Black On Black Pegging Its Hot

The life of a young Black man in North America is seldom easy. However, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't worthwhile. And I owe it all to my special lady. I love my Black goddess. There, I said it. And I don't care if it makes me sound whipped, or weak, or whatever. My name is Steve Jean-Simon and I approve this message. At the time of this story, I was living in the town of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. Odd place for a Haitian-American guy from the City of Boston to find himself in, don't you think? I was basically exiled to the town of Ottawa because I royally fucked up at Boston University, man. I lost my scholarship and much of my livelihood over some ridiculous crap. It involved me, a White chick, some weed and a racist cop. My exasperated father, Massachusetts State Trooper Leonard Jean-Simon, sent my ass to stay with my aunt Nancy Jean-Simon Dexter in the town of Ottawa, Province of Ontario.

I wasn't happy to find myself in the Confederation of Canada, which I considered the most boring place on God's green Earth. I enrolled at Carleton University in the town of Ottawa because it was the only school that accepted me. And in Psychology Class, I encountered a young woman who would later mean the world to me. Fatou Nagombe. A young Black woman from the Republic of Gambia in the depths of continental Africa. Short, skinny and lively. No big breasts. No wide hips. No big butt. This Black chick was built like a typical White chick! Definitely not my type. I tend to like tall, quiet ladies with curves. And for most of my life in the town of Boston, Massachusetts, I dated tall curvy White girls. I hate to admit it but the Black girls in the town of Boston could be too much for a brother. Seriously. Too much attitude isn't a good thing, ladies. Trust me on that one. The brothers aren't impressed. I don't know what your girlfriends got you believing.

Anyhow, I was smitten with Fatou Nagombe from the moment we met. I had never met anybody like her. The gal was so energetic, funny and lively. I felt very lonely in Ottawa. I didn't feel too comfortable with my aunt Nancy, who happened to be my father's older sister. I didn't like her husband Albert Dexter, a White guy from Great Britain. He thinks it's okay to tell Black jokes just because he's married to a Black woman. I reminded his ass that he's not Black, nor is he funny. He's disliked me ever since. I moved out of my aunt's house in the wealthy suburb of Barrhaven and rented an apartment in the town of Vanier, not far from downtown Ottawa. Rent is really cheap in Vanier, but it's kind of a seedy neighborhood. Whatever, I just needed a place to stay.

Anyhow, busing from Vanier to Carleton University could get complicated if you let it. I used to take the number seven bus but I found out that if I took the number four bus at Hurdman Station I could get to campus faster. I quickly acclimated myself to life on campus. Carleton University is really diverse. Lots of students from Africa, India, China, the Caribbean and Latin America. I thought the campus would be overwhelmingly White but that wasn't the case. How cool is that? Anyhow, back to the topic at hand. I found myself fascinated by Fatou Nagombe, the young African who was so different from the Black girls that I grew up with. African girls are so quiet, friendly and reserved. The Black women I knew in the United States of America were a loud, outgoing and opinionated bunch for the most part. Sometimes, I missed the fire of African-American girls. I didn't miss their attitude though. Not one little bit.

One day, I psyched myself up to ask out Fatou Nagombe, and to my immense surprise she said yes. We began dating. My brothers, African girls are all that and then some. Conservative on the outside, freaky on the inside. And they're always classy and lady-like. The City of Ottawa is full of lovely, university-educated African women. Unfortunately, most of the young African men in this town aren't interested in school or dating African women. Well, I'm different from those other guys. I've always been academically driven. I graduated with honors from Boston Latin Academy. I also won an academic scholarship to Boston University, which I unfortunately lost because of some unfortunate events. I aced my classes at Carleton University. I think I represent Team America well. And unlike most of the young Black men living in the City of Ottawa, I had a lovely young African woman on my arm...while getting a top-notch education.

Folks, it's sometimes hard to believe in Black Love. A lot of Black guys simply don't date Black women. And you've got a lot of Black women who hate the very notion of dating a Black man. The funny thing is that a lot of times, Black guys who date White women do so because they're fed up with Black women. And those Black women you see walking around with White guys have had many unpleasant experiences with Black males in the past. That's how a lot of Black men and Black women justify their interest in interracial dating. Of course, some of them happen to genuinely fall in love with someone outside the race as opposed to being driven to them because of something lacking in the Black community. Everybody's got preferences, I guess. I don't judge Black guys with White girlfriends/wives or Black women with White boyfriends/husbands. For most of my life, I've dated White women. I used to say I was never going to marry a Black woman because the angry, drama-filled, eternally pissed-off Black women of America were all that I knew. I didn't even think of African ladies straight from Africa. Of course, not all African women are saintly and not all African-American women are she-devils. One must not generalize. Nothing good comes out of it.

As I lie in bed next to Fatou Nagombe after a night of passionate lovemaking, I can't help but smile. Sometimes I forget how much power my African goddess packs in her five-foot-five, 117-pound body. And last night, she really laid it on me. Guys, um, I have something to confess. I'm into fetish stuff, and I'm really submissive in the bedroom. You wouldn't know it to look at me. I'm six-foot-three and weigh 247 pounds. I used to play football a lot when I lived in the town of Boston. My old school, Boston University, doesn't have a football team unfortunately. Otherwise I would have played for them in the NCAA Division One. Anyhow, Fatou and I are really compatible in and out of bed. My sweet, shy and friendly, deeply reserved Gambian girlfriend can transform herself into a leather-clad and whip-wielding dominatrix when she wants to be. And I love her for it.

Mere hours ago she put me through hell, but in a good way. I found myself tied up, face down and ass up. My sexy girlfriend Fatou looked totally sexy in her Black leather miniskirt and tank top. She bent me over and spanked me, first with her hands then with a wooden paddle. It hurt but I kind of liked it. Afterwards she stroked my cock and balls roughly before applying lubricant all over my asshole. I kind of nervous right about the time she started poking my asshole with her gloved fingers. She asked me if I liked it. I said yes. Declaring that I wasn't loud enough, she smacked my ass. I groaned. Moments later I felt something hard entering my asshole. Fatou whispered into my ears that she was going to bang my ass with her strap-on dildo. I nodded as she penetrated me. And just like that, my sexy lady began pounding me in the ass with her strap-on dildo.

As Fatou really laid it into me, I found myself thinking about how she discovered my strap-on fetish in the first place. Growing up in the Haitian-American community of Boston, I had a macho image to maintain. Yet I also had what I'm going to label undisclosed desires. While my buddies watched porn featuring Black guys like Brian Pumper and Mr. Marcus slamming big-booty women of all races, I watched another kind of porn. In the videos and magazines I purchased, bossy women in dominatrix outfits fucked tough-looking guys into submission with strap-on dildos. I never admitted this to anyone. And I wouldn't have admitted it to Fatou either. I was really good at licking her pussy, and sticking my nine-inch, uncircumcised dick deep inside of her. Fatou loves riding me hard as I pound her tight African cunt with powerful thrusts of my Haitian cock. Show her what us Caribbean descended dudes are all about. Well, now she was giving it to me, man.

Fatou flipped me on my back and raised my legs in the air as she worked the dildo deep into my asshole. The fact that I was bigger and stronger than her didn't stop her or intimidate her in the least. And she was working that strap-on dildo like she was born with it. I screamed in pleasure mixed with pain as she fucked me with it. Hot damn. While fucking me, Fatou stroked my dick. Man, it drove me over the edge. Soon I was shooting my cum all over the place. Fatou continued fucking me, pounding my ass until I felt like I was being split in half. She didn't relent until I begged her to stop. Smiling wickedly, she pulled the dildo out of me and told me that my tight ass was now a gaping asshole. Then she pulled the condom off the dildo and stuffed the dildo into my mouth. Is she a naughty bitch or what?

Man, after that experience, I was breathless. Fatou wrapped her arms around me, and asked me how I felt. Man, I didn't have the words to describe how I felt. Too many conflicting feelings. Fatou kissed me, then went to sleep. I looked at her and she slept. Hot damn. What a woman! Man, if I knew African ladies were anything like my dear Fatou Nagombe, I would have moved my ass to Ottawa a long time ago. I want to marry this young woman, for real. This isn't the sex talking. I just think she's amazing. And I want to be with her always. I guess I found the one I was meant to be with. I had to travel a long way to find her but hey, it was totally worth it. It's my life.