being much bolder when they're with me. Looks like I'd have to make the first move this time. And so I did. Jerome was handing me the popcorn when I suddenly kissed him on the lips. You should have seen the look on his handsome face. The brother was stunned. He hesitated, then kissed me back. His kiss was...uncertain. I didn't know what to make of that, so I chucked it up to surprise. The long drive back to the dorm was awkward.

I didn't know what to make of Jerome's behavior. Wasn't he attracted to me? I knew he was. I've caught him checking out my booty several times when he thought I wasn't looking. So what was the problem? I dialed up my mom and told her about Jerome. At times like these, I needed her experience and wisdom. She told me something I hadn't considered. Jerome's the son of deeply religious people and he went to Catholic school. There was a possibility that he wasn't used to bold young women French kissing him in public. So I decided to cool my jets and take things slow. I dialed things back a notch. I observed Jerome. The man was so friendly to everyone on campus. He volunteered to work with the homeless. He helped at-risk students in the tutoring center. How could a man be this handsome and this nice and still be single? I was determined to help him out of his predicament. By any means of necessary.

One Friday night, Jerome was expecting me in his dorm to help me study for a big test. I ended up surprising the hell out of him. I went to the Galleria Mall and bought a sexy red negligee. It's not easy for a five-foot-eleven, 230-pound Black woman to find sexy lingerie in her size but I did. They had what I needed. I showed up at Jerome's dorm with my books, and my red negligee under my long black trench coat. The sight of my sexy curvy body rendered this six-foot-one, 250-pound Black stud speechless. Jerome gasped, and asked me what I was doing. I kissed him, and then entered the room, closing the door behind me. Jerome stood before me, apparently frozen. I wrapped my arms around him and asked him what he thought. He mumbled something about me looking good. Truth is that he looked nervous as hell. I took his big hands and placed them on my big, round ass. I told him to relax. Looking into his eyes, I felt my heart well up with love for him. My big and tall, super polite and super sexy Black gentleman. Jerome bit his lip, then told me something which shocked me. He told me he'd never done it before. Yes, that kind of it. 

If lightning struck me that night, I wouldn't have been more shocked. Jerome was a virgin? My Jerome? The big and tall, ruggedly handsome Black stud half the women on campus were dying to sleep with? All the gals were talking about him. The Black women. The Hispanic women. The White women. The jocks. The nerds. The hippies. And this manly Black stud was still a virgin! Amazing. Simply amazing. Jerome looked deeply embarrassed. I told him not to worry. All of a sudden, so many things about him made sense. His discomfort when I kissed him in the movie theater. How he got nervous whenever I touched him. All the signs of Virgin Man Syndrome. Yet I missed all those signs. Wow. Jerome and I sat on the bed together. We had some talking to do.

Jerome told me how he spent most of his time in either school or church. Attending an all-male school did wonders for his academic skills, but it left him socially awkward around women. He told me that I was the first person he kissed. Well, the first person other than his mother or cousins to kiss him. I sighed. That was so sweet. This was so awkward for him. I could tell. Well, it was awkward for me too. I lost my virginity to a young Black man I knew my whole life, my friend Jefferson Wilkins. We were freshmen together at Buffalo State. He left me for a white cheerleader named Meredith. I had almost sworn off men altogether until I met Jerome. My Jerome. The tall, dark and handsome, superbly masculine stud. The genius whose academic works earned him praise from the school's president.. Wow.

We lay side by side on his king-sized bed as we shared our stories. Jerome told me how he fell in love with a gal named Joanna, a pretty Haitian gal, only to have her stolen by his best friend Randy. He dated Joanna for years and they had a serious relationship going on when Randy came and messed it up. He'd been alone ever since. And he'd never made love to anyone in his life. That was the source of his embarrassment and the reason behind much of his shyness. He stayed away from most of the wildly outgoing men and gals on campus because he knew it would mean the end of him if they knew he was the campus virgin. I smiled sadly when he told me this. Sex is so different for men and gals. Virgin women are seen as sexy by both women and men. Virgin men are either seen as targets of ridicule or they're hounded by horny gay men and lovelorn mature women. Either way they were in a bind.

I looked at Jerome, and once again my heart swelled in my chest. He was so...beautiful. Big and tall, and ruggedly handsome. Sexy without trying, but with a kind of surprising innocence in his eyes. I wanted him so badly right then and there. So I kissed him again. This time, he didn't resist. My hands roamed all over his sexy body. Jerome hesitated when my hands went for his belt, but I told him to relax. In no time I had him naked. I gazed at his fine, masculine body. Hot damn, this brother was hot! I saw his manhood and gasped. It was both long and thick. He was also uncut, like my dad and uncles. That's cool. Doesn't bother me a bit. I reached for his manhood. Jerome held his breath. Smiling, I kissed a path from his lips to his groin while stroking his manhood.

I looked into his eyes while slowly taking his dick into my mouth. Jerome gasped as I began sucking his dick. I took my sweet time as I worked my magic on him. I wanted his first time to be special. He was tense, and kept fidgeting. I stopped sucking him briefly and told him to relax. Then I went on with what I was doing. I stroked his balls while sucking him off. Jerome closed his eyes as I worked him over. While sucking him, I slid one finger into his ass. His eyes snapped open, but he didn't protest. I slid two fingers into his ass. Yeah, he liked it. If only he knew what kind of kinky woman I am. I've got dildos in my dorm and I've been known to fuck men in the ass during casual sexual encounters. Other times I like it when guys bend me over to fuck me in the ass. Jerome wasn't ready for all that yet. But he liked my style and that's cool. I worked him over orally and manually until he came. Jerome screamed as he came. I watched his magnificent cock as he erupted. Then I surprised the both of us by drinking every last bit of his cum. He tasted saltier, and better than other men.

That night, we had a lot of fun together. Jerome lost his virginity to me. He was nervous about the whole thing, but I reassured him. There's a first time for everything and everyone. Even sexy Black super studs like Jerome Louis. I put a condom on his dick, then climbed on top of him. And I rode him until he had me begging for mercy. My man's magnificent cock filled my pussy and I screamed in delight as he fucked me silly. For an ex-virgin, Jerome was certainly a quick learner. Arms wrapped around each other, we made love. Looking into his eyes as, amazingly, we both came at the same time was an experience I'd never forget. Simply amazing. It was one of the best nights of my life.

Jerome and I are together now. I have a lot to teach him but he's the most dedicated student ever. My man wants to make up for lost time and I'm definitely eager to help him do that. People like seeing us walking around, hand in hand. I'm a beautiful Black female college student who's dating a handsome, charming and absolutely amazing Black male college student. Proof that the Black love is still alive. Especially the love between Black college men and Black college women. My Jerome and I are inseparable, and we get along great. We're eager to meet each other's parents. Something we'll get around to real soon. Life is good.



Black Lover



My black lover has an ashy-looking, grey film streaked and splotched on his body. So when we get together for sex I smooth baby oil all over his body - on his face, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, legs, the front and back of them, on his back, firm buttocks, in his crack. I wipe it down with a soft hand towel. Then he sheens, his black skin glistening, big cock up hard, leaking lots of pre-cum.

Since he is so ready he wastes little time with me. He wants me to kiss, lick, suck his nipples; kiss down his chest onto his abs, tongue his navel; kiss, lick, mouth his ball sack; kiss, lick his butt cheeks, lick his crack and rim his puckered hole; come back up and kiss, lick, suck his cock, take it in my mouth.

Once he has his cock in my mouth he fucks my face. He holds me gently by the back of my head, on my neck, and pushes his cock slowly, slowly, deep into my throat. He can sense when he has cut off my air and I am about to gag, choke on the big head of his thick meat. He can even see it bulging in my neck. He eases it back across my tongue, lips, and slides it back into my throat again, again, again. Over and over he fucks my mouth. His slimy, tasty pre-cum, slick juice mixes with my saliva to lube his big, long, thick cock. I drool onto his cock, wiry pubic hairs, over his ball sack.

Some times when he is really horny, has not cum for a while, he shoots his thick, creamy, hot, white bolts of cum into my mouth. I gulp it down, swallowing. Hold some on my tongue, show it to him, smiling - both of us - and swallow, then show him my empty mouth. I clean his cock with my lips and tongue, get it hard again. Then he pushes me onto my back, opens my legs, spreads them wide and puts his big knob end at my crinkled hole. Or he rolls me over onto my knees, ass up high, chest down, face sideways, mouth still tasting his pre- cum or it and his load of cum.

Either way he forces his big cock into my puckered ring, ovals it, and slides it slowly up into my tight hole. He keeps pushing until it is seated all the way, his balls pressed against me. He pulls back slowly, oh so slowly flaring the flesh of my hole stretched around his big fuck tool until just the head is still in me. Then, grinning at me as I smile back at him in ecstatic pleasure, or leaning over me and kissing, nibbling at the back of my neck, on my shoulders, he pushes his long, thick cock back into me.

He is aggressive with me. In just a few strokes he is pummeling my ass, pounding his cock into me. My little prick in comparison with his cock is bouncing up and down slinging my pre-cum then a steady stream of cum on me and him. As I shoot bolts of cum on my belly and chest if I am on my back, or onto whatever surface is beneath us when I am on my knees, my ass-pussy clutches at his cock, releases, clutches, releases, clutches again with each shot of my cum.

He loves that. He pushes his cock deep in me and holds it there feeling my man-cunt flex on his stiff rod. Sometimes he fills me right away then with his large load of creamy cum, his cock growing even larger, throbbing, jerking and spurting his jism into me. Other times he rides out the flexing of my ass-twat on his big member. Then he fucks me more, slow, speeding up until he is slamming into me again and eventually filling my insides with his hot jizz.

He stays hard for quite a while then and fucks his cock into me in his own cum, forcing it out of my hole with sloppy, squishy sounds. I feel it burbling out of me, spraying around and sliding down the crack of my ass and onto my thighs. 

When his cock-head starts tingling as he has told me it does, he pulls it out of my with a juicy plop and positions me as he wants me to kiss, lick and suck his cock clean. He swipes my cum up on his fingers and feeds it to me, making sure I show it to him and swallow it. 

He stays about half hard. Gets even harder, then fucks me again. He usually takes my ass three or four times every time we are together. I can never get enough of his cock. Knowing that, he offers me to a friend of his, sometimes two, three or four of them.

After his first fuck in my hole it is gaping wide and reluctant to close. Seeing it in that condition, he shoves his cock in me, pulls it all the way out, puts it in again, and repeats that as I squeal in delight at each entry. His buddy, or buddies when he invites them to fuck me either do the same, or simply stick their cocks in me, get down tight against me and in me, and fuck me like the cock-whore that I am.

He always fucks me again after his buddy, or more of them have done me. Then he swabs the cum out of my hole and has me lick and suck it off his fingers. Sometimes he lets me lay most of the night with a man-cunt full of cum. We sleep, the cum oozing out of my hole. Then he mounts me again, his cock in my mouth, or he shoves it right up my ass and gives me another load before we have to go to work. 

The weekends are best. From Friday night until Sunday he uses me with his cock or shares me with his buddies. By Sunday evening I am exhausted. I douche my hole, shower and dress for work sometimes wearing a pad so the cum shot way up in me doesn't leak out of me into my underwear.

I know since he really loves fucking me we will be together again soon, me cleaning the ashy, grey streaks and splotches off of his ebony body with the baby oil, wiping him down with the soft hand towel and him giving me his big cock so erect and oozing pre-cum by the time we finish that ritual.

I love it, and he does too.



Black Lover For Arab Wife



Everyone wears a mask in today's world, and nobody ever truly shows you their true face. It's an indisputable fact about human nature. Take our friend Mona Abdul for example. She's the Yemeni-born wife of imam Muhammad Hassan, a prominent cleric in the Muslim community of metropolitan Ottawa, Ontario. Five-foot-nine, chubby, busty and wide-hipped, with dark bronze skin, dark brown eyes and curly black hair that shines on those rare days when she shows it to the world. In the eyes of the world, Mona Abdul is a graduate student in sociology at the University of Ottawa, and a manager at Shawarma Empire, a Lebanese restaurant in downtown Ottawa. She's thirty six years old, a mother of two and a devoted wife. Yet, like all human beings, there's more to this hijab-wearing, conservative Arab woman than what readily appears.

If Mona's husband Muhammad knew what she was up to this Thursday afternoon in early September, the tall and burly Yemeni-Canadian businessman and mosque leader would definitely have a fit. Worse than that, he'd kill her for sure regardless of what the Canadian government would do to him. The people of Canada, just like Americans, Australians and Europeans, were starting to get tired of the Muslims. Seriously. Muslim women in western societies, both foreign-born women from North Africa and the Middle East along with white female converts irked the secular-minded citizens of these societies by donning burkas and hijabs every chance they got. On the eleventh anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, the American embassy in Libya was attacked by a Muslim mob and four people, including a wise and wonderful man known as Christopher Stevens, a U.S. diplomat, were killed. An event which the international community condemned. 

Soon-to-be-gone and absolutely naïve United States President Barack Hussein Obama made things worse for the United States of America's image worldwide and for his re-election chances against proud Christian conservative and Republican Party nominee Mitt Romney by apologizing to the Muslim mob who killed the American diplomats in Libya over a movie they simply didn't like. Even democrats in the United States of America are railing against U.S. President Barack Hussein Obama for being so dumb. How can any leader apologize to the cruel and vicious enemy that slaughters his own people? Obama's chances for re-election took a dive when he apologized to the Libyan mob that killed the American diplomats. Also, there was a rash of honor killings going on in western societies now. The Muslims were bringing their backward mindset toward gender relations to whatever land they happened to inhabit. Muslim women are getting killed by Muslim men left and right when they didn't toe the line with mute submission. The most ardent defenders of Muslim men's religious and cultural right to do whatever they wanted to their women? Muslim women themselves. A fact which befuddled police officers, social workers and domestic violence advocates in places like North America, Australia, New Zealand and Europe. It's almost as if Muslim women are more than okay with being slaughtered by angry Muslim men in the name of family honor. How weird is that? Small wonder westerners are befuddled by such a mindset.

The thing about Muslim women which many people forget is that they're women, and like all women, by nature they're deceptive. And they're good at it. Take Mona Abdul for example. Her husband Muhammad Hassan is currently attending a conference in the City of Calgary, Province of Alberta. A wealthy and powerful cleric from the City of Riyadh, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, is visiting the Arab community of Calgary and the Mayor of Calgary, himself a Muslim, is scheduled to be there to greet them. The moment her husband left the house, Mona got on the phone with her secret lover, a Haitian gentleman named Adonis Monpoint. The tall, broad-shouldered and muscular young Black man first came to her attention while she was walking through the University of Ottawa library. 

Adonis Monpoint attends Carleton University across town but has many friends at University of Ottawa. Mona Abdul has a thing for Black men, as do many Arab women, but being the wife of a wealthy and possessive Arab leader, she knows better than to let anyone know about her undisclosed desires. Anyone can be jealous, but Arab men's jealous possessiveness over their women is simply legendary. Mona's husband Muhammad the cleric wouldn't think twice of killing her and any man she deceived him with, regardless of the consequences to himself. That's the Arab male mentality. Mona saw that Adonis was cute, and she wanted him for herself. So the 36-year-old Yemeni-born Arabian wife of the capital's most powerful Muslim leader seduced the 22-year-old Haitian student. Adonis was surprised that a mature Arab woman was coming onto him, but she persisted and in the end, the handsome young Haitian student relented.

The two of them, woman and man, Arab and Afro-Caribbean, Muslim and Christian, adulterer and lover, embarked on a passionate relationship. Mona simply couldn't get enough of Adonis, the sexy Haitian stud. She wanted him every chance she got. Whenever her husband was out of town, and he traveled frequently for business, she and Adonis got together. Tonight, she showed up at his apartment near his school and the two of them lay in bed together, cuddling and kissing. Mona Abdul looked into the eyes of the beautiful young Haitian man she had fallen in love with. Her body was pleasurably sore after they made love. Ah, how passionate he was. Tonight, he fucked her in her favorite position. On all fours, face down and ass up. Adonis got behind her and spanked her big round booty before sliding his cock into her cunt. Holding her hips tightly, Adonis slammed his cock into Mona Abdul's tight Yemeni pussy. Even though she was almost four decades old and had given birth to two sons, Mona Abdul was still tight.

Adonis pounded Mona's cunt for a good while, then they switched positions. Now he lay on his back, his long and thick, uncircumcised ebony cock sticking into the air. Grinning, a magnificently naked Mona climbed on top of him, impaling herself on his member. Adonis hands went for her hips and she supported herself by resting her hands on his big, strong shoulders as she began riding him. Adonis cock thrust deep into Mona's cunt, and she squealed in delight as he resumed fucking her. They fucked like that for a good while, then tried something else which they both liked. Mona found herself on all fours, and licked her lips in anticipation as Adonis got behind her and applied cold, slick lubricant to her anus. He tapped her ass and she laughed as he asked her if she was ready. Mona backed her ass up, grinding it against Adonis groin. 

Adonis took that as a yes, and gently pushed his cock into Mona's asshole. Gently he began fucking her in the ass. Mona was no stranger to anal sex and neither was he, but this was a woman he cared about, not one of the random sluts at Carleton University campus, whom he fucked every weekend. He cared about Mona and enjoyed making love to every part of her. Mona moaned and licked her lips as Adonis cock invaded her asshole. Although he was very gentle and patient as he worked his cock into her tight asshole, it still hurt a bit. She willed herself to endure it, and slowly the pain was replaced by a curious sensation of pleasure as she relaxed and enjoyed herself. They went at it for a good half hour, then Adonis gently pulled his dick out of her ass. Mona winced as Adonis cock exited her rectum. That hurt a bit. Her sweetheart pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, telling her how much he loved her. 

With tears in her eyes, Mona embraced Adonis and told him that she loved him too. And she meant it. No man had ever treated her with as much respect, kindness and love as Adonis did. She looked at the clock on his bedroom wall, and he sighed. She knew what that sigh meant. It was getting late. She had to go back home. The babysitter she hired to take care of the brats, Jamaican-born Algonquin College student Rita Maxwell, would be waiting for her. Gently Mona kissed Adonis goodnight, then put her clothes back on before leaving. Such was the life of the Muslim woman in today's world. Forever denied the chance to choose whom she deemed worthy of loving her because of the constraints of family, community, culture and above all else, religion. 

As Mona Abdul drove back to her house in Orleans, her cell phone rang. It was Rita, the Jamaican babysitter. She said she got a call from Muhammad Hassan, master of the house, claiming he was on his way home from Ottawa International Airport. Apparently, the conference had been cancelled. Mona's heart thundered in her chest. She sped down the highway, anxious to get home. She had to get home before her husband did, and she needed to take a shower. He always insisted on having sex with her as soon as he got home unless she was on her period, and she could never refuse him. Otherwise there would be hell to pay. Muslim men weren't used to hearing women say no to them with impunity, especially in their households. And her husband Muhammad Hassan was no exception to the rule. In her hurry to get home, she didn't notice the thick puddles accumulating near the giant sinkhole which blocked traffic to Orleans for miles. She drove through a slick patch, and her wheels skidded across the highway. She swerved, trying to avoid the incoming truck in front of her, but it was too late. She slammed into it at 75 kilometers per hour. Mona closed her eyes as the two vehicles collided. Adieu Adonis my love, she thought before blacking out. The fireball her car erupted into was visible for miles around. 



Black Lover Girl



Author's notes: If you have read my past Erotic Horror stories [ ed. note: published on AllExtremeSex.Com, accessible from the "Extreme" link on Literotica ], know that this story is not a horror story (per se). Actually this is a very different story. It is a love story (of sorts). However, the biggest difference between this story and my past works, is that this story is true.

About the 'racial' content. Know that I have married and started a family with a beautiful girl with black skin. This story is not meant to lend credence or validity to any racial stereotypes. My wife and I have joked about the subject matter of this story all the years of our marriage. Rather than omit what might be seen as racist remarks, I feel that these aspects increase the eroticism of the story, and thus attention was paid to specifically include them. As a last defense; hell, the story is true, I'm just telling it.

Saturday night. Parking lot filled, cars parked on the grass, and on the lot adjoining. I walked into the strip club with its painted opaque windows. Anita is working tonight. She only works 2 nights a week, but always at least one weekend night, usually both. When the crowds of men are the largest.

Inside is loud music, some dancers. There is no seat at the bar available. I must stand. A beautiful, busty blond is shaking her goods on stage, there are actually three dancers right now. The other two moving about, marketing themselves, selling lap dances. I am quickly approached by an attractive barmaid, and soon have a glass of orange juice for only $2.50.

I love Anita. I met her at her day job at the shopping mall. We have seen a couple movies together. I intend for her to finish her High School, and go to college. I have known her only four months, but I know I love her. I've met her mom and little brothers and sisters. Her mom likes me, gave me dinner once when I dropped by while Anita was out (before I knew about Anita's dancing). I took Anita to take her SAT's, I know she is smart enough to handle college. I will pay her tuition myself.

I feel out of place in this club. The blond is giving me a boner with her serpentine dancing, but this place is just as I imagined it. Not the cleanest floors and walls I've seen. Evidently, only the mirrors placed to further expose the dancers receive any kind of cleaning attention. The building must be 70 years old, and was decrepit looking. Two men were talking beside me.

"Oh, you mean that sign? No, there was a police bust about 7 years ago, no more 'private dancing' sessions in the back."

"That's not true." A third interjected. "The black girl that works here, I forget her name. She's the only one who takes you for private dances, only 50 bucks too! She's been doing it over 3 years now." What? What is this? 3 years? That's impossible! That means Anita had started here before she started her High School!! There must be a mistake. The third noticed me listening, and continued.

"Wait to you see this negro's tits! They look fake they are so big but I've squeezed them, they are real. And this bitch can suck a golf ball through a garden hose. Believe me! Only thing, don't wait for later in the night unless you like it messy, I bet she does thirty guys a night!!" This could not be my Anita. She does have a large chest as far as I can tell, but she is a sweet child. She could never do the things this guy was suggesting. Anita and I really really like each other, and just last week, we had kissed briefly for the first time.

I saw her. She was moving towards the stage, a short red satin robe draped around her. He chest pushing out the front of the satin. Her long legs were bare all the way up until they disappeared under the hem of the robe most of the way up her taut thigh. She was taller. I had never seen her in high heels. The five inch red pumps accentuated every clenching of her hard calf muscles. Her face was made up. She was breath taking. There were immediate shrill cat calls. She stopped before reaching the stage, a half dozen men wagging 50 dollar bills in front of her face.

I pushed my way towards her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Anita was upset, speaking in a reprimanding voice. As if I was the child and she was 13 years my elder, though it was the other way around.

"You said you would never go to a place like this, I should NEVER have told you I work here!!" Anita was angry and hostile, not because she was 'caught' or anything like that. But that I was bothering her by being here, I was a nuisance.

"Anita, I love you." I handed her the most important paper that will ever be in my life. With a look of distaste she unfolded it and read.

My Dear Anita 

your heart, your soul, are not for me
just let me be near enough to see
each day your beauty, your quiet smile
make my life, my journey all worthwhile
let me hold you from storms and cold
protect your dreams until we grow old
a lifetime's kindness, to be together
my love for you will last forever
without you dear, there is no life
say to me you will be my wife

* Tom

She looked at me like I was an embarrassing dog that won't go away.

"You just don't get it do you? I like to hang out with you sometimes, that's all."

"Anita come on, I'll take you home."

"Fuck no! What the hell does it take to get through to you?" Then she turned her attention back to the men around her. She picked out a very tall, very large black man with a pot belly. "You got 50 bucks mister? You want a private dance?"

He had not been one of those waving cash in front of her. He placed his hand on his back pocket and looked up a moment in thought. "I got about 20 bucks." He said in a rough voice. Anita had caught him by surprise, choosing him out of the crowd.

"That will be fine." Grabbed his hand, and led him to the back of the club. As she began moving she crooked a finger at me.

"Come see your baby, come and watch your sweetheart."

The back room was on the verge of collapse. The plaster had flaked near completely off the walls, baring gray concrete blocks and termite riddled wood. The floor had once been tiled, but the tiles were gone, come loose with age years ago. The hard floor was a filthy, tacky mess. It stunk of urine and feces back here. The lighting was three bare light bulbs hanging on seperate steel cords from the ceiling. The light was harsh and bright. The roof had many holes, certainly the rain would pour in on a rainy night. There were no peeking Tom's up there, for there was no way the roof would support the weight of a person.

The small back room, the size of a bathroom really (and evidently often used as one), was furnished with two plain arm less wood chairs, and a sink blackened with age. A host of very large cockroaches congregated over most of the sink.

Anita pushed me into one chair, then coaxed the much taller and larger black man into the other. My poem she had already crumpled into a ball. Looking at me she tossed it into a deep pool of urine on the floor. The paper quickly soaked through, becoming spongy and yellow.

"Yo, what's with this guy watching?" The black man asked.

Anita undid the tie in front and pulled open her robe. She was wearing a lacy red bra and matching G-string underwear. "Would you rather leave?" She replied. Her oversized dark orbs bulged from the sexy bra. Her thin washboard belly receded inwards underneath her ribcage, diving down to her tight hips. So shapely and slender was her lower abdomen that the panty straps circling her hips actually lost touch with her young soft skin briefly just inside her hip bones before regaining contact nearer her vagina.

"Fuck no. Hell, make a video if you want!"

"Anita, you don't have to do this thing. I want you to marry me. We won't be rich but we'll be okay with money."

"Shut Up."

"Yeah Shut Up Man! The girl is Working!"

Anita moved back and forth in her high heels. Stepping between crawling cockroaches (large enough to possibly trip her over if she stepped into one) and small piles of refuse. Under the glare of the overhanging bulbs, Anita dropped the robe from her body. She tossed it into the corner with the least crud and garbage, though roaches could immediately be seen to be moving around beneath it. The ebon beauty began a seductive striptease dance. Swaying. Rubbing her hands across her firm tummy, then along her hips. Then bending forward to run her hands along the outside and then inside of her thighs. Bending towards her John, letting her breasts hang forward like ripe melons on a tree.

She licked her lips. Standing back upright, she brought her hands up to massage and squeeze her tits through her lacy bra. Pushing them up, her tongue snaked out. Further and further her moist tongue protruded, incredibly long! Then she began wetly swabbing the tops of her tit flesh. Licking herself.

I was hard in my Docker's khakis. The other dude was tenting his super wide extra extra sized jeans.

Anita reached behind and unclasped her bra, keeping it in place by holding her arms to her sides. She leaned over her seated customer.

The bra was losing ground no matter how tightly she kept her biceps against her ribcage. The mammoth black chest pushing to freedom. She moved her bosom down toward the large negro's face, opening her mouth in indication for him to do the same. She then placed her front bra strap into his mouth and closed her mouth and he closed his. With a smile she slowly pulled up, so that his clenched teeth slowly pulled the bra off of her. Her twin black mammaries rose like two soft, smooth volleyballs. Then the bra fell to the ground.

The black man wrapped sinewy arms around her, pulling her chest to his hungry mouth. Anita let out a surprised laugh. Every John would do different things. When he began to painfully bite her tit flesh, cruelly twisting her nipples in his teeth, she instantly wondered if the manager would keep his promise to help her if she cried out. The more she thought of all the times she overheard him make racist remarks about her when he thought she was not around, the more certain she was that she could be tortured and dismembered back here and he would never pay any mind. He wouldn't even clean up, probably sell tickets to see the 'massacred negro girl'.

Anita repeatedly gasped, and bit back on her cries of pain. Enough of her anguish escaped her lips to bring a smile to her assailant. She looked over at the short white man, who was what, 30, 31 years old? This negro would kick his ass into yesterday in a second. She would have to ride this one out. Tears soon fell from her eyes, again bringing a smile to him. Five minutes of tit torture (which seemed like an eternity) that would leave purple bite marks and bruises over much of her tit flesh, and it was over. Anita's chewed up nipples were swollen to twice the size that they had ever been.

Anita staggered a step back, trying to regain her composure. She moaned as she rubbed her pain wracked breasts. Putting on another great sexy show. Her squeezing fingers pressing dimples into the firm hard chest. I assumed this was all part of the regular act. I was still determined to prevent Anita from having sex with this guy. I wasn't really sure sex was part of the 'back room' treatment, and I certainly didn't believe that Anita would ever consider sex in a setting like this, and definitely not for money.

"Okay buddy, did you enjoy the show? Anita can we go somewhere and talk?"

Amazing. This stupid ass white motherfucker was like a brick. She answered by looking back at him as she dropped to her knees on the filthy floor, directly in front of the seated black man. The sticky, cruddy floor pulled on the smooth skin of her legs as she positioned herself so that her face was in the negro's lap. A pair of four inch cockroaches crawled across her legs. Turning her attention forward, she unzipped his jeans. Then reached a young slender hand inside to pull out the black snake she wanted.

It was not fully hard. Actually soft and pliant in her hand. However it's black length was already 7 inches. An inch larger than my own at it's fullest extension. Anita was running her hand slowly up and down it's length. She turned towards me again and pursed her lips.

"So you love me so much." She was speaking in baby talk. "Do you want to give me a kiss? Huh?" Then she turned back to the black organ (keeping her eyes looking into my own eyes) and pressed her pursed lips against the shaft. A glint came to her face as she read my terrible pain from my face. With a smacking of lips, she completed the dick kiss. However, once she removed her red lips (I couldn't get over how different she looked in make up), she moved her pouty angelic face up to the head of the cock. Then again pressed her pursed red lips against the mushroom end. She again finished with a loud kissing sound.

Back to a normal voice now. "Hmmm, I love a great kisser."

Anita rubbed up and down the shaft with her soft palm, wrapping her fingers around the joystick. "Have you figured out why I picked this guy to start my night off?" Then she giggled as she gazed at the black member. As she pumped it, it grew harder and wider. It lengthened to 8 inches, then 9 inches. She squeezed it, it still had some softness, it wasn't full grown yet!

"You don't know anything about me. What I want. What I like. What I need. Why don't you just go home?"

How could she mean this? I thought that I was something special to her. Then she opened her mouth, and dropped her face down onto the stiffening black prick. Jesus! I couldn't believe it! The mushroom head disappeared between my love's stretching lips. She increased the tempo of her masturbating hand. Slurping and sucking sounds, Anita's cheeks drawing inwards in her efforts. A dreamy look came to her eyes, like she was savoring her favorite flavor ice cream.

The negro's reaction was immediate. He began squirming in his chair. Convulsing as her raspy tongue licked his sensitive cock head. "Oh shit, goddamn. Don't stop. Goddamn." Anita bobbed up and down on the tool. Recreating the feel of a vagina with her hot moist mouth, and furthering the sensation with her sucking action and licking tongue. In moments, he was growing larger. So abruptly, as if it was being inflated with an air hose. Wider, thicker. 10 inches long. Thicker. 11 inches long. Anita was reaching nearly halfway down the spear on her downward bobs, and began rotating her mouth so that she could bring her tongue more easily to bear on all sides of the penis. Turning her head clockwise then back, then counterclockwise and back.

Anita would squeeze the shaft from time to time. When it was so hard that there was no give (I could see the strain in her arm muscles and bare back) she knew it was at it's fullest glory. 11 inches, more than twice as thick as my own white dick. In fact the thick throbbing vein running along the underside of the cock was near the size of my cock. It was slightly curved, like a banana, upward towards his pot belly. Anita was trying to let her saliva run out her mouth, but the negro cock was so thick and wide that it was a tight seal pushing between her stretched lips. The large veins all over the cock were like speed bumps, creating slurping sounds whenever they passed in and out of Anita's face.

After about 10 minutes, Anita took her mouth from the cock. Letting her mouth open over the dick, she let flow a huge amount of saliva, which dripped heavily onto the cock. So that it's slickness glistened in the light.

"Where you think you goin' Bitch!" His strong hand grabbed Anita's head by her long hair, yanking her back down. Nearly breaking her neck with the violent pull. He stood as he placed his other hand on the back of Anita's head. Then plunged his black spear once more into her mouth. Now standing, he was in control. Pushing down hard on the back of her head and thrusting with his hips, the cock head rammed into the back of her mouth. The impact was painful. Anita gagged so loudly, that a few probably heard her back in the main room.

The negro was not happy that 4 inches of his meat had not yet enjoyed the wonderful sensations that awaited inside Anita's head. Her eyes bulged out significantly as the black man forced himself down into her throat. Inch by inch it sank out of view. In a minute it was in. Giving new meaning to the term deep throat. The cockhead reached down her throat, lodging between her collarbones. He began fucking her neck. Pulling out 4 inches then pushing back in. It became clear from the black girl's more and more frantic movements that her air had run out. So he would pull further back out after two more fuck strokes, well, maybe three. Oh, it felt so good. Just a fourth. And a fifth stroke.

Anita clasped her small hands onto the sides of the man's jeans. Feebly yanking and pulling on them. He held her face against him. Grinding her beautiful cheekbones into his brillo like pubic hair. Pressing his full balls against her chin.

Then he released her. With a few gasps she regained herself. Her giant chest riding over her expanding lungs with each breath. "Damn negro! You wanna kill me?" He shrugged and sat down, then patted his lap.

"Come here sugar." He said.

Anita moved over top him, placing her long sexy legs outside his. Spreading them wide to straddle the seated man. The 11 inch black veiny banana stood up. Raging hard, and covered with Anita's saliva. Again she paused to look over at me.

"So you want to marry me? Why don't you imagine me in my white wedding gown right now." Glancing down, she positioned herself over top the hard throbbing missile, and pulled the skimpy G-string out from in front of her shaved pussy.

"Am I in my wedding dress?" I nodded yes.

"What?"

"I said yes, yes you are."

The John was looking up at her and her young hot body, it was for sure this was some kind of psycho chick. What the hell, I'll fuck her brains out.

"Have you picked out my ring?"

"I've already bought it."

Another glance confirmed that the cock was near touching her swollen pussy lips. "Let's exchange vows right now, don't you want to? Watch real close now."

My tears were streaming now, and she saw. "Yes. Yes, I Do." Watching as she had asked.

"I Douughhhh!" Dropping down on the incredibly wide 11 inch cock with her body weight, it punched into her cunt. Knocking the air out of her. About 7 inches had penetrated the girl. So wide, more so than a soda can. Anita's mouth hung open and her eyes were scrunched shut. Then she pulled up, only to drop herself again. Now drawing her high heels off the floor as she fell upon it, impaling herself.

"AAghhhh! So good negro!" She gasped. A moments recovery. Then another drop onto the dick. She picked up her pace slowly but steadily. Also, she began to except more of it. 8 inches. A dozen more drops, then 9 inches.

She was bouncing passionately upon him now. Kicking herself up so that it nearly pulled out her pussy, then again taking her feet from the floor, slamming the cock into her. "Oh Negro! Ughh! Ughh! Negro!"

Her muscled legs worked hard to maintain the furious fuck pace. Clenching her calves with each upward movement, then her thighs as she held her legs in the air to maximize the dick thrust into her insides. Her massive black tits danced and swayed mightily.

"Aagh! Uh! Uah!"

A glaze came to Anita's eyes. The kind, intelligent spark that I had seen and loved in her young almond shaped eyes, seemed to be being drained out her by the monstrous log pummeling up between her legs. What remained was a bestial, grunting animal. Her eyes lost and unfocused, her senses transferred to her jack hammer fucking. She placed her arms around her black John's massive shoulders. He then grabbed hold her huge tits with his powerful hands. Pulling down hard on them with each down stroke, adding his immense strength to her body weight to crash his cock harder and harder into her. 10 inches deep. Then finally, 11 inches. Each stroke encompassing the entire black cock.




Black Lover Girl



"Oh god fucking negro! Aghhh! Uh!"

The two blacks fucked, straining into each other. Veins puffed out on Anita's neck and the black John's forehead. Their grunting became more and more the sounds of wild animals coupling. The constant slapping of their pelvis's smacking then grinding together.

"Ah! Ughh! Yes! Deeper! Ah! So hard baby! AGHH!!!"

Anita shrieked. Pushed to orgasm, then beyond. She convulsed for what seemed like 15 minutes on top of the black stick. Her juicy cum squirting out the sides of her pussy. Their violent fucking now sounding with loud slurping sounds along with the constant slapping of flesh on flesh.

A couple minutes later, it was the black man's turn to roll his eyes back.

"Ah! Girl! Ughh! You're my little negro! I'm coming!"

Anita had felt the increasing tremble of the negro's cock. Then expertly dismounted, seizing the member in her black hand. Pumping it furiously. It was slick with her juice. She moved her face about 6 inches from the cockhead, opening her mouth wide to stick out her tongue. As the John's eyes were rolling around, she looked over at me, to share the moment with me.

She had aimed carefully. The big gob of thick semen streamed straight into her waiting mouth. The tail of it falling across her tongue. She continued her pumping of the greasy cock shaft. As the second shot flew into her mouth, Anita smiled warmly at me. She was not paying attention, and the third cum shot nearly missed her mouth. The big load splashed against the inside of her left cheek. He was still cuming forcefully. The fourth jet didn't quite shoot as far, splashing into her chin. Covering her chin entirely in a sheet of white cum. Some of the fourth shot had landed on the very edge of her tongue. There it hung thickly, threatening to drip, but not dropping. The white semen hung from her chin in a half dozen thick strands, which did not break or drip, but hung there like ornaments.

Anita moved her mouth closer, to catch the rest of the ejaculation. The man was now focusing on Anita, so she returned his stare. So that she was looking into his eyes as his load continued to spurt into her open mouth. She was now about 2 inches from his dick, and moved so that his cock was higher than her mouth. Three more spurts flew into her mouth. The expulsion velocity had lessened, but not the quantity. Big load after big load fired onto her pallet.

Nearing a dozen cum spurts, Anita moved her hand up to the mushroom head. Masturbating the end and tip of the cock as fast as she could to syphon out every drop. The thick cum syrup was now running from the cum slot. Anita held her mouth so that it dripped down into her mouth. Then she plunged the cock into her mouth, bobbing quickly over the head. Licking the head and sucking hard, her cheeks drawing inwards. She was rewarded with four more hot cum shots directly onto her warm mouth. She never took her eyes away from her black John's eyes.

She held the convulsing mushroom in her mouth for a minute. Then let it out with a loud 'pop'. She rose up further on her knees, to rub the greasy cock against her tits. Transferring the large quantity of her cum and his own from his happy penis to her big black breasts. While doing this she opened her young face, showing him the great quantity of his spunk she held. Sticking her tongue in and out. Letting it submerge in the goo when her tongue retreated into her mouth, then being coated with his sex slime when she stuck it out. She giggled like the child she was inside.

Then with a glance at me, she began to swallow it. It took three loud gulps for her to be finished. Both of us watched her throat convulse, knowing that each time a large amount of cum traveled from her mouth, down her slender neck, into her belly. Then she stood from her John. The cum had begun to drip from her chin onto her black tits. There it ran slowly into the goop she had rubbed onto herself from the black man's cock. She smiled and rubbed the sperm into her tit flesh. She stood right in front of him so that he could watch. Slowly, luxuriously, she massaged his slick cream into her young chest.

After a few minutes, Anita changed the subject. "Okay mister, my 20 bucks. I gotta get going here."

This made him upset for reasons known only to him. He grabbed Anita by the arm, spinning her around.

"Hey!"

Then pushed her down to her hands and knees. His 20 dollar bill was rolled up, and he jammed it up Anita's tight asshole.

"Agghhh! You fucking bastard!"

Using two fingers, he pushed it deep. Then stood and walked from the disgusting room.

It took Anita a minute to rise from the floor. She stood before me, topless in her high heels. Her G-string was still pulled to the side, the flimsy material not moving back in place. My dreams of a house, and a home with Anita. A family. It was all gone. She would never marry me, I knew. My life would never know happiness. My tears started anew.

Anita put her hands on her hips, and walked towards me. Her cum greasy tits swaying back and forth. Her chin still dripping into her cleavage. I was crying, I was an emotional mess.

"What the fuck are you still doing here, stupid asshole? Don't you have church or something tomorrow? I got about five more hours work here. GET THE HELL OUT! And don't come around my house or call or anything like that. I'm not going to see you again."

Then she noticed that my hand had been holding a 50 dollar bill. A quirky look came to her face.

I could always see her Saturday nights.



Black Lovers are Better



The year was 1888. My name is George Braun. At the time of this story, I was a young Black man traveling on horseback from Georgia to Boston, Massachusetts. Twenty years old, a strapping and muscular lad, that's who I was. I wasn't alone on this trip, folks. My father only let me go on the condition that I had suitable traveling companions. I picked two of the best men I knew to accompany me. I went visiting some family members across the country. It had been decades since the Civil War and although slavery was now illegal, the South was still filled with racist folks. We had been duly warned. I suppose it always will be. I was a young man from Boston and I knew to stand up for my rights no matter where I was in the world. 

Most of them Black folks down in Georgia weren't doing too well. They lived in poor, all-Black towns and villages. They still followed the ancient way of kowtowing to white folks. Especially wealthy Southerners. Men and women who expected the world to bow down to them because of what they happened to be born into. The way I see, race and sex are just accidents of birth and don't make one person better than another. Up North, decades after the Civil War, Black folks were working as miners, peacekeepers, soldiers, farmers and industrial workers. We owned our own homes, and many of us had our own businesses. 

Any way you looked at it, we were a people on the move. Going to better places. Out of slavery and into life as red-blooded Americans just like everybody else. Black men and Black women were doing alright in the North. Many of us had jobs during the Reconstruction Era and the skills we acquired stayed with us. We put them to good use by starting our own businesses. Black Northerners were ahead of Black Southerners by at least a decade. Yeah, we were leaving them in the dust. Maybe it's because the North saw the light and did away with slavery long before the South did. Oh, well. At this point, I was done with the South and all I wanted to do was go home to Boston where the world made sense.

My traveling companions were a pair of young Northerners. James Verde, a tall, somewhat chubby, chocolate-skinned fellow from Dorchester. His father Michael Verde owned a small store in South Boston and worked as a tailor. He did pretty well for himself, designing clothes worn by some of the city's most fashionable gentlemen and their lady friends. His mother Ellen Verde worked as a nurse at an institution for the mentally ill and the insane. I don't envy anyone who works in an asylum, surrounded by crazy people all day, but she made good money. Yeah, James came from good stock. Like me, he was a college man who wanted to accomplish great things in life. I love it when my people are smart and doing well.

My other companion was Alan Brown, a golden-skinned biracial brother. He was the son of a Black Civil War soldier and a white woman. Alan Brown's father Luther Brown was the minister of a fast-growing church in Boston. Many in our fair city saw him as a leader of the Black community. When I told Alan and James that I wanted to head down South to meet some family members, they were the ones who helped me raise the money. We traveled by train, and also by boat. When we got to the South, we bought some horses and used this mode of traveling to reach our destination, the fast-growing city of Atlanta. 

We had a lot of fun along the way. Why wouldn't we? Here we were, three young Black men from the North traveling through the post-Civil War South. Fortunately, we didn't run into much trouble. We didn't run into marauders, gangsters or Klansmen like some paranoid fool thought we would. Overall, the South was beautiful country. Densely populated, and a lot cleaner than any Northern cities will ever be. Still, so many of the folks down there were living in the past. Especially the Black folks. They were not exactly living up to their full potential as newly freed men and women. A world of opportunities opened up to them, yet most of them weren't taking advantage of it. They could learn trades, overcome obstacles and grow as individuals and as a community. Unfortunately, most of them had their heads in the clouds. Those who didn't were always whining about how unfair life was. I hate people who play victim and expect rewards for it. The world is a better place without them.

I was born the son of a freedman. My father raised me to never back down in front of anyone. I knew my worth as a young Black man and I would not allow anyone to make me feel inferior because of my roots. Kowtowing to any person was not in my nature. I tried my best to avoid trouble but you know there's always got to be some fool somewhere who thinks they can mess with you just for the hell of it. It happened one night. We had been riding all day and didn't feel like staying in the woods or the prairie. We decided to look for a hotel. When we got there, the clerk told us that they didn't take Black folks. I looked at the smirking clerk, a pasty-faced woman, and briefly considered many ways of removing that smirk from her face. I'd like to give her something to remember me by. My friends calmed me down and we walked out. We slept in the prairie and although it sucked, what with the cold and the bugs and all, I was glad that I didn't give one dime to any racist white woman or her stinking hotel. I had better use for my money.

My search for family members down South was not a good one. I mean, in those days, a lot of Black families were torn. So many sons and daughters had been separated from fathers and mothers by the Civil War. People had been fleeing from the South and moving up North. They had been chased by Southerners with guns. They didn't stay in any place for long. How in hell was I going to find any extended family members? If any kinfolk of mine survived in the South, I didn't find them. Without further ado, we decided to head home. The faster we got out of the hellish South, the better. 

Yeah, we had our fill of the South and wanted to go home. We had quite a dilemma. Having blown a good chunk of our money in the trip to the South, we were in danger of lacking enough funds to get out of it. To save money, we decided to ride horses rather than take the train, for as long as possible. It sounded like a good idea at the time. Yeah, right. The idea was Alan's, and he may have been sampling some Rum when he came up with it. One night, things took a turn for the worse. We were caught in the prairie during a thunderstorm. It was not a pleasant thing. So, we sought refuge at a nearby farm. The women farmers greeted us with odd stares. I bet they didn't run into well-dressed, traveling Black businessmen from the North too often. Oh, well. For whatever the reason, they agreed to let us stay. I told them that I was more than happy to buy my way but the Southerners lived up to their legendary hospitality and let us stay the night.

Me and my guys stayed in the barn. The farm was somewhat odd. For starters, where were the men? We had been greeted by the farmer's wife. A tall, plump, matronly woman with long blonde hair and pale green eyes. I'm guessing her age to be around forty five if a day. She had introduced herself as Miss Sylvia Hawthorne. There were two other women with her. A tall, heavyset, pretty-faced Black woman who was their servant. The Black woman called herself Nicole Jade. She looked at us with a mixture of curiosity and indifference. The other woman was Miss Sylvia's ward. A young lady whom she was distantly related to came to live with her after her parents perished. The war had taken the parents of this woman, who answered to the name Emily Johnson. 

Miss Johnson was kind enough to offer us some food, as well as some sheets for the night. Emily was plain of face, plump-bodied and rather ordinary-looking but made up for it by rather fine-bodied : Large-breasted, wide-hipped and big-bottomed. The young woman was in her twenties. Not someone I'd call beautiful but at her age, women were usually married. Oh, well. That's her problem and not mine. I noticed her looking at me funny. I was used to people looking at me, both men and women. I was a tall, good-looking young Black man. I had an athlete's body and an angelic face. Who could resist me? Back in Boston, I had lots of women. Black women, white women, and even a couple of Mexican chicks. Yeah, I was a real ladies man.

While eating some of the food she offered, I had a chat with Emily. She told me that she lost her father in the war. He was a confederate soldier. I nodded sympathetically, though I wasn't sorry. Confederate soldiers fought to keep Black people in chains. Emily told me that she hated the life of a farmer. She was originally from New York and she hated Georgia. Also, she dreamed of one day going to Boston to find herself an educated man to marry. Boston was still the city with the best colleges in the nation, even in those days. Lots of educated men and women moving about. Myself, I attended an educational institution in the Boston area. I was going to be a teacher. It was my dream one day to start an organization that would train teachers and send them to Black communities to teach my people how to read and write. Isn't that a wonderful dream?

I went on and on about my plans. I noticed Emily looking at me adoringly. Meanwhile, my pals Alan and James ate in silence. They had heard horror stories about white folks from the South and were polite but chilly when Emily asked them any questions. She gave up after the first try. I tossed Alan and James some whiskey. Those fellows needed to relax, seriously. I didn't trust people of any color or sex. Men and women were all evil in my book. Still, that's no excuse not to talk to them. We are a civilized country, after all. We're all Americans, aren't we? Outside the barn, the storm raged. The horses in the barn whined. Yeah, this place would be hell to spend the night in. oh, well. The faster we got out of the South, the better. I heard rumors about the Ku Klux Klan and what they did to Black people. Yeah, I needed to get back to Boston, where it's safe. With that in mind, I wished Emily a good night and went about trying to get some sleep.

Giving alcohol to people who aren't very bright to begin with is really not a good idea. Oh, and mixing alcohol with lust is not a good idea. I should have thought about that when I gave James and Alan the whiskey. When I woke up, there was a lot of noise all around me and it had nothing to do with the damn storm. I was alone in the barn. I went about trying to investigate. So, I went to the house and knocked on the door. A drunken Alan opened the door. Oh, and he was minus his pants! I looked at the brother, from head to toe. He was wearing only his shirt and had a bottle of Rum in one hand and someone's breast in the other. The person the breast belonged to was none other than Sylvia Hawthorne, the lady of the house and the whitest woman I'd ever seen. Oh, did I forget to mention that she was naked too? What in hell was going on? When I went to sleep, the world made sense. I left Alan and James sleeping in the hay of the barn. Now, they were in the house, drunk and partying with white women? Had the world gone mad? Sylvia Hawthorne smiled at me, then kissed Alan on the mouth before taking the bottle of alcohol from him. She gulped down a long draught then stroked Alan's cock gently. He grinned, then they went back inside. I came in, and what I saw further amazed me. It wasn't just Alan and Sylvia who were indulging themselves with alcohol and sex. James Verde was in it too, and he was getting busy with Nicole Jade.

I looked, and saw Nicole on all fours, as she was being taken from behind by James. He had one hand on her smooth brown buttocks, and the other was grasping a bottle of Rum. I looked at him, wide-eyed. He gave me an idiotic grin, then gulped down some more Rum before focusing on what he was doing. I looked at him, mesmerized. He and Nicole seemed to be having the time of their lives. They changed positions. Now, he lay on the wooden floor of the kitchen while she straddled him. I looked at this large, gorgeous woman as she began to ride him for all he was worth. As for James, he was shouting like an urban hooligan. He held Nicole by those fine, wide hips of hers and thrust his cock into her.

Nicole rested her hands on James shoulders and began riding him for all he was worth. I watched that voluptuous body of hers shaking and bouncing as she rode her lover to kingdom come. James grunted as he fucked her, hard. She screamed, loudly too. I've never heard a woman scream so loudly, not even in the best brothels of South Boston. Nicole and James did their thing, bucking wildly on the floor. I can't tell you who was the loudest. Truth be told, the sight of the two of them caused my cock to harden. It had been some time since I got laid, and I was starting to seriously miss the dames of Boston. It looks like the Southern femmes knew how to please a man too.

I watched, fixated and unable to move. Nearby, Alan and Sylvia were also sexually occupied. The mulatto brother lay on a conveniently placed pile of clothing on the floor, and his hard cock was sticking in the air. Sylvia Hawthorne knelt beside him, and she held his cock with both hands. Her large breasts seemed to thrust forward, moving in a very sexy manner. She leaned over, and took him into her mouth. Alan smiled and gently stroked the older woman's hair as she sucked on his peter. I watched Sylvia as her blonde head bobbed up and down on Alan's cock. He noticed me looking at him and gave me a wink, if you can believe that! I shook my head, not believing this. And they say Southerners opposed racial relations! looks like certain Southerners were doing just fine with integration. Above and beyond, I'd say.

I was so fixated upon watching all the sex going on that I didn't notice Emily Johnson sneaking up next to me. She startled me when she put her hand on my butt. I turned around, ready for whatever. Emily smiled at me. I noticed that she was also nearly naked, wearing some lady's undergarments. I grinned at her. She smiled at me and came closer, kissing me on the lips. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and tobacco. Emily's surprisingly quick hands went from my butt to my crotch. She noticed how hard I was, then smiled. She patted my groin, and grinned wickedly. I saw the look of lust in her eyes, and knew exactly what she wanted. This woman wanted to feel my Black Man Power. 

I looked at her. Emily was something else. A voluptuous dame of the South who offered herself to me. She might not have been most people's ideal of a great beauty but she looked good to me. I took her hand, and we went back to the barn. Laughing and giggling, we undressed. I looked at her in all of her naked glory. Her plump, fine body beckoned me. Tentatively, I touched her. Her face, her neck, her chest and finally, my hands firmly cupped her smooth, round bottom. She let out her breath, and gasped as my hands slipped between her legs. My fingers slid into her, and I felt warmth inside her tight crevice. Her hand lay on top of mine, and she held me there. Without a word, we fell on the hay, giving way to our passions. I climbed on top of Emily, feeling her soft, wondrous body underneath mine. She wrapped her arms around me and spread her legs, welcoming me inside her. Looking right into her eyes, I thrust into her. My first sensation was one of warmth and tightness. Emily did not scream as I thrust into her but softly gasped. I smiled, and continued. My length and girth often have that effect on the women I bring to my bed. I placed my hands on her hips, and continued fucking her. Emily held me tightly, and urged me on. Harder and faster, she pleaded. And so I stepped it up. I thrust harder and faster into her snatch, loving the feel of it around my cock. We went at it, romping happily like there was no tomorrow. 

Emily climbed on top of me, and I held her by the waist, she began to ride me for all I was worth. I thrust into her snatch and looked into her face as I fucked her. Laughing wildly, Emily continued to ride me. We acquired a nice, easy rhythm as our passionate tryst continued until our sweat-soaked bodies lay side by side in the way. I slowly let out my breath. Emily looked at me, and grinned wickedly. I rolled my eyes. This wild woman was still not done with me. We tried yet another sexual position. I looked at her fine bottom, and a delightfully wicked idea sprang to mind. I rubbed myself against her suggestively. Emily turned around, and looked me straight in the eye. She smiled naughtily. Yeah, she knew what I wanted. She said nothing, but rubbed my cock before gently pushing her sexy butt against my groin.

Grasping her butt cheeks, I spread them wide open. I spat in my hand and, taking the spittle, rubbed it against her tiny back door. Slowly, inch by inch, I guided my cock into her ass. Emily did not make a sound as I entered her. I took my sweet time with it. Although I've been with many women in my day, this would be a first for me. My first time experiencing anal sex. My first time penetrating a woman's back door. It was fabulous! Grasping Emily's hips with hands almost trembling with excitement, I leaned forward and thrust into her. My first sensation upon penetrating her was once again one of warmth and tightness, albeit one far more intense than I'd ever experienced before. With my cock lodged up Emily's ass, I could feel her blood pulsating through her body. I held her in my arms, feeling her shaking under the force of my thrusts and hearing gasps and moans and sometimes outright screams emanating from her mouth. It was the most intense thing I'd ever felt. When I came inside her, I think I actually saw the stars. Emily did not scream, but her body trembled. I held her tightly until the moment passed.

Afterwards, Emily and I lay on the hay, without speaking. There was nothing to be said. We had a passionate tryst, but now it was over. When morning came, she was gone. I got up and looked for her. When I saw her, she was once again properly attired as the dutiful Southern lady that she was. I looked her in the eye, and saw that the passionate dame who rolled around in the hay with me was gone. The other women of the house seemed to be in prim and proper attire as well, nothing like the sexual banshees and wondrous nymphs my companions and I bedded the night before. It was almost as if the light of day made them feel ashamed of their recent nocturnal activities. I thought about it, and experienced one of those oh-I-get-it-now moments. These prim and proper, lily-white Southern ladies couldn't have the world know that they lusted after the bodies of gorgeous Black men such as myself and my companions. Although they screamed our names passionately last night, in the morning, they were cold as ice. In fact, in no uncertain terms, they asked us to leave. Well, we didn't want to linger anyway. I found Alan and James well-rested, dressed for travel with beaming smiles on their faces. I wasn't the only one who had a hot night! Thus, we took our leave of the farm. We rode off into the sunset, and never looked back. 

When I got back to Boston, I was greeted by my father. I told him and the rest of the family all about my travels. All the things I had seen and done. Our exploits in the South became the stuff of legends in the small Black community of Boston. When I do look back on my experiences from time to time, I tend to smile. All human beings have an animal side deep inside them. It's just waiting to get out. We're all slaves to passion at the end of day, man and woman alike. It's not something that will change anytime soon. Men are men. Women are women. Regardless of race, we're all the same underneath it all. Slaves to our passions, no matter what they may be. Accept that, because it's the simple truth. What was true in my time is also true in yours. Farewell, folks.