tagBDSMBlack On Black Pegging: Hot Date!

Black On Black Pegging: Hot Date!

bySamuelx©

Countless hours browsing the web for the kind of videos and images I knew I wouldn't find. No one caters to my own unique brand of kink. There simply aren't any BDSM websites out there which cater to people of African descent. My name is Jarvis Roger Mondesir. My friends call me J.R. I was born in the City of Jacmel in the Republic of Haiti, and moved with my family eleven years ago to the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. The Capital region of Canada has been our home ever since. I am twenty three years old, and recently graduated from the University of Ottawa's Telfer MBA program. I graduated in the top five percent of my class. How cool is that?

Now, for most recent graduates of Colleges and Universities across North America, finding a job in your field is quite hard. We are in the last dregs of a Recession, after all. For months before graduation, I worried about becoming one of those highly educated minority guys and gals you see working at Tim Horton's restaurant even though they hold MBAs and MFAs from Canada's top schools. Thanks to one of my former professors, I was able to parlay an internship with the Canadian Revenue Agency into a full-time entry level position. Let's just say it pays to be connected. I'm now on the Board of Business Development at the downtown branch of the C.R.A. Not bad for a poor guy from Haiti, eh?

Unfortunately, professional success doesn't always mean happiness in one's personal life. In fact, quite often it means just the opposite. A lot of people are always saying that if you're a good-looking, educated Black man with a good job, the sisters are going to flock to you. Hmm. I'm six-foot-one by 240 pounds. I've got a solid, muscular form acquired through many years of playing soccer at the high school and University level. I am disease-free, and live in a nice, middle-class neighborhood in the Barrhaven sector of Ottawa. I made one hundred and eleven thousand dollars last year, after taxes. I drive a bright red Mercedes. So why am I alone? I can't blame it on work. I work nine hours a day, five days a week. My weekends belong to me. I've got no excuse. I guess I'm alone because deep down, I want to be. Don't tell that to my folks, though. They are under the impression that my life is perfect. My parents, Wilson and Janine Mondesir are currently enjoying an all-expenses paid vacation in the island of Cuba, deep in the Caribbean. I gave them this little outing as a present for all the good things they've done for me ever since I could remember.

Family is everything, you know? Sometimes I envy my parents. They met in Haiti, where family life is much simpler. We're a Christian household with old-fashioned values. In North America, things are much more complicated between men and women. We can't even talk to each other freely at work, even though we live in the land of freedom. My Arab friend Abu works for the Ontario Ministry of Finance and he tells me that he would never marry a Canadian woman, even though he tends to date tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed women from the French Canadian community. I jokingly tease him about having a thing for 'Infidel women' and he sometimes gets mad about that. I think he's confused about what he wants. Abu's parents live in the City of Mecca, crown jewel of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. He's expected to return home at some point and marry a nice Saudi gal. I wish him the best of luck with his life choices. If only things were that simple for me.

The Haitian community of Canada grows by leaps and bounds. We are quite numerous, for one thing. You'll see tons of us in places like Ottawa and Toronto in provincial Ontario, Montreal and Laval in provincial Quebec, Edmonton and Calgary in provincial Alberta, and even Halifax and Preston in the province of Nova Scotia. We're quite entrepreneurial, which explains our success at nearly all levels of Canadian society. In another hundred years, the Haitians will probably run Canada. I'm just kidding. Or am I? I travel frequently to Boston, my favorite town in the United States of America. Boston is the Capital of the State of Massachusetts, and the home of a sizable community of Haitian-Americans. What I love about that town is how racially diverse and progressive it is. Also, the Governor of Massachusetts is a Black man and he lives in Boston. How cool is that?

Anyhow, in all my travels, I've yet to find what I want. What I want is a Black woman. But not just any Black woman. She must be beautiful, smart and understanding. And she must accept me for who and what I am. For I am more than just a tall, decent-looking brother with a government job, a nice salary and a nice car. I'm also a vulnerable human being on a quest to find a kindred spirit. A like mind. A kindred soul. A shadow self. My other half. Sorry, I used to be a poet back in the day. I guess some traces of it still remain within me even though the last time I actually wrote a poem, George W. Bush still ran the States and dear old Iggy still thought he would be Prime Minister of Canada someday.

So here I am. Sitting in my living room in my house in Barrhaven. Browsing through countless spots online. Men in Pain. Divine Bitches. Vicious Vixens. And the list goes on. Sometimes, I see echoes of what I might be looking for. Black men getting fucked by women wearing strap-on dildos. Always White women and Hispanic women, never Black women. Sometimes I see Black women wearing strap-on dildos and banging White men and occasionally Hispanic men and Asian men. You'll never see a Black woman banging a Black man with a strap-on dildo on one of those so-called BDSM websites. Yeah, nobody caters to my unique fetish. I finally enter this forum where apparently minorities who are into BDSM are welcome. I log on, create a profile as BlackBro1986 and post a slightly blurry picture of myself wearing sunglasses and a business suit. I go to bed. It's Friday night and I don't feel like going out.

When I wake up Saturday morning, I check out the website and amazingly, I've got a message. It's from LadyNoire117. The picture on the profile is that of a tall Black woman in a Black leather miniskirt and red tank top cracking a whip. Probably a fake. I read the message. It's a standard BDSM greeting. This "Mistress" who is probably a gay guy in disguise, claims to be interested in me. Am I collared? Do I have an owner? Her location is Orleans, Ontario. Hmmm. That's interesting. Yeah, it's probably some guy having some fun at my expense but I reply anyway that I'm not owned or collared, but I'm looking for a Mistress. Moments later, as I make breakfast, a reply comes. It's LadyNoire117. She claims to want to get to know me better. And she invites me to contact her at six one three, eight nine four, plus four other numbers I can't reveal to you. Amazingly, I pick up my cell and dial right away. My heart thunders in my chest. It's probably some guy having fun at my expense. Real women don't contact guys over the web like this. The phone rings. On the third ring someone picks up. A husky female voice answers. Hello, she says. And I almost pass out.

I ask if this is LadyNoire117. The sexy female voice chuckles and says yes. I introduce myself as BlackBro1986, and we start talking. Her voice is surprisingly pleasant. She sounds like a well-read, well-spoken lady. And her questions are straight to the point. How tall am I? Six-foot-one. How much do I weigh? 240 pounds. When was my last STD test? Three months ago at the Sexual Health Center in Ottawa. I'm STD-free. LadyNoire117 chuckles and tells me she's clean as well. Am I circumcised? Hell no. I'm uncut and proud! Where do I work? I say that I'm a Canadian government employee and thus I must be discreet. What are my BDSM preferences? Anything to do with Black women and strap-on dildos. LadyNoire117 laughs and tells me she likes the sound of that. I walk to the kitchen to turn off the stove on my omelette and then sit comfortably while we keep talking. Before long, it's eleven in the morning. We started talking at nine twenty.

LadyNoire117 asks me what I'm doing today. I tell that I'm free. She tells me to show up at the Saint Laurent Mall at one in the afternoon. Before I can reply, she hangs up. I ponder all this. Is this lady for real? I wonder whether or not to go. She could be a psycho killer or a cop. Or a hooker. Or some weird combo of all three. Nevertheless, I shower, shave, shit and then get dressed and drive to the Saint Laurent Mall in Ottawa's East End. At precisely one o'clock, I'm walking through the bookstore when my phone rings. It's LadyNoire117. She asks me where I am and I tell her. She laughs and tells me to go upstairs at the food court. I obey, and soon find myself among the throngs of people in the crowded 'feeding area' of the mall.

I scan the crowd, looking for the mystery lady. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around. A tall, beautiful young Black woman stares eyeball to eyeball at me. I blink. She smiles. LadyNoire117, I presume? I extend my hand. She shakes it. I look her up and down. Hot damn she looks good. Black leather jacket over a blue turtleneck shirt, Black jeans and boots. She looks at me, tells me I look better than she thought I would, and then we go sit down somewhere. We start talking. Just the basics, really. She's twenty five. Unmarried. A college graduate. Self-employed. How into BDSM is she? An expert. What's her preference? She's a total dominatrix and a bit of a sadist. I smile at that. Sounds good to me. I tell her a bit about me. I'm Jarvis, Haitian-Canadian, government worker and BDSM enthusiast. LadyNoire117 tells me to call her Karen, and we get coffee. She asks me if I'm married and I shake my head. I show her my ring-less hands. Karen smiles and tells me she's unmarried, but has a son. Wow. I smile. Okay.

We talk for a while, and then she tells me that she's ready for me. I hesitate. Ready for what? Karen/LadyNoire117 tells me that she's got a surprise for me. With that, she takes my arm and practically pushes me out of the mall. I tell her that I'm parked upstairs but she tells me that we're not going far. There is a hotel right across from the mall and that's where she wants me to go. I feel both excited and scared. What if she's a serial killer or a cop? Lust won out over fear and I follow her. We cross the busy highway on foot and make our way to the hotel. Just as I wonder which floor we're heading to, she inserts her key into the door of a ground-level room right behind the hotel parking lot. Welcome to my spot, she says. I look at the room. It's well-lit, and contains a king-sized bed, a TV and a couple of chairs. Nice. Karen/LadyNoire117 tells me to relax, and I sit on the bed while she goes to the washroom.

Moments later, LadyNoire117 comes out of the washroom. She's wearing only a bra and panties, and a shiny Black strap-on dildo. I gasp when I see it. She smiles and tells me to get undressed. I do as I am told, hastily undressing. I stand naked before her, with my erect penis in my hand. LadyNoire117 smiles and tells me I've got a good-sized dick. I smile. She tells me to get on all fours. I obey. She comes up behind me and spreads my ass cheeks wide open. With gloved fingers she probes my asshole. And then I grimace as she applies a cold liquid against my asshole. Lubricant. LadyNoire117 tells me that she's ready to fuck me. I nod, and tell her that I'm ready to get fucked. I shudder as I feel LadyNoire117's dildo push itself into my asshole. Her firm hands grip my hips as she penetrates me. I groan as she enters me. Hot damn. I'm really getting fucked in the ass by a sexy Black woman with a strap-on dildo. Yes!

LadyNoire117 is gentle at first as she fucks me with the strap-on dildo. Inch by inch she works it into my ass. I stroke my cock as she fucks me. Her dildo feels good in my ass, though it hurt a bit at first. We've got a nice easy rhythm going on. LadyNoire117 fucks me just right, sliding the dildo deep into my ass and gently patting my bum as she fucks me. She flips me on my back and I look into her beautiful face as she fucks me. Hot damn. This is so beautiful. I admire our reflections in the large mirror nearby as we do our thing. A sexy Black woman fucking a well-built Black man with a strap-on dildo. Definitely not something that you see every day. I love it. And unfortunately it's over too soon as LadyNoire117 pulls out of me. I take a moment or two to recover. She asks me how I feel. I tell her it felt great. LadyNoire117 smiles. She tells me I'm the first Black guy she ever fucked with her dildo. Wow. That's cool.

As I get undressed, I ask her if we can see each other again. LadyNoire117 tells me that she's flattered but after graduating from her College, her priorities are the well-being of her son and the survival of her yet unnamed small business. I tell that I find her cute, and would love to get to know her better. Even if it's on a platonic level. She hesitates. I hand her my business card, and show her my government identification card. LadyNoire117/Karen's eyes widen. I smile and tell her that I'm taking a leap of faith. I want us to be friends, or whatever. She takes a look at my ID, smiles and pockets my business card. I put my ID back in my wallet. Before leaving the room, I take her hand in mine and gently kiss it. I tell her that I'm a nice guy, and would love to see her again. In whatever capacity she decides. She laughs and playfully smacks my ass as I leave. I go back to Saint Laurent Mall, get in my car and drive away. I feel like a million bucks. When I get home, I've got several messages from LadyNoire117 waiting for me. Apparently, she requires my presence at a certain African-style restaurant in Vanier this coming Sunday afternoon. You know I'll be there!

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