Australian Woman and Black ManbySamuelx©
My name is Caroline Aldercy Shepherd. I'm a thirty-something Australian woman living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I moved to the Confederation of Canada from my native Commonwealth of Australia in April 2009. Life has been a weird mix of ups and downs since then. The great Confederation of Canada is the most xenophobic country on the planet Earth. They're hostile to immigrants, doesn't matter if you're Black, White, Indian, Hispanic, Chinese, Arabic or whatever. I can honestly say that I hate Canadians, folks. I make fun of them every Canada Day. What drove a Australian gal like myself to this cold dump? My estranged husband Henry Wellington is a member of Parliament in the Commonwealth of Australia. He's wealthy, powerful and titled. And he wants me dead after I threw hot coffee on his nuts when he beat me up one time too many.
There are bad men and bad women out there. Lots of us fall in love with them and marry them without knowing what they are. My estranged husband is a sociopath. The fact that he's six feet two inches tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, born into wealth and power, helped mask what he is to the world. The son of a bitch likes to use women as punching bags. When we met at Melbourne University twenty years ago, he seemed like a nice chap. If I only knew then what I know now. All my girlfriends were jealous when we got hitched. Henry Wellington's family is close to the Queen of England herself. Also, he's heir to the Wellington fortune, estimated at sixty million U.S. dollars. I ran away from him and I will never come back. In my eyes, hell is the place I left behind. Compared to that, boring old Canada is an okay place. Especially since it's the place where I finally found true love.
I took a teaching position at the University of Ottawa, and settled into my new life. The job doesn't pay much but hey, it's a living. Teaching is and always will be my first love. I didn't realize it would lead to my other chance at love. It's at the University of Ottawa that I met Stanley D'Argent. A six-foot-three, well-built and handsome young Black man originally from the Republic of Haiti. Stanley is a student in the Telfer MBA Program at the University of Ottawa. This handsome young Black guy simply took my breath away the first time I laid eyes on him. Now, I'm not prejudiced or anything but I've never been into Black guys. We have quite a few in the Australian City of Gosford, New South Wales, where I was born and raised. A lot of the Black guys in Gosford are Aboriginal Australians and a few of them are African immigrants. Stanley was different from them. He carried himself like a prince, without being arrogant. He was also effortlessly brilliant and confident in a way few men are.
I found myself intrigued by this young Black man of Haitian descent. I decided to get to know him better. A meeting of the minds, if you will. Stanley was friendly but seemed a bit distant to me. This proud Black man once told me that he wasn't into White chicks. Something about White Canadian women being cold and fake. Well, I can't blame him for that. I've noticed how fake Canadians are, both male and female. However, I am not a Canadian woman. I'm a visiting professor at the University of Ottawa. I'm still a citizen of the Commonwealth of Australia. I've taught at Cambridge University, damn it! Don't compare a blue-blooded Australian woman like myself to the low-brow, low-class, Hockey-loving and maple-obsessed Canadian hicks you see in the City of Ottawa. I'm a strong and beautiful Australian woman, not one of those trashy North American sluts. The United States of America and the Confederation of Canada are full of trashy White women. I'm above them in every day. I've actually dined with British Royalty on more than one occasion. Take that!
Stanley D'Argent seemed impressed when I told him that. Good. Nice to know this genius could still be rendered speechless every now and then. After we got that out of the way, Stanley and I became friends. He was really friendly and open when you got to know him. He'd been living in the Confederation of Canada for about ten years now. Stanley was a fascinating young man. He's at the top of his class at the University of Ottawa. He also works part-time as manager of an HMV store in downtown Ottawa. His father Jean-Michel D'Argent is a Special Cases Counsellor with the Ontario Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services. Previously he worked as a Corrections Officer, albeit one with a background in Criminal Psychology. Stanley's mother Elisabeth Jean-Baptiste D'Argent died when he was young, and he remembers fondly as a strong Black woman who sacrificed for her family. Stanley's younger sister Mona is a student at Algonquin College in the town of Nepean. The D'Argent family were a close-knit clan of Haitian-Canadians struggling to achieve the North American Dream. I found them fascinating, open and friendly when Stanley casually introduced me to them one afternoon at Saint Laurent Mall.
Slowly but surely my attitude towards a lot of things changed. Stanley's friendship was opening my eyes to a whole new world. I made friends with a lot of African immigrants he introduced me to at All Nations Full Gospel Church, the Ottawa-based church he attended every Sunday without fail. My world was changing and it was taking me by surprise. Stanley was lively, open and lived life to the fullest. I was clustered, bored and worn out by all the nasty turns my life had taken. I wasn't really open with people I didn't know and I didn't trust easily. My world was cold, dreary and limited. I didn't fit in with the other professors at the University of Ottawa with my thick Australian accent and my condescending view of Canadian society. The only person who liked having me around was Stanley D'Argent. And I didn't realize I had feelings for him until I saw him talking to this tall, big-bottomed and extremely dark-skinned Black woman named Madeline Simpson. The first time I saw them together something knotted in my heart. Of course, I was all smiles when Stanley introduced me, his favourite professor, to Madeline, the new lady in his sights. Madeline and I eyed each other coldly. And at once she knew how I felt about Stanley, though I had only realized it moments ago. Nevertheless, the battle was on!
I went home that night feeling confused. I'm thirty three years old. Am I really feeling jealous over a twenty-five-year-old guy? Apparently so. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what should have been obvious to me. My world was cold, dreary and boring until Stanley came into it. He introduced me to the warm and welcoming Black church, of which I am now a devoted member. He also introduced me to Linda Adewale and Paula Mbakwe, a pair of African lesbians who became my friends and confidantes in the City of Ottawa. I confided in them about my feelings for Stanley. And they actually encouraged me to go for it. They had seen the way I looked at Stanley, and knew I had feelings for him before even I did. These African women are really perceptive!
Well, here goes nothing. I am going to tell Stanley D'Argent how I feel about him tomorrow. Tonight, I'm lying in my bed, thinking about my sexy Black stud. God I want him. As I lay on my bed, my mind swirled with thoughts of Stanley. I envisioned him naked, a sexy and muscular Black stud with a handsome face, hairy chest and a big Black dick. In my fantasy I knelt before him and began sucking his long and thick Black cock. I sucked his dick and licked his balls. Really gobbled up his dick in my mouth. Stanley murmured words of encouragement to me as I sucked him off. Once I finished sucking him off, I climbed on top of him and urged him to fuck me. My sexy man put his hands on my hips and thrust his hard Black dick deep into my pussy. I rode him hard, filling my pussy with his cock. Stanley pounded his dick inside of me, fucking me deep. My screams of passion filled the room as we fucked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. I howled in pleasure as I came. My eyes snapped open, and I slowly remembered where I was. In my bed. Alone. My fingers playing with my wet, hairy pussy and bringing me a shuddering orgasm as I fantasized about my Black male crush slamming his big Black dick inside of me.
I slowly caught my breath, and smiled. I can't wait to have Stanley on top of me, pounding at my pussy with his big Haitian cock. Us Australian ladies are notorious for our huge appetite for men of colour. I never thought of myself as the sort to join the club of Australian women who chase Black men like their lives depend on it. I once made fun of such women back in Australia, in one of my not so open-minded moments. Now look at me, naked in bed, drenched in cum after furiously masturbating while thinking of a big Black dick filling my pussy. Wow. I can't wait to get my hands on Stanley. I just need a plan to get rid of Madeline and claim this tasty Black stud for myself. Any ideas? I can't think of any right now, my brain is still swirling with lusty thoughts of Stanley's naked Black ass. Oh, well. There's always tomorrow. I'm sure I can come up with something by then.