Black Love in Canada

I just love family reunions. A lot of people say they do but they don't mean it. The name is Guillaume Saint Georges. A tall and slender young Black man of Haitian living in the Confederation of Canada. After graduating from the University of Toronto with a bachelor's degree in Criminology, I moved to Ottawa to attend the local Police College. I'm now an officer with the Ottawa Police Service. I can't stand the city of Ottawa. People down here are narrow-minded, bigoted and honestly kind of dull. And they're not fond of educated and hard-working Black professionals like myself. I guess people like me upset the order of things. To hell with them. I know this world is changing. That's why I'm so happy to be back in Toronto for the family reunion.

While living in Ottawa, I find myself quite lonely. In Canada, everyone is scared of the College-educated and hard-working Black male professional. A lot of 'mainstream Canadians' are lazy and depend on the Canadian Government for everything. Most of them are on some sort of social welfare. The sons and daughters of immigrants from Africa, the Caribbean, Latin America, China and India actually go to University, get their degrees and try to get decent jobs. They put us through hell before and after hiring us so we've got to stick together. I wish minorities living in the Confederation of Canada were as united as the ones living in the United States of America. We all face systemic discrimination at the hands of the Powers That Be. Why not stick together?

A lot of my friends have an issue with me because of my personal preferences. What are my preferences? I'm a Black man who exclusively dates Black women. When my friends and co-workers tried to set me up with White chicks, I simply told them no. I'm not racist. I simply have a preference, pure and simple. I choose to love my own. I love Black women. And they love me. I love all shades and body types among Black ladies. From jet-Black to light brown and everything in between. Tall and short, muscular, skinny or thick. As long as the face is cute and the booty is big. I love all my Black ladies. Most of the Black male professionals in the city of Ottawa mainly or exclusively date White women. And in Ottawa, that's where you'll see the most bigoted White folks in all of Canada. In Toronto, we're cooler and more open-minded. That's because we're more diverse as a population.

I know it's not politically correct to say it but I've got to be honest with you. I can't stand some of these White broads from Ottawa. A lot of them only want sex when dealing with a Black man and when you see them with a successful Black businessman, you got to know they're gold diggers. You'll see them kissing a Black guy in a nightclub downtown and then make racist jokes with their White female friends at the Mall. And the dumb Black guy who met them at a club thinks they really like him. As if. To them he's just a toy. A sexual thrill ride, nothing more. I say this because I've seen it. I swear to high Heaven. Women always say that men sexually objectify them. Well, in North America, the Black male is always sexually objectified. I can't tell you how many times White chicks and gay White men in Ontario hit on me. And all of them wanted only sex. They wouldn't want to be seen in public with someone like me but want me in their bed. I turned them all down. Thanks but no thanks. You've got to be some shade of brown for me to get with you. Have you ever seen a high-profile White woman with a Black guy who doesn't have money? Do you honestly think guys like NBA legend Charles Barkley, artist Seal and professional golfer Tiger Woods would get chased by these White ladies if they were flat broke? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Folks, I worked hard to get where I am. It wasn't easy attending the University of Toronto while working two jobs. I worked as a security guard and I also worked as a night clerk at a small bookstore. When I finally graduated in December 2007, I was twenty three years old. A Black man with a University degree living in the Confederation of Canada. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Join the Police Service like my beloved father before me. Have a brilliant and adventurous career as a policeman in Ontario. Be an example of a law-abiding, hard-working and educated Black male who found success in Canada. And find a beautiful, educated and hard-working Black woman to marry. I want to share my life, my heart and my hard-earned dough with someone like me. Someone Black. Accept no substitute.

Today, I am particularly excited about my pending family reunion. You see, there is someone I desperately want my family to meet. Cassandra Saintil is her name. A six-foot-tall, gorgeously dark-skinned, busty, curvy and big-bottomed young Black woman I met at Saint Laurent Mall six months ago. Cassandra is a graduate of the University of Montreal in the Province of Quebec. She works for the Canadian Revenue Service right here in Ottawa. Cassandra moved to Canada from the Republic of Haiti when she was nineteen, attended school here and became a Canadian citizen. Now she's making good money working for the Canadian Government. Is she cool or what?

I have been smitten with Cassandra ever since we met. And I'm glad she likes me. A lot of tall women don't like to date men who are slightly shorter than them. Cassandra didn't have that problem. My lady liked me for me. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, slim, with medium brown skin, curly Black hair and pale gray eyes. My parents are proud Haitian immigrants. My father, Etienne Saint Georges moved to Canada from the Republic of Haiti in the early 1980s. He was one of the first Black Police officers in the Toronto Police Service. They put him through hell with both covert and overt discrimination but he stuck with it. He's now a sergeant. Like me, he's an alumnus of the University of Toronto. He met my mother, Montreal schoolteacher Fabienne Jean while visiting some friends in Gatineau, a small town in the Province of Quebec. My mother is half Haitian and half White, but since she was raised exclusively by her Haitian mother and family, mom speaks fluent French, English and Creole. My mother knows where she comes from.

A beautiful Black woman who knows where she comes from and where she wants to go, that's my mother in a nutshell. They say guys like women who remind them of their mothers. I find that extremely creepy. However, I must say that at least mentally, Cassandra reminded me of my mother. They're both strong, educated and driven women. It's hard being a Black man in North America. It's not easy being a Black woman in the Confederation of Canada either. Canadians are deeply xenophobic and bigoted. Far worse than Americans. The President of the United States of America is a Black man elected by the people. There are Black Governors, Indian Governors and Asian Congressmen in America. You'll never see that in Canada. Trust me on that one. Ordinary Canadians are an uneducated, bigoted lot who fear successful people of color. That's why they make immigrants jump through hoops around here.

Unlike a lot of Black male professionals who chase White women like their lives depended on it, I decided to hold out for the elusive Black goddess. I knew she was out there. A Black woman who would love me for me. Since moving to Ottawa, I joined a sort of unofficial fraternity. One made up of Black men with College or University degrees working in the city. My best friend is a Jamaican guy named Anthony Steward. He's tall, lean and kind of good-looking. At least the ladies seem to think so. He's got an MBA from the University of Ottawa and works for the Norfolk Corporation. He's making eighty nine grand a year after taxes. Executives in the United States make a lot more but this is Canada. People are cheap here, and corporations aren't any different.

My only beef with Anthony Steward is that he has a thing for fat White chicks. Actually, make that uneducated, unsophisticated and dull fat White chicks. Now, I'm not against interracial dating though it's not something I'm into. However, I wish College and University-educated Black men would date women of equal class and educational level regardless of race in the dating game. That's not how it goes. You'll see a good-looking Black lawyer dating a chubby, matronly White woman who works as a waitress and doesn't even have a College or University degree. You'll never see a White female executive dating a Black male cab driver. See the dichotomy? Black men in the Confederation of Canada don't seem to notice that. I guess they're too busy thinking with their dicks and don't think with their brains. Whatever. I'm not that kind of brother.

My other friend Leonard Saint Paul actually has a good head on his shoulders. He's a tall, kind of chubby and bald-headed young Black man of Haitian and Ethiopian descent. He has an engineering degree from Carleton University and is happily married to a lovely Black woman from South Africa, Kimberly Ntoko. He met his wife Kimberly when they were both freshmen at Carleton University. Kimberly Ntoko has a degree in Accounting and works for a small firm in the town of Kanata, not far from Ottawa. They're in the process of buying a house in the suburb of Orleans and plan on starting a family within a couple of years. See? That is a beautiful thing. Black love, ladies and gentlemen. Pass it on!

I look at Leonard and Kimberly and I see reflections of my Cassandra and me. A Black male professional in a loving relationship with an educated, beautiful Black lady. They're happily married, successful in their careers and in love. That's what I want for my Cassandra and me. We're heading down the aisle soon. First, she must meet my parents, though. Got to get their blessing. No other way around it. We're driving from Ottawa to Toronto. Just in case you don't know, Canada's paltry, bigoted and dismal little capital is quite far from its most diverse and important city. Cassandra and I decided to stop at a Tim Horton's restaurant to grab a bite. The small roadside restaurant was deserted, save for a nerdy-looking white guy at the cash register. We got our coffee and some sandwiches and sat down to eat.

Sitting across from my beloved, I felt quite happy. I simply love my Cassandra. Sitting across from her, enjoying some Tim Horton's restaurant coffee, I loved these simple pleasures. Cassandra winked at me and I smiled. I knew what she wanted, and it wasn't more sandwiches. My lady was feeling frisky. Taking her hand, I went to the men's room. And we got it on. I locked the door behind me and grabbed Cassandra. I sat her on the toilet seat and bent down. Grinning, she kissed me passionately. I felt up her tits underneath her flower-themed summer shirt. I slid my hand between her thighs and noticed that she wasn't wearing any panties. Cool.

I fingered Cassandra's pussy, which was already wet. Cassandra grinned and went straight for my zipper. Out came my dick. Eight inches long, kind of thick and uncut. Cassandra fondled my dick. Quickly she began sucking my dick. What man doesn't enjoy having his dick sucked? I'm not the exception. While sucking my dick, Cassandra fingered my asshole. My woman knows I like having my ass played with. Cassandra surprised the hell out of me by pulling a slim blue dildo out of her handbag. She plugged my ass with it just like that. Wow. My woman never goes anywhere unprepared!

Cassandra sucked my dick while thrusting her dildo up my ass. Needless to say it got me really hard. When I came, Cassandra sucked every last drop of my cum. I sighed in pleasure. Cassandra grinned and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she told me she still wasn't done with me. She wanted to fuck. I hesitated. I didn't have a condom with me. Cassandra shrugged. I took a deep breath. Both Cassandra and I get tested regularly because we're Government workers. We're monogamous and healthy, so what's the problem? That's what I told myself as she took my member and inserted it inside herself.

I placed Cassandra against the wall and raised her legs in the air as I thrust my cock into her pussy. Cassandra moaned and wrapped her legs around me as I fucked her. She went buck-wild. I buried my face between her large, firm breasts and enjoyed the ride. After letting me pump her like this for a few minutes, Cassandra wanted to try something new. Hiking up her skirt, she got on all fours. Talk about getting down and dirty. Shaking her heart-shaped ass at me, it was pretty clear what she wanted. Some down and dirty booty sex. I'm cool with that. I came up behind her and gave her big booty a big kiss. Then I spread her ass cheeks wide open and slid one finger inside her asshole. It felt warm and tight. A moment later I replaced my finger with my dick. Slowly, I eased it inside Cassandra's ass.

Cassandra moaned as I worked my dick up her ass. This wasn't her first hayride. Far from it. Anal sex is something we both enjoy regularly. I held her hips tightly and began thrusting my dick into her ass. I love fucking her in the ass. Cassandra fingered her pussy while I fucked her in the ass. With deep, powerful thrusts, I fucked my woman in the ass and took her for a wild ride. Cassandra screamed in pleasure mixed with slight pain as I fucked her. Face down and ass up, she took everything I had to give. I love the sight of her big round butt jiggling under the force of my thrusts as I pounded my dick up her ass. I pumped her ass until I came. An explosive orgasm rocked me, and I almost fell backwards. It was that intense. Cassandra screamed like a madwoman as I came inside of her. I pulled out of her and we both slumped on the floor, spent.

Moments later, we both left the Tim Horton's restaurant. The clerk was red-faced but grinned wickedly at us as we exited. I winked at him as Cassandra and I left the not-so empty restaurant and got back into my bright red convertible. There were folks looking at us as we left. Tons of folks, in fact. Cassandra and I smiled at them and waved them goodbye. Doubtless they weren't used to having a sexy couple getting their freak on in the men's washroom. Whatever. That's Canada for you. Pale, stale and boring. Both the majority of the population and the country itself. The only people with zest or simple joie de vivre, are newcomers like Cassandra and me. With a song in my heart, I got back on the highway and we sped toward Toronto. The only city in all of Canada worth visiting. The family's waiting for us and we'd best get going.