"Trevor Villeneuve, what the fuck are you looking at, pervert?" came a shrill feminine voice, interrupting me as I sat at a computer on a remote corner of the Learning Commons sector in the Carleton University library. There I was, discretely watching porn instead of working on my assignment for my Surveying And Graphics class. I'm in the civil engineering program, you see, and after hours of research, I needed a bit of relaxation...hence the discrete X-rated video viewing.
I immediately tried to close the video I was viewing, but for some reason, in my haste I clicked the wrong button, and instead of closing the X-rated video, I made it bigger. I was quite nervous and being caught by surprise didn't help. The person who caught me was definitely the last person on earth whom I wanted to see. It's funny how those things happen...
"Oh shit, Marguerite, it's not what it looks like," I replied sheepishly, and I fumbled with the keys for a moment before I managed to click out of the video. I'd been so engrossed in watching the video of African-American porn icon Kitten fucking the hell out of a black dude with a strap-on dildo that I'd apparently forgotten where I was, and got caught.
I'm really into BDSM, and as a young black man with a fondness for that stuff, I lament the fact that you seldom see black men and black women playing together in those steamy online videos. It's almost as if black men and black women in the world of BDSM are allergic to each other or something. Weird, eh?
That's why I was pleasantly surprised to see Kitten, one of my favorite porn stars, dominate the hell out of a dark-skinned brother in a super-cool scene where she fucked his ass with a strap-on, right in the swimming pool. I found the video completely by accident. I was looking for black pegging and black female domination stuff online, and voila! Damn, that scene turned me so much that I got a serious boner.
"Damn, Trevor, so that's what you're doing when you're supposed to be studying for midterms, huh?" Marguerite said, and she grabbed a chair and sat her big ass down. I looked at her, suddenly wishing I were a thousand miles away. Seriously, I'd rather be caught watching porn by library staff than this uptight bitch. Marguerite and I go to church together, and she's always moralizing and bossing people around. I hate it when she does that shit!
"Um, Marguerite, I was watching the video for, well, research purposes, for my human sexuality class," I said to Marguerite, who smirked. Yes, I managed to say this with a straight face. Marguerite looked at me, and I could tell that the tall, dark-skinned and voluptuous sister with the big ass and the seemingly permanent resting bitch face wasn't buying what I was selling. The question is, how do I get her annoying and nosy ass to get the hell away from me?
"So, you like watching black women dominating brothers, eh?" Marguerite asked, and she licked her lips and looked at me expectantly. For some reason, when Marguerite licked her lips while sitting so close to me that I could smell her damn perfume, my dick got hard. Fellas, I'm sure you've had erections in the most inappropriate places. Try getting one in front of the nosy chick who just caught you watching porn and intends to bust your balls about it. Yeah, feel my pain!
What's a brother to do when he's caught red-handed? I made a show of fixing the cuffs of my long-sleeved red silk shirt, and pulled my black leather jacket on my lap, effectively concealing the boner brought forth Marguerite's constant licking of her full lips with her rather long tongue. Seriously, this sister's tongue was way longer than any normal woman's tongue had any business being.
Why am I so neurotic and awkward when it comes to my sexuality? Too many reasons to list here, but I'll try to explain. Folks, I'm a twenty-year-old guy raised by uptight and religious Haitian immigrant parents. My father Faustin Villeneuve is the pastor of the church which Marguerite and I attend. And my mother Elaine Jean-Villeneuve works for the Canadian Christian Council. Yes, I'm a repressed lad. Please don't judge me.
"Yes, Marguerite, I like this stuff," I said, and I don't know who was more surprised by my words, Marguerite or myself. She looked at me, and then leaned back in her chair, an unreadable expression on her face. I shrugged, and looked at Marguerite without saying anything. Seriously, I don't mean to be rude or anything but what is this chick waiting for? Beat it, lady. That's what I wanted to say, but like the overly polite Haitian that I am, I kept my mouth shut.
Marguerite kept looking at me, something I found unnerving, but I kept my cool. I decided to act as though Miss Thing ( Marguerite's nickname among the members of our church ) wasn't there. I reopened my Microsoft Word document, which I hadn't typed anything into for the past twenty minutes or so. I had eighty percent of the assignment done already, but it was due on C.U. Learn, the school's website, in less than twenty four hours. Got to hustle, you know?
"Trevor, look at me when I'm talking to you," Marguerite said, and she laid her hand on mine, a bit forcefully, I might add. I rested my glasses on the bridge of my nose, and turned to look at her. Marguerite uncrossed her legs, and I found myself almost distracted by her thick, dark thighs. The black leather skirt Marguerite had on suited her body right, as did the black leather jacket and the bright red tank top. Hmm, for a church gal, Marguerite certainly dressed provocatively.
"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked Marguerite, and that's when she smiled, and a dangerous, almost seductive light crept into her brown eyes. Marguerite Mathieu, Carleton University student, humanitarian activist, supporter of Black Lives Matter, and church diva, always reminded me of Jill Scott, my favorite singer. Marguerite drew her chair closer to mine, and got all up in my personal space, as they say. I held my breath as Marguerite's face drew closer to mine.
"If you must know, Trevor, I came from a local munch for BDSM enthusiasts, the stuff you watch online while jerking your dick, I do it for real, I'm in the lifestyle," Marguerite said boldly, her eyes locked with mine. I sighed deeply, as I processed her revelations. Seriously, if lightning had struck me right then and there, I wouldn't have been more shocked.
"Good to know, Marguerite, are you a dominant, a submissive, or a switch?" I asked, and Marguerite grinned, seemingly pleased by my reaction. Marguerite drew closer to me, and then gently laid her hand on my thigh. I looked at her nervously, but willed myself to be calm. Truth be told, I found Marguerite's behavior forward as hell, but I kept my poker face, as they say...
"I'm a dominant, my dear, I like to spank brothers, among other things," Marguerite said in a deliberately sultry voice, and in spite of myself, I found myself turned on. Seriously, if someone told me a few days prior that I would find myself attracted to Marguerite Mathieu, the moralizing, bossy and pushy church diva that a lot of brothers at church and at school found off-putting, I would have laughed. Life is funny like that, eh?
"I'm a sub," I finally said without fear or shame, and Marguerite looked me up and down, and nodded. The voluptuous Haitian diva drew closer to me, totally getting into my personal space, but this time, I did not mind. I looked at Marguerite, fascinated. In my mind, I tried to reconcile the implications of her recent revelations with the image I had of her in my mind, that of the boring church gal always correcting people and trying to recruit them for activities, someone whom I preferred to avoid.
"Only a strong black man could admit this to himself, and to a black woman, I'm pleased to know you, Trevor," Marguerite said, and the lady held out her hand, which I shook. We left the third floor of the library and headed downstairs. For the next hour or so, while sipping on coffee at the in-library Starbucks, Marguerite and I talked about...everything.
"Not surprised that you're a dominatrix, you're bossy as hell at church," I said, laughing, and Marguerite grinned and shrugged. It occurred to me that there were so many sides to this lovely, fearless young Haitian woman whom I thought I knew. Marguerite Mathieu was full of surprises, and I for one was determined to unravel her mysteries. Also, she's frigging hot, alright? There, I admit it!
"Trevor, my dear, there is a certain order of things, I've always understood that, people need structure and discipline, it makes things run much smoother," Marguerite said, leaning back on the comfortable leather couch at the back of the Starbucks. At this hour, the place was almost empty. Just a couple of patrons beside ourselves. And that's how I liked it.
"At least you're comfortable with what you are, I'm turned on by black female dominance, and sometimes wonder if it makes me less of a black man," I said, a bit surprised at myself for admitting to Marguerite something I'd been struggling with for so long. Marguerite looked at me, and her brown eyes were filled with sympathy. I didn't know what to make of it.
"Trevor, you're a beautiful black man who likes strong black women, if we had many more like you, the world would be a better place," Marguerite said, and there was a dazzling smile on her lovely face. I looked at her, and found myself enchanted to be in her presence. Clearly I did not know Marguerite as well as I thought I did. Hmm. I wonder what else she's got in store for me...
"Alright, confession time? When you used to shush me in church and drag me to those Sunday school sessions? I liked it," I admitted, and Marguerite laughed out loud. A few people in the Starbucks turned to look at us, both patrons and staff, but we ignored them. I looked at Marguerite, fascinated by the lovely and fearless young black woman before me. And I realized that I wanted her...
