I'm Veronica but called Ronnie by nearly everyone. My mom was a big Ronnie Spector and Ronettes fan as a kid. What can I say? A darkish 20 year old African-American woman, I'm 5'4 and slender with a semi-hourglass figure. Not really curvy but nicely shaped. Most folks say I have a very pretty face. Well, I've never had a problem attracting male attention.
This narrative is mainly about Steve and me. What I describe here happened during our sophomore year in college. It was originally written as a journal entry but I've decided to open up and turn it into a story.
I didn't know him well until we were assigned as research and writing partners on a poly-sci project. We were required to report each week on our research and present a paper at the end of the semester. Usually we met in the library or student union but sometimes we went over notes in my room. At the time, I lived in university housing on a floor that featured a central living area with four individual rooms. They were small, with a dresser, desk, chair and a bed that retracted under a long backboard to form a sofa.
One afternoon, we were in my room analyzing some particularly tedious data, and drifted into general conversation. Steve mentioned a guy we both knew from class. He was prominent in several Black student organizations and known as something of a militant. I couldn't help scoffing.
"Oh yeah, he's always talking Black power and Black cohesion while sleeping white."
"Oh..."
Like most young white man talking to a young Black woman, he was cautious. "That's right. But let him find some Black girl that's sleeping with a white boy, and he trashes her all over campus."
Steve is a nice looking guy, not big but well-built and athletically wiry. Looking at him then, I got to thinking that I had not been with a white boy before. Not sex, I mean. My high school was heavily minority so not much opportunity, and there were so many racial issues on this campus I never really considered dating white here.
I began to believe I should, though. All kinds of men came on to me. All the time. Maybe I should take advantage of that and explore possibilities? So I started flirting and made a point of moving closer to him, even putting my hand on his thigh. It wasn't long before we were kissing. He was still being cautious, so I ran my hand under his shirt and across his chest and abdomen. At last, he moved to fondle my breasts. I have nice round C-Cups that guys always go for. I paused to pull my sweater over my head, stretched lengthwise on the bed and urged him down next to me. He tugged my bra low enough to kiss my nipples while I lightly massaged his pant bulge.
Much more confident of me now, he undid my bra and played with my nipples until they were rigid and nearly glowing. But he was still gentle with it, something I found I liked a lot. I unzipped his fly to work his engorged penis out. We were both getting achingly excited by this time. I started to lower his pants as he undid mine. Soon, I had his meat in my hand and began stroking it. He was not circumcised and I really liked being able to slide the skin back to expose the bulb. Not that I'd seen many, but I thought he had a very beautiful penis. Perfectly shaped.