Blac Ings: Men of Men

Don't believe in stereotypes, they're not worth anything! If anyone tells you different, don't believe him or her. Just ask me. My name is Kelvin Monpoint, and I'm a brother with a story to share with you. I hear a lot of trash talk about bisexual men in the Black Community. As an openly bisexual man of Haitian descent, I find all that crap ridiculous. Seriously. I'm twenty seven years old, and hold a Master's degree in Sociology from Carleton University, a fine school located in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I presently work for the City of Ottawa Department of Social Services as a special interest counselor for at-risk people.

I've only been on the job for two years but after interacting with Arabs, Africans, Asians and others, as well as Caucasian folks of all stripes, I can tell you that everyone is unique. No two people who have ever lived are exactly alike, that just doesn't happen. According to statistics, being Black and male in the continent of North America should mean having a predisposition towards criminal activities, irresponsibility and being generally unproductive. I don't know where these idiots get their facts. Seriously. I come from a stable, loving, two-parent household. My father Eugene Monpoint moved to the Confederation of Canada from the island of Haiti in 1979 as a twenty-year-old man. He studied Law at the University of Manitoba, and eventually moved to the region of Ontario, where he met my mother, Alexandra Jeunesse, a French Canadian woman. They got married and had little old me.

In the eyes of the world, I am seen as biracial because I'm light-skinned with curly hair and hazel eyes but I consider myself Black. Both of my parents are educated, and they're happily married. Mom is a graduate of the University of Ottawa and has taught Mathematics at Saint Guillaume Academy for the past twenty years. My folks are in their fifties, and still going strong both as a married couple and as working professionals. My parents taught me that I could accomplish anything as long as I set my mind to it. It's something for which I am eternally thankful. After graduating from Carleton University, I traveled quite a bit. I lived in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, for about eleven months. I found it a really fun place to live in, but the City of Ottawa is the place of my birth. It's home, pure and simple.

I began looking for work, and although I once said I would never work for the Canadian government, I had student loans to pay back. I began working for the Department of Social Services. They say you're not supposed to mix business with pleasure, your personal life with your work. However, I have never believed in following the rules set by others, no matter how well-intentioned. I've always had a rebellious streak and I like to live close to the edge. How many Black male social workers do you know of? Also, how many openly bisexual Black male social workers can you think? If you're drawing up a blank, that's okay. I am proud of who I am and I happen to love the work I do. I help a lot of people. The City of Ottawa is one of the top destinations for newcomers and immigrants coming into Canada. Especially the ones from outside the European Union. I speak French, English, Spanish, Tunisian Arabic, Mandarin Chinese and a bit of Portuguese. Being fluent in so many languages really helps when you're dealing with a truly diverse population that needs a lot of help settling down into a new country.

Anyhow, I wanted to tell you about some of my adventures. I was dating this fine-looking East Indian chick named Radha Singh. You should have seen her, man. Five feet ten inches tall, slender but curvy where it counted. As in she had a really nice ass. She had light bronze skin, long Black hair and dark brown eyes. Radha Singh is an Architecture student at the University of Ottawa. We met while I was visiting a buddy of mine at Carleton University. Radha and I totally hit it off and we began seeing each other. I really thought she was someone I could have a lasting relationship with. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. You see, Radha is quite paranoid. She heard that I chatted up a certain Chinese female friend of hers and assumed the worst. The truth is that I was merely helping her friend with an assignment...and trying to find out some tidbits about Radha's romantic past ( i.e. why she is so into dark-skinned guys) but Radha thought I was cheating. And that was the beginning of the end for our relationship. No amount of apologizing could save our doomed relationship, man. She got mad, and refused to listen to reason. Oh, well. I guess it wasn't meant to be.

Females are crazy, man. It's too bad Radha had trust issues when it came to me because she was kind of fine and had a really nice ass. I like a chick with a nice ass. Why are women so fucking dramatic, man? Seriously. I didn't even cheat on Radha. I've cheated on plenty of women in the past but I thought the lovely Radha was someone special. The one time I stayed faithful to a woman, she dumps me because she thought I was cheating. If that's not an extremely funny case of supreme irony, I don't know what is. Anyhow, I was in a funk lately so I decided to get Radha out of my system. Straight guys might spend all their time moping over the crazy shit that women do to men but as a bisexual man, I've got other options. And you had better believe that I wanted to explore those options.

I was hanging out at the downtown branch of the Ottawa Public Library when someone caught my attention. A tall, slim young Black man with a cute face, muscular body and a tight-looking ass. I approached him and learned his name was Donald Monroe. He was at the library with his girlfriend, a big-booty, light-skinned Black chick named Stacey. Yeah, they looked good together. I talked to Donald and learned that he and Stacey were Algonquin College students, and they were there to do research for their Sociology class. As a gentleman with a Sociology degree, I offered to help them out. And I did. Unfortunately, Stacey had to leave early because of work related issues. Leaving Donald and I sitting there, all by our lonesome. I looked into Donald's eyes and saw something familiar. The brother was a switch-hitter, just like me. I ended up taking him home to my spot in Orleans and teaching him a thing or two!

Donald and I got down and dirty, folks. We got naked, and got busy. I sucked his dick, and then put a condom on it before climbing on top of him. Donald gripped my hips and thrust his cock deep into my asshole. Hot damn, that young man could fuck! He drilled his big Black dick into my ass like a champ, and I absolutely fucking loved it. Donald could totally dish it out. Later, I found out that he could take it as well. How did I find that out? I bent the sexy young Black stud over, and worked my condom-covered dick into his well-lubricated asshole. He was kind of tight but the lubricant helped a great deal. Holding his hips firmly, I thrust deep into his ass. Donald proved that he was a real screamer by howling as I pounded my cock into his ass. Hmm. The only thing I love more than a big cock in my ass is my cock inside a tight ass. I've fucked both women and men in the ass. I don't discriminate. Anal sex simply rocks! I tore up Donald's ass. I fucked Donald until he begged for mercy. How about that?

I gave Donald a ride to his apartment in the Vanier area. It was the least I could do after wrecking the young brother's ass, you know? I returned home that night feeling really good. It's amazing what a good fuck can do to clear a man's mind. I wasn't stressed out over that Indian chick Radha anymore. The way I see it, none of us should waste time worrying about women or men who don't want us around. They clearly aren't worth our time. The summer of 2012 is here. I'm a good-looking, educated brother with a cute face, a fat bank account, a big house and even more importantly, a big dick. Ladies and gentlemen, I don't discriminate. Feel free to hop on for the ride of a lifetime!