tagFirst TimeMy Standard of Beauty: Black Women

My Standard of Beauty: Black Women

bySamuelx©

I love the Black woman’s natural beauty. It is simply the best in the world. Kelvin Jean-Pierre is the name. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the town of Nepean, Province of Ontario. I recently graduated from Algonquin College, where I majored in Business Administration. I transferred to Carleton University and hope to get into the MBA program someday. I want to work in the U.S. because there are more work opportunities for ambitious Black folks with University degrees over there than in the narrow-minded Confederation of Canada. My older brother Jonathan moved to the U.S. after graduating from Carleton University with a Master’s degree in Criminology. He now works for a think tank in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. I hope to follow in his footsteps. The summer is here and I’m chasing the sexy Black ladies, folks.

Folks, I wasn’t lying when I said I love Black ladies and their amazing natural beauty. I simply adore Black women. I’ve never been into White chicks. Now, I’m not hating on them or anyone else for that matter. They’re just not my thing. Nothing against brothers or sisters for that matter who go for the vanilla but I love me some chocolate. Nothing quite like the chocolate loving, folks. Amen to that. Black love is all that and then some. Worked for my parents and grandparents in ages past and it works for me in this day and age. Thank you very much. You’ve got your preference and I’ve got mine. Peace.

People, I’ve got something to confess. I’m twenty two years old, and I’ve got a shameful secret. What could it be? Get your head out of the gutter. Just because I’m a Black man doesn’t mean it’s something sordid. I didn’t go anything illegal. Nobody’s after me. It’s not something tragic or whatever. However, it is something which bothers me personally. I’m technically still a virgin. Yeah, I know. Bet you weren’t expecting that one. Why am I a virgin at the age of twenty two? Long story. I attended an all-male Catholic school, Xavier Brothers Academy, so yeah, no sex. After graduating high school, I didn’t feel like going to University right away. I wanted to see the world. Somehow, that led me to entering the Canadian Armed Forces. And I was shipped to the Middle East. The Canadian Army is mostly male, like all the armies in the modern world. So yeah, again no sex.

When I came back to the city of Ottawa, I was thankfully intact. However, the stuff I saw during the war in the Middle East had changed me forever. I withdrew into my shell. My parents tried to get me to go out but I wasn’t interested. They didn’t understand. My father Stanley is a public schoolteacher and my mother Alexandra is a registered nurse at the Ottawa Hospital. They could never understand the horrors of war and what it can do to a person’s psyche. I wasn’t interested in doing anything other than going to school and working. So I enrolled at Algonquin College and worked as a security guard on weekends. I led a very lonely life, folks. Until events around the Afro-Caribbean Diaspora forced me to look at life through different lenses.

Right now, I’m spending some quality time with this super fine Haitian sister named Veronique D’Arcy. She’s quite tall, thick, magnificently dark-skinned and busty, with a big round booty. Veronique is a third-year student at the University of Ottawa. We met at a gala slash fundraiser which the growing Caribbean community of Ottawa had to help our brothers and sisters in the Republic of Haiti with disaster relief and reconstruction. Veronique caught my eye because she was fine and also smart. She was talking with this rich White guy named Spencer but I could tell she was into me. So I went over there and basically stole her from him for the rest of the evening.

Yeah, taking Veronique from that lame-ass White dude turned out to be the coolest thing I’d done in a while. For she ended up going home with me. We took the Ninety Five Bus from Rideau Center all the way to Baseline Station, then walked the short distance to my apartment. Veronique was like a kitten during the whole bus ride. Everybody was staring at us. The lily-White residents of Nepean were clearly not used to seeing a well-dressed, good-looking Black couple peacefully hanging out on the town and having a good time. Most Black guys in Ottawa prefer the company of fat White chicks to that of beautiful Black women. I’m not one of them, folks. And Veronique is that rare sister who actually appreciates a good Black man.

Veronique and I watched a movie in my small living room and we talked. I always like to get to know a lady before we hook up. Veronique moved to Canada from the island of Jamaica with her family more than a decade ago. She attended Saint Guillaume Academy, a local Catholic school. Afterwards, she went to the University of Ottawa. At the age of twenty five, she was mere months away from getting her MBA. This sister was ambitious as hell and wanted to work for the big corporations in the city of Toronto. Now that’s what’s up. Veronique is definitely my kind of woman. Five feet eleven and a half inches tall, gorgeously dark-skinned and sexy as hell. And she’s got a good head on her shoulders. If you ask me, she’s just about perfect.

Yeah, I was totally feeling Veronique. And she was definitely feeling me. She was impressed with my apartment. I rent a one-bedroom apartment that has a small living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. I pay four hundred and fifty bucks a month to William Lee, my Chinese landlord. My neighbours are all White folks, with the exception of a couple of Asian families, and a Black businessman next door who is married to a skinny White lady. There is one other Black guy in the building. His name is Tony and he attends La Cite Collegiale, a Francophone University in the Canadian Province of Ontario. Tony is also dating a chubby White lady who is at least a decade older than him. That’s part of the reason why I stick out like a sore thumb in Ottawa, folks. More than the fact that I was born in the Republic of Haiti, I’m considered weird by both Blacks and Whites because I’m a young Black man who exclusively loves Black women.

All those thoughts ran through my head as I watched the movie Hancock with the lovely Veronique. She smiled at me and gently kissed me. When her lips met mine, I felt like an electrical shock had gone through me. I’m usually shy with gorgeous Black women. Especially the tall, sexy ones like Veronique. They’re a little intimidating. Yeah, I can get a bit intimidated. A weird thing for a six-foot-three, 250-pound Black guy to admit, but whatever. Veronique gently stroked my thigh as she kissed me. When our lips parted, she smiled at me coyly. She was in the moment and so was I. Oh, man. I almost panicked. Was I ready to do this? Did I have condoms? Oh, and last but not least. What would Veronique say if she somehow guessed that I had never done this before?

I forced myself to calm down and went with the flow as Veronique gently unbuttoned my shirt. Then came off my pants. I was stripped to my bright green boxers. Mom picked them for me at Wal-Mart. Veronique sat me down on the couch and put on a show for me. Before my amazed eyes, my lovely Black goddess undressed. I watched as she took off her sexy bright red evening gown, then off came the bra and panties. My eyes drank in this vision of beauty. I had seen sexy naked Black women before, but usually on the Internet. I licked my lips. Veronique gestured for me to come to her. I rose to my feet and went to her. She pulled me into her arms and kissed me. Her hand reached into my boxers. I flinched in surprise. Veronique grinned, and began stroking me.

My eight inches of thick, unused-until-now but hard, uncircumcised Haitian manhood stood at attention. Veronique stroked me to full hardness, and then kissed a path from my lips to my throat and down to my chest. Little thrills went through me as her mouth made its way down to my groin area. Until she was face to face with my member. I held my breath. Was she about to do what I think? Veronique took me into her mouth...and I felt weak in the knees. Oh, man. You’ve got no idea how long I dreamed of this. A sexy sister handling my manhood. Veronique began sucking me gently. She didn’t seem to mind that I was uncut. A lot of chicks say they have issues with guys like me. Whatever. I’m natural, as is my father. I don’t think butchering the human body in the name of outdated traditions is a cool thing to do. I closed my eyes as Veronique went to work on me.

My gorgeous lady soon worked me into a frenzy. I shouted out a warning, which she purposefully ignored. When I came, shouting in sheer pleasure, Veronique seemed to welcome the torrent of masculine energy I had become. And she took in every drop of my manly essence. And I absolutely loved it. Veronique didn’t even give me a moment to recover. She just shoved me on the couch and told me she wanted me. Practically out of thin air, she produced a condom wrapper. I hesitated. Should I tell her I had never done this before? I don’t see why. Besides, I was hard again and aching for her.

I put on the condom, and Veronique climbed on top of me. I held my breath as I beheld my gorgeous Black goddess. She was simply amazing. Her full breasts, gorgeously dark skin, wide hips and overall, her gloriously naked body thrilled me beyond measure. Veronique took my member and inserted it inside herself. And just like that, I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Veronique mistook my wonder as passiveness annoying and she grabbed my hands and placed them on her hips. I held her hips firmly as I thrust into her. So that’s what sex was like. Cool. A brother could get used to this. Veronique’s screams of passion mingled with my own as we made love. A first time for me. When all was said and done, Veronique and I fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When I came to, she was already dressed and showered. Veronique smiled at me and wished me a good morning. She thanked me for a wonderful night, and said she had to get going. With that, she left. I was stunned. What a night. Did she know what it meant to me? Did I even know what it mean? It’s not every night that I’m bold enough to step up to the hottest chick at a gala, let alone bring her home with me. Hell, up until a few hours ago, I was a virgin. A smile crept into my face as it all sank in. I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Yes! And the lady I hooked up with never even knew it. Wow. I went into my kitchen to get breakfast, and found an omelette, bacon and coffee waiting for me. Apparently, Veronique had made breakfast. Oh, and she left me a note. The note, which contained her cell number, thanked me for a wonderful night. And in tiny letters, there was something about how she loved taking virgins like me. I was shocked. So she knew! Damn. Oh, well. I’m not a virgin anymore. Look out ladies of Canada because here I come!

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