tagFetishBlack On Black Pegging: Try It!

Black On Black Pegging: Try It!

bySamuelx©

My name is Jasmine O'Connell Amadou. I'm a six-foot-tall, light-skinned young Black woman living in the town of Randolph, Massachusetts. My father Richard Jones is originally from the town of Montego Bay in the island of Jamaica and my mother Crystal O'Connell is a Boston-based Irishwoman. I've lived in the City of Randolph, Massachusetts, my whole life. I graduated from R.H.S. in the summer of 2003, and later earned my Associate's degree in Criminal Justice at Massasoit Community College in the nearby City of Brockton. Later, I earned my Bachelor's degree in Criminology at Bridgewater State College, and my Law degree at Northeastern University. I'm a New England woman through and true. And I feel fortunate to be living in interesting times. The recession still grips the State of Massachusetts at the start of 2012 but I feel confident that Deval Patrick, our first African-American Governor, will lead us back to prosperity.

The face of Massachusetts is changing, folks. And not everyone is welcoming it. The media reports on the scores of Chinese and Mexican families coming to the State of Massachusetts. As usual, they've overlooked something. Lately, we've been getting a lot of African immigrants in the environs of the City of Boston. These African immigrants from places like Ghana, Congo, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Senegal, the Republic of South Africa and Somaliland are as different from us regular African-Americans as night is different from day. Still, they're our brothers and sisters so I for one feel friendly toward them. It's time to reconnect, people. Some African-Americans who've been in the United States of America since its foundation turn a cold shoulder to recent immigrants from Continental Africa. I find that really unfortunate. If a White guy from Boston, Massachusetts, went to live in Europe, he'd be welcome among them. Why should a Black guy from Central Africa feel unwelcome among African-Americans in New England? Unity is strength, as my Haitian friends say.

Speaking of reconnecting, right now I'm dating this really hot Senegalese brother named Madiop Amadou. He's six feet five inches tall and dark-skinned, with curly Black hair and shiny White teeth. Madiop moved into the Bridle Path Circle neighborhood of Randolph, which is where I live. He's a newcomer to the U.S. but he used to live in the Ontario region of Canada before. Apparently, his parents are diplomats with the Senegalese Embassy. Madiop is a highly educated brother with ambition to spare. He holds a Bachelor's degree in business administration from Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. He also has a Master's degree from the Telfer School of Business at the University of Ottawa. One thing I like about many young African men is that they're really motivated to get their college and university degrees, unlike so many of the lazy Black guys we have here in the United States of America. Madiop Amadou fascinated me. He speaks French, English, Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic, Swahili and Japanese. He's lived all over the world. How cool is that? I'm ashamed to say that I only speak English and profane but I've never left the continental U.S. The furthest I've gone was the City of Toronto in Canada, and I was there for only six days.

Dating Madiop Amadou was an enlightening experience. He was tall, friendly and courteous. His manners were impeccable. And he was always nice to everyone he met. You'll never hear this brother cursing or see him being unkind to anyone. He likes to talk to any interesting person he meets, something I found kind of odd. Madiop told me that among the Senegalese people, it was unheard of that folks closed themselves off from others. The people of Senegal were really friendly, warm and open. When Madiop introduced me to his mother Aamina Ahmed Amadou, leader of the High Commission of Senegal, I was understandably nervous. It turned out that I was nervous for absolutely nothing. Aamina Ahmed Amadou was a really nice lady. And I could see where Madiop got both his height and skin tone from. His mother was easily six-foot-one, with ebony skin and short Black hair. She was educated at Oxford University in the United Kingdom. As for Madiop's father Yousef Amadou, he was a short, light-skinned, slightly balding Black gentleman. He was once Chief of Police in Dakar, the Capital of Senegal, and once worked for Interpol. He held dual Canadian/Senegalese citizenship and was a graduate of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Academy. Wow. Madiop came from impressive lineage. My dad is a corrections officer and my mother teaches Law at Suffolk University. We're just average people. Madiop came from a super family! Yet his folks were nice, friendly and surprisingly humble.

As you can probably tell, I am smitten with Madiop Amadou. The tall, handsome Senegalese stud swept me off my feet. Before I met him, I had been despairing that I'd ever meet my ebony prince. Lately, a lot of Black guys have been marrying White women. Some frustrated sisters have turned to White men. Me, I'm not into White guys. I love my chocolate brothers, though they irritate the hell out of me sometimes. Also, the American media had some depressing statistics about Black female professionals dating and marriage prospects. According to them, most of us faced the dilemma of either dying alone or dating outside our race because there weren't enough Black guys to go around. I guess those statistics failed to consider Black men from Africa. They only considered African-American guys. Well, I'm not into those knuckle-dragging, booze-drinking and weed-smoking, White chick-obsessed, irresponsible losers. And I'm not into fake-smiling, covertly racist White guys with jungle fever fantasies either. Sorry to disappoint the intra-racial statistics but not all mixed women are into Caucasian guys. I need me a strong Black man. Preferably one with a college education and some ambition. In my sweet Madiop Amadou, I found both. I thank God for His blessings, ladies and gentlemen.

Madiop and I had a whirlwind romance, then we got married. Thus I became Jasmine O'Connell Amadou. I applied for him to get his permanent residency in America so he could at least work in his field. He got a job working as a special services manager for the Boston Museum of Science. Basically, they needed a polyglot with business savvy and my Madiop was the right man for the job. Madiop and I settled into our daily routines. I work for the Boston Metropolitan District Attorney's Office or B.M.D.A. As for my Madiop, he loves his new job. It comes with a seventy-eight thousand-dollar annual salary, after taxes. That's really not bad in this lousy economy. I've seen too many men and women from the corporate world, the legal profession and other high-powered jobs lose it all during the recession. My Madiop and I found a nice apartment in Randolph. It's not far from the Silver Line Train which I take to get to Boston every day. I don't drive. Long story. Involves an accident when I was a college freshman. I haven't gotten behind the wheel ever since. I can drive, I just prefer not to. Madiop bought a bright red Lexus, and he loves it. We're both successful, but as a couple we're drifting apart because we're not spending enough time together. Madiop's mother Aamina became a close friend and confidante of mine. She advised me to spice things up and remind Madiop why he married me in the first place. I followed her advice. I had a few wonderful ideas.

One day, Madiop came home from work and found me lying naked in bed. I beckoned for him to join me. He was tired as hell after a long day of dealing with international visitors and businessmen at the Boston Museum of Science but the sight of my naked flesh perked him right up. Smiling, he took off his shirt, pants and socks. Then he joined me. Gently, I kissed him and wrapped my arms around him. And just like that, we began to make love. Madiop sucked on my succulent breasts and fingered my pussy. I opened my legs for him, and he entered me with a swift thrust of his eight-inch, hard dick. He fucked me in the missionary position for a while, then I got on top of him. Madiop put his hands on my hips as I began riding him. Hard and fast he thrust his dick deep inside of me. My man's got an awesome rod of power and he sure knows how to use it! He pounded my pussy just right, and I squealed in delight as he fucked me. I hadn't gotten it this good in a while and I wanted to make up for lost time. So you had better believe I rode him for all he was worth.

Later, we tried something else together. You see, I bought a strap-on dildo at the adult store near South Station in downtown Boston and I couldn't wait to try it. Lucky for me, my husband was in a highly experimental mood. That's how I got him to literally bend over and take it. Yep, I greased up my man's ass with lubricant and sucked his cock to full hardness. Then I gently slid the dildo inside of him. As you can imagine, Madiop was a bit nervous about the whole thing but I calmed him down. I told him everything would be alright. Then I shoved my strap-on dildo up his ass and fucked him with it. I stroked his big cock while pounding him in the ass with my plastic dick. Madiop tried to hold it in like the strong African man he is. However, I fucked him roughly just to make him scream. And he did scream as I slammed my dildo so far up his ass, I swear it must have tickled his prostate. I kept ramming my strap-on dildo up my man's ass with gusto. At the same time I sucked and stroked his dick energetically. And in the end, he shouted as he came more spectacularly than ever before. I pulled my dildo out of his open asshole. I looked inside his 'backdoor tunnel'. Nice. Really nice. I love my handiwork. Madiop thanked me for a wonderful time. We kissed and went to sleep.

Thus, the passion came back into our bedroom . No more late nights for my Madiop at the Boston Museum of Science, folks. He's happy to come home to me. And you know what? We're quite happy together. Who cays Black Love is dead? A bunch of naysayers in the media, self-loathing Black folks who worship outsiders and hate their own, and of course the ill-informed everywhere. Black Love is not dead. It lives on in Massachusetts, where a Black man is Governor. It lives on in the Obama White House. And it most definitely lives on in Randolph, where an African-American sister of Irish and Jamaican descent got herself a handsome, educated African man from Senegal. I looked for love in all the wrong places and despaired about finding it. And in the end, it found me. I thank God for His blessings. See you around the universe, people.

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