When Latin Women Love Black MenbySamuelx©
Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo looked at Peter Samson's sleeping form, and grinned. The tall, dark-skinned young man whom she affectionately referred to as her "Angelito Negro" or Black Angel, was asleep at last. Hard to believe that this loco American was the same guy she met eight months, when he barged into the Student Affairs Office at the Universidade Catolica De Salvador, better known as the Catholic University of Salvador in the State of Bahia, Brazil. When the strangely attired young man, in heavily accented Brazilian Portuguese asked about the Registrar's Office, she stared at him blankly.
The City of Salvador was one of Brazil's biggest metropolitan areas and it was quite diverse. Lots of mestizos and Latinos along with Afro-Brazilians called the metropolis their home. Yet, as they always did, Americans always stood out. With his Jay-Z T-shirt, FUBU jeans and Timberland boots, Peter Samson was American with a capital A. The Director of Student Affairs, Isabel Monteiros, stared at the brash young man and her eyes flashed angrily. Before her boss could say anything, Marianna flashed what everyone knew to be her winning smile, and told her she'd take care of it. Gently rising to her feet, the tall, curvy young woman walked up to the wide-eyed interloper and asked him, in English, if he would kindly follow her.
The dark-skinned American looked her up and down, grinned wryly and nodded. I'll follow you anywhere sweetness, he said. Marianna tried not to roll her eyes as she escorted the newcomer to the registrar's office down the hall. It was mid-August, and most students had already started moving into the dormitories, and this loco American was asking about registration. Oh, well. She walked him to the registrar's office, wished him the best of luck and went about her business. She could feel the Americano's stare as she walked away. Marianna was used to having men stare at her. Standing five-foot-ten, pleasantly curvy with curly black hair, bronze skin and pale green eyes, she cut a striking figure.
Marianna sighed and extinguished her cigarillo, shaking her head. As far as first meetings went, this one could have gone better. Still, life was funny when you think of it. If someone told her a year ago that she would be sharing her life and her bed with a foreigner, she would have laughed. After all, she'd gotten enough heartbreak from Wilson Sawyer, the tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed Englishman she dated a year before she met Peter Samson. The first time she laid eyes on the handsome gringo, she felt warm in funny places. Wilson Sawyer was a devastatingly handsome man and he knew it. The Oxford-educated Englishman worked for the British Embassy in downtown Salvador, and he exuded wealth, charm and class.
Marianna Vasquez Anselmo knew a beautiful man when she saw one, and Wilson Sawyer was definitely such a man. Doubtless he had a ton of local ladies chasing after him. If there's one thing Brazil doesn't lack, it's beautiful women. From the lovely dark-skinned ladies of the Afro-Brazilian population to the golden-hued mestizo women and the bronze-skinned Latin American beauties Brazil was almost synonymous with, the whole country was teeming with lovely women. Lots of immigrants from places like India and China as well as Arab Christian immigrants from places like the Republic of Lebanon and the Coptic communities of Egypt were adding a lovely diversity to this already diverse and multicultural nation. Yeah, the handsome Englishman had many options, but Marianna decided that she wanted this tasty morsel for herself.
If Wilson Sawyer liked exotic women, he'd soon discover that they simply didn't get much more exotic than Marianna Vasquez Anselmo. Her mother, Maria Vasquez was born and raised in the Dominican Republic, and moved to Brazil while in her twenties. Maria Vasquez was half black and half white, born to an Afro-Dominican mother and white American father stationed in the Dominican Republic while in the United States Marine Corps. After moving to Brazil in search of a better life, she married a tall, handsome Portuguese immigrant to Brazil's most eventful City of Salvador, Guillermo Anselmo. The daughter born to them was a wonderful bland of ethnicities. Marianna Vasquez Anselmo had mixed Afro-Dominican, white American and Portuguese ancestry. Tall and golden-skinned, wonderfully curvaceous with sparkling green eyes, she was a sight to behold, even among the throngs of multiethnic beauties in Brazil.
Wilson Sawyer first came to Marianna Vasquez Anselmo's attention when he visited the Catholic University of Salvador as part of an English delegation. Their eyes met, and from that moment on, life would never be the same for either of them. The handsome Englishman and the lovely Brazilian doxy seemed made for each other. A whirlwind romance followed, and Marianna honestly felt that she had found the one. Wilson was so charming and smart, and he treated her like a queen. Unfortunately, the man she thought loved her turned out to be far more calculating than she could have imagined. Wilson Sawyer, the son of a wealthy British diplomat, had shady dealings with Ernesto the Cobra, leader of Salvador City's most ruthless crime syndicate. He was into drugs and illicit sex with exotic hookers. Ernesto the Cobra controlled the drugs and prostitution game in Salvador City, and Wilson Sawyer was a handsome gringo with money to spend who liked to live dangerously. Marianna Vasquez Anselmo was just another notch on the English thrill-seekers belt. She broke up with him after catching him getting a blowjob from a tranny. Yeah, her prince charming turned out to be a creep.
After that incident, Marianna Vasquez Anselmo swore off men, especially foreigners. They had never been good to the women in her family. Her mother, Maria Vasquez was born in the Dominican Republic to a black woman named Lucia Vasquez and a white American soldier named Shawn O'Malley. The man who was her maternal grandfather ran off after finding out her grandmother was pregnant with her mother. Marianna's mother Maria moved to Brazil hoping for a better life, after enduring racism and poverty in the Dominican Republic as an orphan, for Lucia Vasquez died while giving birth. Maria Vasquez moved to Brazil and thought she had found prince charming in the handsome Portuguese immigrant Guillermo Anselmo, who married her and welcomed her into the beautiful villa he owned. Sadly, Guillermo Anselmo died in a gunfight five years after marrying Maria. The poor woman was left nearly destitute after Guillermo's racist family came from Portugal to claim his riches in Brazil and didn't leave a single peso for his wife Maria and their daughter Marianna. Life was just too cruel.
Yeah, the women of the Vasquez bloodline had lousy luck with men on two continents, and Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo didn't want to be the latest victim. After her disastrous affair with that British fruitcake Wilson Sawyer, she decided to focus on school. She was close to getting her bachelor's degree in economics from the Catholic University of Salvador. Next, she'd either go for her Master's degree in business or Law school. She hadn't decided yet. Her hard work paid off, and the gentleman who ran the school, a Portuguese priest known as Father Pedro Marcelao made her the recipient of a new scholarship for young minority women at the school. Her final year of undergraduate studies, she'd only be charged thirty percent of what she'd normally pay. Yeah, there was a God for the poor people. Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo, a devout Catholic, never stopped believing that one day her savior the Lord Jesus Christ would come through for her.
Yes, finally she was getting her act together. And then along came Peter Samson, the tall and ruggedly handsome young African-American from Howard University in Washington D.C. who was spending a year studying broad at one of Brazil's top universities. After that first meeting in the Student Affairs Office, Marianna didn't give much thought to the black American who dressed like a wannabe rapper. She had bigger fish to fry. Well, one day she ran into him. She was walking around in Lapa, one of Rio De Janeiro's roughest neighborhoods. It was a Friday night and she'd gone to Club Nirvana to unwind, accompanied by her girlfriends Anita Abdullah, a Lebanese Christian immigrant, and Nikki Chang, a foreign exchange student from southern China. Marianna stepped outside the club for a minute to have a cigarillo, and also to check up on her car. That's when she was accosted by a trio of rough-looking guys. They eyed her the way hungry wolves looked at a doe. Marianna had encountered all kinds of dangers in the streets of Brazil and knew that the best way to survive was to cooperate with the baddies. The local police were largely ineffective, and she didn't want to end up yet another dead woman on the street. She showed them her purse, and told them to take it.
The three men laughed, and their apparent leader, a muscular bald guy with tattoos and bronze skin, licked his lips. Clearly he wanted something other than money from her. With a sickening presentiment Marianna realized what he wanted. The lust in his eyes. The threat of violence oozing practically out of his every pore. He wanted to rape her. When he got close enough, she suddenly darted to the right and sucker punched him. He roared angrily, spitting blood. Shouting for help, she ran off. The trio took off after her like a pack of wolves springing after a deer. Marianna ran down the street, and ended up in a cul-de-sac. A blind alley. Just what she needed. Great. Her back to the wall, the young woman made her last stand. Frantically she looked for a weapon, anything that she could use. Finally, she took off her stiletto and held it in front of her. The leader of the trio laughed and his two acolytes, a burly mestizo and a short, stocky Indian guy, flanked her. As if there was any chance of her escaping. Marianna gritted her teeth, bracing for what she knew was coming. They wouldn't take her alive if she could help it...
Marianna braced herself for the fight of her life...and it never came. A shot rang out in the air, and the three men encircling her looked nervously behind them. Maybe the local police weren't as ineffective as the Brazilian populace believed. Marianna looked past her attackers, and instead of the policemen she was expecting, she found a tall, dark-skinned young man. Amazingly, even in the sweltering heat of the Brazilian night, he wore a black and gold leather jacket. In his right hand he had the proverbial smoking gun, holding it sideways. He looked like he knew how to use it, too. The black man glared at the three gangsters, and told them, in heavenly accented Brazilian Portuguese, that he'd shoot their balls off if they didn't get the fuck out of there. The three gangsters looked at each other, then at their intended victim. The leader, the one Marianna previously decked in front of his buddies, hesitated. The black man cocked his gun with a very loud click, and that seemed to be all the convincing that the gangster trio needed. They held their hands up and took off like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs.
Marianna looked at the tall black gunman who just saved her. He put his gun back in his jacket pocket, and asked her if she was alright. Marianna nodded, still shell-shocked by what had just transpired before her eyes. Her eyes widened when she realized that she knew her defender. Could it be? Why, yes, it was him. The cocky black American guy from school. He looked at her and seemed to recognize her as well. Stroking his small goatee, he asked her if he knew her from somewhere. Marianna nodded, told him her name and reminded him of where they first saw each other. The Catholic University of Salvador in Salvador City, Bahia State. The American looked at her and smiled, recognition lighting up his dark, handsome face. He told her his name was Peter Samson, and was about to say more when suddenly, two police cars pulled up into the blind alley. Damn it not again, Peter grumbled. He shot Marianna a wry grin and rolled his eyes. Police are always after a brother, he sighed.
Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo watched with disbelieving eyes as the police came, and eyed Peter Samson, her savior, suspiciously. Before he could say anything, they had already drawn their pistols and ordered him to get on his knees with his hands behind his head. Shaking his head, Peter Samson complied. Helplessly she watched as they manhandled the man who just saved her, before searching him, taking away his weapon, and hauling him away to prison. A dark-haired and alabaster-skinned policewoman who looked so much like a gringo that she had to be a European immigrant talked to Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo, taking statements from her. She kept telling them that the black guy they hauled away wasn't one of the thugs seen running after her, that he came along and saved her from these very same thugs, whom the police had yet to apprehend. Without him, they would have raped her and then killed her. Such was the fate of many young women in Lapa, the toughest area in all of Brazil.
When Marianna returned to the club, she told her girlfriends what happened, and they decided they'd go to the United States Embassy first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, Peter Samson spent the night in a Brazilian jail, having to fight against some of the country's meanest roughnecks just because he was the new guy and they all wanted a piece of him. The young African-American sighed, as he got hauled to a single occupant cell after knocking out a burly Latino guy who called him something derogatory. The next morning, Peter Samson expected to face arraignment but was surprisingly told that he had some visitors. Actually, he had three visitors. A short, pretty blonde-haired white lady who claimed she was sent by the U.S. Embassy, an Arab-looking broad and that fine-looking Latin chick from the night before, Marianna. He smiled brightly at them. Damn, he was getting rescued by Charlie's Angels...
Peter Samson rescued a damsel in distress and found himself in a boatload of trouble for it. The authorities in Rio De Janeiro wanted to charge him with illegal possession of a firearm, and they simply weren't buying his story that he took it from one of the very same gangsters he supposedly rescued Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo from. The U.S. Embassy was doing what it could to furnish him with an attorney and they even posted his bail, but even they had their limits. Yeah, Peter Samson had left America for Brazil and he still had the same problems. Being a black man in a big metropolis meant trouble for him in the form of women and cops. Yup. Not much had changed. Still, there was an upside. Marianna seemed to really take a liking to him. In fact, she invited him out to dinner to thank him properly for saving her fantastic-looking ass. How could a brother say no to that?
Sitting across from Peter Samson inside Puerta De Los Angelenos restaurant in downtown Rio De Janeiro, Marianna smiled. The cocky American was definitely not what she expected. He was friendly and charming, and not at all full of himself like she thought he would be the first time she saw him. He seemed a bit rattled after spending a night in a Brazilian jail, but other than that he was fine. Again and again she told him how sorry she was for getting him in trouble. Peter smiled at her and gently touched her arm, telling her that she was absolutely worth it. She blushed when he said that, and he grinned. There's that cocky look again...Peter Samson smiled at her in that knowing way of his, and continued with his questions. He seemed fascinated by her, and didn't care to hide it. Marianna found that she was not at all bothered by the attention he paid her. In fact, she welcomed it. So when he asked her to go to a movie with him that night, she said yes.
They saw La Virgen De Los Sicarios, published in English as Our Lady of The Assassins, the story of a gay writer who gets involved with a gun-toting gangster in Medellin, the toughest town in Colombia. The movie moved Marianna to tears but left Peter Samson pensive. When queried on his pensive mood by Marianna, he surprised her by sharing something intensely personal with her. As they sat on a park bench and talked, he told her quite a bit about himself. Peter told her that he grew up in the mean streets of Maryland, bouncing from one foster home to another. At some point he got involved with one of Washington D.C. toughest gangs, and was pulled away from the street life by Contessa Fuertes, an elderly Brazilian-American woman who took him in. Thanks to her, he walked off from the path of darkness he was on. He returned to school, got his GED and even won a partial scholarship to study Criminal Justice at Howard University. Contessa Fuertes was the loving parent that peter Samson never had but always wanted. Thanks to her, he developed a love of learning and a fascination for Brazilian culture. Hence why he was studying at the Catholic University of Salvador right now. Peter wanted to know more about the culture that birthed the woman who was his own personal hero...
Marianna gazed at this strange young black man whom she was just getting to know. Even though she hadn't known him long, she felt something for him. She told Peter how sorry she was for the way the police treated him that night, and shared something personal with him as well. She told him about her previous beau, Wilson Sawyer the Englishman, and how he abused her trust and damaged her faith in the male of the species. Ah, the long list of men who wronged the women in her family, she recalled bitterly. Forever haunted by racism and poverty as women of color in the treacherous worlds of the Caribbean and Latin America. Yeah, she had seen more than her share of suffering in the world, but she also knew there was some good left in the world. Gently, she laid her hand on his arm and told him he had a friend in her. Peter Samson looked at her and nodded. They exchanged a look, then without a word, he hugged her.
Peter Samson agreed not to leave the country with his pending trial, and agreements were made between the Brazilian government and the United States Embassy. He would have to return to Rio for his trial for gun possession, but charges were eventually dismissed after the police investigators finally chose to believe Marianna Vasquez-Anselmo's story which corroborated Peter Samson's statement. Peter Samson was a free man. That night, he took Marianna dancing to celebrate. As she twirled in his strong arms on the dance floor of Club Havana, Marianna smiled and finally let go, following her growing passion for this fascinating young man instead of giving into her own insecurities. They danced the night away, and when she boldly invited him back to her dorm, he showed her what he was really made of.
Marianna woke up with her body pleasurably sore after a night of fun. It had been so long since a man had visited her lovely curves, and Peter definitely enjoyed every inch of her. He was gentle at first with her as they undressed, and he worshipped her body. Kissing her succulent lips, suckling at the areolas of her breasts while teasing her clitoris with his agile fingers. Cupping her big, round buttocks as he buried his face between her thighs, licking her pussy like his life depended on it. Marianna had lain on the bed, mouth slack, moaning in pleasure as Peter lashed her cunt with his tongue. Later, she returned the favor by grabbing hold of his thick, erect and uncircumcised ebony rod. She tasted him first, then engulfed his dick head in her mouth. How he moaned as she fingered his ass while sucking him off. She knew it would get his rocks off. Her knowledge of male anatomy hadn't been dulled by a year of celibacy...
Continuing with their wanton fun, Marianna rolled a condom on Peter's member, then climbed on top of him. The handsome stud buried his face between her big, firm breasts as he thrust his member deep into her pussy. Marianna rested her hands on Peter's broad shoulders and hung on for dear life as she rode him hard, welcoming every thrust of his big cock into her pussy. She hadn't gotten laid in quite a bit and wanted to make up for lost time. Well, Peter was perfectly willing to help her with that. And he did, for hours on end. She fell asleep with her head resting on his hairy chest, listening to his strong and steady heartbeat.