Why Black Women Love Black Women

Catalina Saint Vincent is my name. I'm a five-foot-eleven, quite curvy and delicious big-bottomed young Black woman of Haitian-American and Puerto Rican descent living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Many people accuse me of being naïve because I've led a somewhat sheltered life. That's not true. I'm the most down to earth and realistic person you will ever meet. My father Raymond Saint Vincent moved to the United States of America from Haiti when he was nineteen. Like a lot of young Black men and Black women living in the Republic of Haiti at the time, he moved to America during the late 1970s to escape the then-reigning President Duvalier's paramilitary dictatorship. He's now a respected tax attorney in South Boston and the senior partner of a firm which employs thirty five attorneys.

My mother Helen Santiago is of Puerto Rican and African descent. She's a Professor of Literature at UMass-Boston. We live in a nice mansion in Brockton's quiet West Side. Ours is an affluent yet nicely integrated neighborhood. Our immediate neighbors are Jews, African-Americans, Polish-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Haitians, Jamaicans and Cape Verdeans. Mine is the oldest family on the block. My parents moved here decades ago. I have an older brother and an older sister. My brother Eric is a police officer in nearby Milton, where he lives with his wife Anna and their two sons, Gregory and Stuart. My sister Marguerite attends Wellesley College. We do alright for ourselves. I consider myself very lucky and I'm thankful to have such a wonderful family.

I have some wonderful news to share with you. The best news a young lesbian could have. I've won the heart of my beloved Amelia Jean-Baptiste, the woman I've been in love with since forever. Sometimes, you meet someone and just fall in love with them right away. I had just graduated high school when my mother Helen's old friend Amelia Jean-Baptiste came for a visit. She moved to Brockton after divorcing her husband Jake O'Shea and leaving the wealthy Black enclave of Oak Bluffs in Martha's Vineyard forever. Amelia Jean-Baptiste was a striking lady. Six feet tall, lean, with dark brown skin, short Black hair and pale gray eyes. A gorgeous gal of African-American and Irish descent. She met my mother Helen during their freshman year at Pine Manor College, more than twenty years ago. They've been real good friends since those days.

Amelia Jean-Baptiste took a teaching position at Zulu College, a historically Black private school located in the heart of Boston. The school was founded in 1981 by local civil rights activists and philanthropists and named after King Shaka Zulu, the legendary leader of the Zulu Kingdom who fought for the cause of Black Independence in South Africa during the 1800s. My parents were stunned when I decided to attend a historically Black school. I had acceptance letters from Boston College, Boston University, Northeastern University, Bridgewater State College and Curry College. I've been attending rich white schools my whole life. In college, I wanted to be surrounded by my own people. Zulu College appealed to me. An accredited school with a student body of eight thousand persons, offering associates, bachelors and masters degrees in seventy fields.

This goes to show you that Black people can accomplish great things, even though racist individuals and their nefarious institutions continue trying to slow us down. They're not relenting. Especially now that a Black man is President of America, and we have Black Governors in the states of New York and Massachusetts. Whites will be minorities in America before I'm old enough to retire. Diversity is here to stay. I wish those backwards fools would get with the program. Oh, well. All I can do is live my life and try to excel.

I've wanted to attend a Black school for as long as I can remember. However, what really bothers me is that many talented Black students value the rich white schools over the sturdy and resilient, academically challenging worlds of the HBCU. In case you don't know, HBCU stands for historically Black college or university. Top notch schools like Morehouse College, Howard University, Spelman College and Alabama State University are prime examples of what an HBCU can be. The men and women attending these schools are bright scholars. Let no one tell you otherwise. Zulu College welcomed me with open arms. At long last, I was among my own kind. Other talented young Black men and women pursuing higher education.

Zulu College's campus was pretty neat, and lively. African-American students make up seventy three percent of the student body. Native Americans, Caucasians, Asians and Hispanics make up the remaining twenty seven percent. Not bad. I could live with those demographics. The campus was so charming. Everyone was so friendly. I visited the twelve-floor-library, the four cafeterias, the four administration buildings and the eighteen classroom buildings. What really impressed me were the athletic facilities. The football stadium could house a small city! Zulu College student-athletes competed in men's and women's Basketball, men's and women's Swimming, men's and women's Lacrosse, men's and women's Soccer, women's Field Hockey, women's Rugby, men's and women's Tennis, men's and women's Cross Country, men's Football, women's Volleyball and men's and women's Track & Field. I decided to sign up for the women's Lacrosse team. I played Lacrosse in high school and I was good at it. Why not give it a shot in college?

There were a lot of pretty young Black women at the school. Makes sense since Zulu College used to be an all-female school until 1999. That's when the board of directors voted to admit male students in an effort to boost lagging enrollment trends. A decade later, men make up forty eight percent of the student body. I'm glad to see lots of brothers on campus, but I'm all about the sisters. Especially the hot ones. Hey, I'm a lesbian, alright? You got that? Cool. Would you believe who my Introduction to Political Oratory professor was? None other than Amelia Jean-Baptiste, my mother's old friend.

The first time I saw her on campus, professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste looked good enough to eat. She totally killed it in a red silk shirt, Black silk pants and sexy high-heels the first day of classes. Hot damn. The sight of that woman made me get hot in funny places. There were eleven women and nine men in the class. The chicks looked okay. Two of the sisters, Monique and Isabel, looked hot. Robin, the only white chick in the class was alright. Ramona, a feisty Latin mama, looked very sexy. Especially with those short skirts she liked to wear. However, no one caught my attention like professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste. I don't know how I could have missed it but she had one hell of a booty on her. Thick and round, just the way I liked them. I had only one question. Was she down for my kind of action?

It's no secret that young Black lesbians like myself have a serious Jones for mature Black women. Seriously. I've got several Black female friends who are gay and bisexual and like me, they think older Black women are hot. My parents still don't know I'm a lesbian. Even though I got pictures of Black female celebrities like Ashanti, Beyonce Knowles, Lisaraye McCoy, Elise Neal, Pam Grier, Janet Jackson, Regina Hall, Drew Sidora, Candace Parker, Gabrielle Union, Vivica A. Fox, Gina Torres, Alicia Keys and Sanaa Lathan all over my bedroom wall. All of these are fine Black women whose images haunt my dreams. I love watching them on TV. Hell yeah. Can't take my eyes off them.

Professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste definitely fell into that category of super-hot Black mamas who haunt young Black dykes dreams. And I was determined to have her for myself. How did I do it? Oh, I basically began to stalk her. And she never knew what hit her. I'm cute, and I look innocent. I've got big doe eyes and I'm oh-so charming. And with a big butt too. People never see me coming. Even though I've been a top scholar my entire life, I led professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste to believe that I needed some extra attention. I'd show up at her office during office hours, and we'd have a little chat. She was friendly, and charming.

Little by little, I learned tidbits about who Amelia Jean-Baptiste was. She recently got divorced, and had apparently sworn off men. Hmm. I hear a lot of straight women say that. As a lesbian, it pisses me off royally because they almost never mean it. They bitch about men for a while, then they meet some hunk and can't wait to get into his pants. Yeah. Amelia was in a bit of a vulnerable spot at the moment. Her divorce had taken its toll on her. She still carried some emotional wounds, deep inside. I have this amazing ability for spotting people's weaknesses and then zeroing in on them like a shark sniffing blood. I knew exactly what Amelia Jean-Baptiste. She needed to feel strong, outgoing and in control again. People usually feel strong when they meet someone who requires their strength. It reasserts their sense of superiority. Whether Amelia realized it or not, she needed someone hot, inexperienced and naïve. I've been around the block quite a few times but I can still play naïve newcomer. And if that's what she needs, then that's what I will be for her.

As needed in this game, I completely shifted myself. Going from hardcore young dyke who's been hooking up with sexy women left and right for years and years to confused chick experiencing a sexual awakening. I told Amelia that I admired her. She was such a strong, independent and powerful Black woman. I asked her to be my mentor, and she was thrilled to accept. Game, set, and almost match, folks. For the next few weeks, Amelia and I became inseparable. Seriously. I followed her around like a lovesick puppy. She took me around Boston, showing me movie theaters, museums and other fun places. We also had some fun when she took me to Copley Mall and we dined at a nice, upscale restaurant. Amelia definitely did well for herself. Later I learned that she walked away with two hundred and sixty grand as part of her divorce settlement from her multi-millionaire ex-husband. Wow.

Amelia wouldn't tell me the reasons for the divorce. All she would say was that she and her husband wanted different things. And she discovered certain things about herself which made her look at life in a new light. If that's not code for someone's going gay, I don't know what is! I was definitely on the right track with the lovely Amelia Jean-Baptiste. One afternoon, she invited me to hang out at her place. I knew right then that I was in like a villain. That day, I went to Amelia's house wearing a Black tank top with a short red skirt. It was October, and the New England weather was still okay. To say she was shocked when she saw me would have been an understatement. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Amelia lived in a nice, two-story house located near the high school in Brockton's West Side. Right across the Fair Grounds of Brockton. A beautiful place. We sat in her living room, quietly sipping margaritas while chatting the afternoon away. I looked longingly at Amelia, and asked her if I could take a look at her pool. Grinning, she nodded. Oh, my. This was all too easy. Amelia is a sweet, kind of trusting and wonderfully vulnerable woman. Ten times what I need, folks. We went into her backyard, which boasted of the highest fences in the neighborhood. I admired the pool, which was big enough for ten people to use without bumping into each other. Wow. I 'accidentally' fell inside, and crashed with a big splash. With a cry of alarm, Amelia asked me if I was alright. I nodded, then asked her to come inside. She shook her head. I looked at her with my puppy eyes and she grinned as she finally relented. Off came her shirt and pants. Stripped to her bra and panties, she went into the pool. I looked at the tall, sexy Black lady who stood before me and licked my lips. This was going to be good.

Amelia looked really good in the water. I looked her up and down. Hot damn. She had the kind of athletic body few females ever had. Pretty thick, curvy, muscular and athletic at the same time. Like Serena Williams. But with a bigger booty. I like what I see. I splashed water at Amelia, and she laughed and backed down. What the heck? I guess someone wants to play hard to get. I splashed water at her, and she laughed and fled from me. I chased her, and caught her. Amelia looked at me with alarmed eyes. I smiled at her, and told her to relax. Then I kissed her. And you know what? She kissed me right back.

I wasn't prepared for how fiercely she kissed me back. I was stunned. I seriously thought Amelia was new to these things, that she found herself curious about women after her divorce. What a colossal mistake I made. She was kissing me passionately, like an experienced woman and not some newcomer. When our lips parted, I stared at her, stunned. Amelia smiled knowingly, and pinched my big butt. I jerked involuntarily. She laughed, and told me to follow her. At this point, I felt like I was losing control of this seduction. Amelia flipped things on me so fast my head was still spinning. One thing for sure, I definitely wanted her as I watched her big sexy ass in her Black underwear as she climbed out of the pool. With a grin on my face, I followed her to the living room.

What happened next was definitely out of character for me. I mean, I'm usually quite butch, in spite of my very beautiful and ultra-feminine appearance. So believe me when I tell you letting Amelia boss me around was a change of pace. The lady took me to the bedroom, where we got down. She undressed me, then put me to bed. Taking my face into her hands, she kissed me tenderly. Then she caressed my breasts, licking a path from my lips to my throat. I felt my flesh become enflamed with desire for her as she continued to run her hands all over me. Those incredibly knowing hands of hers played with my breasts, pinching the areolas. I gasped. Amelia laughed, and asked me to relax. I looked into her eyes and something amazing happened. I just let go, and that's when the magic happened.

Amelia took care of me, as they say. This was all so confusing for me. I don't consider myself a submissive person. In my relationships, I'm always the aggressor. When I seduced my best friend Tamika, I was the chaser. I usually do all the work in my relationships. Making the big decisions, taking care of things, and pleasing my women. Yet with Amelia, something was different. I simply let go, and let her take me because she wanted me to. I felt like putty in her hands. She kissed my lips and fondled my breasts, arousing me like no one ever has. When she began caressing my inner thigh, I hesitated. Amelia kissed me again, and told me to relax. I nodded, and watched as she spread my thighs. Her fingers found my pussy, and darted inside. I gasped as she entered me. Locking eyes with me, Amelia slipped two fingers into my wetness.

No one has ever done that to me before. Usually I go down on my women, not the other way around. Yet here was Amelia, taking charge of me in more ways than one. A playful yet tender look filled her eyes as she fucked my pussy with her fingers. I was tense at first, but as she worked her magic on me, I relaxed and enjoyed what she was doing to me. After enduring this sweet torture for a while, I was ready for me. Amelia was ready to give me more, but she wanted to hear me say it. I stared at her through narrowed eyes. She's so slick. But I'm too horny and too far gone to care. I heard myself beg her to lick my pussy. Grinning, Amelia went to work.

Amelia gently spread my thighs even further, and breathed in the scent of my womanhood. Luckily, I keep everything fresh down there. She began probing my clit with her fingers before licking me. I arched my beg, allowing her greater access inside of me. Amelia began giving my pussy a tongue bath. I couldn't believe I was letting this woman go down on me. This is not my usual M.O. But what the hell? It's always fun to be different. Amelia was really, really good at eating pussy. She took her sweet time, too. I admired her technique. Every woman likes to have her pussy licked differently. Some like it fast and aggressive, others prefer it slow and tender. Since I've never let a female go down on me before, I couldn't possibly tell you what my style was. Somehow, Amelia seemed to get it right anyway. Alternating between quick licks and aggressive thrusts of her fingers into my snatch, she rocked my world. The woman made me squeal in delight as I came for the very first time. I came, and it was spectacular. Amelia watched in amazement as my pussy squirted all over her face. She drank from me and brought her fingers to my lips. I tasted myself on her fingers. We shared a passionate kiss. And that's all she wrote, folks.

The next morning, I woke up next to Amelia Jean-Baptiste. Another first for me. I never stay overnight at the house of some chick I'm trying to seduce. I'm usually out of there after getting some ass. Amelia served me breakfast in bed. The kind of tasty goodies that go straight to my thighs. Omelet, hot dogs, buttered bread and orange juice. We ate in silence. I was still stunned by last night's events. I stayed overnight. And I let her seduce me. Wow. She seduced me. Not the other way around. How in hell did that happen? What do I do now? Amelia told me to finish my breakfast and then get dressed. We had a busy day ahead of ourselves. I sighed. There she goes bossing me around again. What gives? She smiled at me and I nodded. Complied. Ugh. I'm so whipped.

I took a shower, still concerned about my actions and their consequences. While I showered, Amelia had gone to her closet and found something which actually fit me. We were both tall and athletic. Makes sense. I put on the Black silk shirt and blue jeans she handed me, and tied my hair in a bun. Then we went out in her bright red convertible. We went to Westgate Mall and she took me to one of the stores. To buy me some hot items. Shopping with her was fun, and confusing. We were doing couple-type stuff. Were we a couple?

I was still wrestling with all that when she dropped me back at my dorm. This was the beginning of exciting and confusing times for me. Butch young Black chick seduced by mature Black female professor. What a headline that would make in a lesbian gazette! I didn't see Amelia for a couple of days, but we kept in touch by phone. I even added her as a friend on Facebook. She did make me promise to keep our thing a secret, though. Apparently, Zulu College had certain regulations against faculty dating students. I understood. The more I thought about it, the more okay our relationship seemed to me. I was living the dream of many young Black lesbians. Going out with a sexy older Black woman. One who was gorgeous, friendly, great in bed and liked spending money on me. Yeah, I had it good. I was fond of Amelia. I just didn't count on falling in love with her.

Oh, man. Sometimes I feel like I'm in way over my head. I'm a nineteen-year-old Black female student dating her thirty-nine-year-old Black female professor. A professor who happens to be my mother's best friend, former co-worker and former sorority sister. Yeah, it's kind of complicated. However, I enjoyed her company. And the sex was off the hook. One time, we hooked up in her office one Friday afternoon. She made me scream loud enough to wake the dead. It's not just the sex and our hanging out together that I enjoyed. I liked holding Amelia in my arms as she shared her stories with me. She told me how she met her husband, a wealthy Irishman named Jake O'Shea. They ended up getting married. His family wasn't exactly very accepting of her. And they didn't hide their disapproval. He failed to stick up for her. That's part of why she left him. She swore off men and interracial relationships for good. That's more than okay by me because I got to have her. Right place, right time and right frame of mind. I'm a young Black woman who loves Black women. Enough said.