Black On Black Pegging 4 Couples

Look, I know what people are going to say. They're going to say that I'm deluded. However, I see myself as a thinking woman with a proactive approach to life's problems. My name is Shamika Dawson. At five-foot-seven and one hundred and eighty pounds of curvy, jet-Black, busty and big-bottomed Black womanhood, I think I'm alright. This story's feisty heroine was born and raised in the City of Detroit, Michigan. The life of an African-American woman is seldom easy, and in this recession the fight for survival has gotten tougher. I recently graduated from University of Detroit Mercy with a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice. My next stop will be Wayne State University's School of Law. I want to become a lawyer someday and make my mark upon the world. Like many of my sisters, I ponder the dilemma of the supposedly undereducated Black male and what it means to me as a heterosexual Black woman who happens to be fond of the chocolate brothers.

A lot of the sisters at the University of Detroit Mercy are dating White men, and that's fine by me. I just don't think it's for me. In my experience with White men, they feel threatened by anyone who doesn't look like them and happens to have a mind of their own. And they're far more violent than Black men could ever be, no matter what the criminologists tell you. The City of Detroit is a very violent place and we see all kinds around here. There's been racial clashes between gangs of Latino guys and Black men here. And yes, even in this predominantly African-American metropolis, there are White supremacists and skinheads. My neighbor Nancy Chang was a beautiful Asian-American woman whose family moved to the Bagley neighborhood of Detroit from the region of Shanghai, China, a while back. Interestingly, although she barely looked a shade darker than the average Chinese woman, Nancy was biracial. Born to an African-American father and a Chinese mother. Her father was in the U.S. Army back in the day and met her mother while visiting the region of Shanghai, China. How cool is that?

I knew Nancy at University of Detroit Mercy. I was a bridesmaid at her wedding to Todd Sands, a handsome Irish-American lawyer from Boston, Massachusetts. They seemed like a perfect couple. Nancy was studying for her doctorates in civil engineering at University of Detroit Mercy and she had a high-paying job as a contractor with City Hall. During the recession, Todd Sands lost his job. That put a big strain on their marriage, especially since Nancy became the sole breadwinner. After six months without a job, Todd Sands came home one night and shot Nancy before turning the gun on himself. I was shocked, to tell you the truth. Nancy had scores of African-American lady friends at the University of Detroit Mercy. She wasn't like some of the other Chinese people I knew in Detroit. They seemed to worship White folks and despise Black people. At Nancy's funeral, I saw several of my African-American female classmates with their White boyfriends. My sisters were quite emotional but their men just stood there, looking bored, annoyed or simply emotionless. White men. So many of my sisters see them as knights in shining armor. They seem perfect. Until they kill you. Small wonder they make up ninety nine point nine percent of all serial killers. Give me a Black man any day, with all of his infuriating flaws. At least he won't kill me in the middle of the night. If he tires of me, he'll just leave.

The death of Nancy shook me hard, but it also made me realize how short and precious life really is. A few months ago, I was really envious of Nancy. She was finally getting her doctorate's in civil engineering from the University of Detroit Mercy. And she had a husband who practiced law. How lucky she seemed in my eyes. This lovely young woman born of an African-American father and Chinese mother. My vivacious sister-friend. Gone forever because of a murderous, egotistical White male who couldn't stand the fact that his minority wife was the breadwinner while he was laid off. Talk about having a fragile ego. What a loser! I vowed to always be careful with who I let into my life. I didn't want to end up like Nancy. Yeah, I was armed with a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice from the University of Detroit Mercy. That's all fine and good. What's a sister to do with that during the worst recession to hit America since Hoover? These days, even White people have trouble finding jobs. You really think the lily-White leaders of the business world are going to hire someone who looks like me? Fat chance.

I decided to take a trip, just to enliven my spirits. I went to visit my parents in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I've only been to Canada twice. My parents, Hawthorne and Leanne Dawson recently retired. They sold their house in Detroit, Michigan, and moved to Ottawa, Ontario. Apparently real-estate is really cheap in that region of Canada and they bought the house at a time when the U.S. dollar was still strong. My parents joined the legions of Americans living and working in Canada. They opened up a small bookstore in downtown Ottawa, staying active while enjoying their retirement. I'm so happy for them. My mom worked for the Detroit City Library for twenty six years and my father was a corrections officer with the Michigan State Department of Corrections for thirty years. If you ask me, they deserve their retirement. I was so happy to see mom and dad again. I didn't tell them that I took a job as a librarian's assistant at Wayne Community College in Detroit because I couldn't find a job in my field and Wayne State University's School of Law was so expensive that attending it was starting to look like a pipe dream.

While visiting my parents, I met someone who changed my life forever. Kwame Adebomi. A six-foot-tall, good-looking young Black man built like a college football player. He came from the City of Lagos in the Republic of Nigeria, and had been in Canada for eight years at the time we met. Kwame Adebomi was a student at Carleton University's Faculty of Engineering and Design. And he was one of my parents new friends. He lived in the same neighborhood they did, and volunteered to help them with certain household chores and also to keep them company. Kwame Abebomi was an orphan. He was raised in Canada by a gay White woman named Muriel Henriksen, a friend of his parents from their school days in the United Kingdom. His biological parents, Adejola and Abejide Adebomi died during a clash between Muslims and Christians in Nigeria's coastal cities. Apparently, religion was a big problem down there. Kwame was raised Catholic and had a profound dislike of Muslims after the death of his parents. I found that quite puzzling. Like most people in the United States of America, I was somewhat wary of Muslims after the events of September 11, 2001 but I refused to put them all in the same boat. I'm sure most of them are decent, law-abiding people and it's only a few radicals among them who make the rest of them look bad. I sincerely hope I'm right on this. Kwame was a roughly handsome young Black man with a deep voice. He reminded me of the Black guy from the movie Underworld. The tough-looking werewolf who backed up the Lucien character. Kwame was cute, but I was only staying in Canada for three weeks. I refused to let anything happen between us.

Which probably explains why we fell in love over only three weeks. Kwame was determined to show me the wonders of Canada. After two days in Ottawa, I was bored as hell. I hate government towns. They're so dull, boring and conservative. Kwame took me to Toronto, which was so big, beautiful and racially diverse that I forgot I was in Canada. Toronto's City Hall building looked like something out of a futuristic science fiction movie. Wow. Kwame was very patient, charming and witty as he escorted me throughout the town. He seemed to know everybody. He had Hispanic, Asian, White and Aboriginal friends. He told me he did a lot of volunteering, especially at the local AIDs clinic. I raised my eyebrows at that. Kwame proudly told me that he tested negative for his last STI test a month ago. Good to hear, though I didn't need to know all that. The last time I got laid, they were still offering cash for clunkers in the States. I'm STI-free, since I was negative last time I checked and haven't gotten fucked since. Of course, I didn't tell Kwame all that. The guy was a smooth operator who got us into the nicest restaurants. And he paid for everything with his Royal Bank of Canada credit card. He refused to let me pay for anything with my Bank of America credit card. However, when I bought him a bright red silk shirt inside a store called Bench, he accepted it. He tried it on and it was a perfect fit. I found myself amazed at how handsome Kwame was. Hot damn. If all the men look like him in Nigeria, I'm moving my ass there!

After being wined and dined by Kwame for three weeks, I found myself smitten with him. However, it was time for me to go back to Detroit. I liked so many things about Kwame. Here was a tall, good-looking and educated Black man who was healthy, single and loved Black women. So what if he's Nigerian-Canadian instead of African-American? A Black man is a Black man! He was law-abiding, and good to his mama. He introduced me to Muriel, the gay White woman who raised him. She's such a nice, sweet lady. Kind of butch, too. Apparently, she's the one who thought Kwame how to play rugby. Imagine that! I'm an African-American woman falling in love with the Nigerian-born adopted son of a gay White woman from the United Kingdom living in the Capital region of Canada. Now you've heard everything! What was I to do? Kwame made things easy for me. He told me he always wanted to visit America. He'd lived in London, England, and Ottawa, Ontario, for a good portion of his life. He wanted to see America. Since July 2011 was winding down, I figured I would show him a few places in Detroit and have him back in Ottawa safe and sound in a few days. We left for Detroit, Michigan, from the Ottawa International Airport with my parents blessing. We were just friends, I told myself. Good friends traveling together.

While on the plane, Kwame fell asleep on my shoulder. A fifty-something Black female flight attendant smiled at me and told me we made a cute couple. I smiled sheepishly. We were just friends. Well, I was crushing on him big-time and I knew he liked me but....oh, well. As soon as we landed in Detroit, things got complicated. Where would Kwame stay? I lived in a one-bedroom apartment complete with a kitchen, a small living room and a bathroom. I couldn't condemn Kwame to my couch. When he whipped out his Royal Bank of Canada credit card and asked me for directions to a hotel, I had to stop him. I heard myself tell him that we would share my bed. Platonically, of course. Of course. When night fell, stuff kind of happened. Um, nothing went as planned. Damn it. I did it again. First time I brought a brother to my spot I slept with him.

Kwame likes to sleep completely in the nude, which wouldn't be a problem for me ( I'm not a prude) if he wasn't built like an athlete, and oh my gosh did this man had a big dick! He assured me he would be a gentleman and he slept facing away from me. I kept the light on as I read a Zane book, which did nothing to quiet my desires for his masculine flesh. Oh, and his sexy ass stared at me like a pendulum of temptation. Until finally I gave it a nice squeeze. Kwame shuddered. I froze. Did I do something wrong? When he didn't react, I continued fondling his sexy ass. Soon I was kissing his back, his shoulders and his neck. Kwame moaned and leaned into me. It soon became evident to me that this sexy man liked his ass played with. That's okay because the male ass is one of my favorite things in this world. I kissed Kwame's smooth, clean-smelling ass and gently bit it. Then I reached for his big cock and balls, fondling them. Kwame moaned but said nothing. While stroking his cock, my finger slipped into his ass. A sharp cry escaped his lips and I froze. When he didn't say anything, I continued fingering his warm and tight asshole. I just love playing with male asses. They're so smooth and sexy. Hmmm.

We really got into it. I began pumping Kwame's cock with my hand while thrusting two fingers up his ass. I couldn't believe this amazingly sexy Black man was letting me play with his ass on our first time together. The harder I fucked him with my fingers, the tighter his ass got and the more he moaned. I pinched his nipples, and played with his chest hairs. Kwame looked at me with a bewildered look on his handsome face. I kissed him full and deep, sticking my tongue down his throat. Meanwhile, I shoved my fingers deeper into his ass. I was on top of him, with my tongue down his throat and my fingers in his ass. Hmm. My pussy was all wet and dying to get fucked. I did something I never did. Fuck, in the heat of the moment I grabbed Kwame's cock and aimed it at my pussy. Grimacing, he told me he didn't have a condom. I lied and told him I was on the pill. Look, I'm not crazy. I've got the morning after pill in my medicine cabinet. I'm going to take it right after we fuck. Kwame didn't totally buy what I was selling. Too bad because I'm horny. He seemed to hesitate. I forced him down, and thrust his manhood inside of me. I licked my lips as Kwame's big cock filled me up.

Just like that, I started riding my man for all he was worth. Kwame tore that pussy up, folks. The Nigerian-Canadian stud slammed his thick, veiny cock up my pussy like fucking was going out of style. I rode him hard, squealing as I impaled myself on his dick. Kwame talked dirty to me, smacking my ass and pinching my tits as he fucked me. We fucked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. For the first time in my life, I got to experience what it felt like to have a man cum inside of me. And it was beautiful, man. Everything I could hope for and more. Kwame and I lay side by side, spent. I looked at that fabulous ass of his. I smiled. He cocked an eyebrow. I asked him if he wanted to try something new. Kwame was down for whatever at this point. However, when I pulled my strap-on dildo from my drawer, he gasped. I had to really sweet talk him into it. He was quite hesitant. I guess it's one thing to take fingers up your ass during oral sex and quite a different thing to get a dildo shoved up your ass. Which is what I wanted to do to him this very night. Like I said, I had to sweet talk him into it. No, taking a dildo up your ass doesn't make you gay or bisexual. Lots of heterosexual men are into it. No, I won't think any less of you for trying this. Wink. Yup, he fell for it.

Finally, I had Kwame right where I wanted him. On his back, legs in the air. I greased up his ass with some hand lotion, then rubbed the business end of the dildo against his asshole. Gently, I pushed it inside of him. Kwame trembled as I penetrated him. I asked him if he was okay and he nodded. Gently, I worked my dildo inside of him. Kwame stroked his dick, which hardened as I pushed my dildo deeper into his asshole. Clearly, the macho Nigerian was enjoying himself as he got fucked in the ass by this sexy African-American sister. He seemed to be getting used to having a dildo in his ass. I began to fuck him a bit harder, just to see how much he could take. Although he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound, I could tell he was close to breaking point as I sank the dildo deeper into his asshole. Finally, Kwame let out a deep, almost primal scream. How I loved that sound. I leaned closer and kissed him while keeping my dildo in his ass without moving it. I locked eyes with Kwame and asked him how he felt. He sighed, and his lips trembled. Gently I pulled my dildo out of his asshole.

Finally free and clear, Kwame sighed in relief, then something funny and kind of awkward happened. Kwame farted right after I pulled the dildo out of his asshole. Like I said, awkward! I laughed and kissed him. After a moment, Kwame laughed it off too because it was kind of funny. I got up and went to the bathroom. I opened up the medicine cabinet and took the pill. Then I went back to bed. I snuggled up in Kwame's strong arms and we fell asleep shortly after. See? I wasn't lying. I am on the blasted pill. Yeah, I'm a naughty gal who likes to throw caution to the wind every now and then but I'm not insane. I like Kwame a lot, and I think I'll keep him with me in the United States of America. He can study at Wayne State University with me right here in Detroit. Ottawa's Carleton University is a fine school but come on, U.S. schools are much better! I am so glad I went to visit my parents in Canada. Just when I was starting to think Black love was a thing of the past, I meet the man of my dreams. Who would have thought?