tagInterracial LoveBiker Chicks Like Black Men Too

Biker Chicks Like Black Men Too


What's there to do when you've got the winter blues? I know, how about staying home and knitting? The name is Tiffany Evelyn Singleton, and I'm a young woman living in the City of Ottawa, province of Ontario. My friends call me T.E. I'm twenty seven years old, born under the sign of the Aquarius, and I attend Carleton University. I went back to school after a long hiatus, and honestly, I've been having a tough time. It's tough balancing school and work, you know? I work as a security personnel supervisor in the suburbs of Kanata, Ontario, about an hour away from downtown Ottawa. The most boring place in the cosmos. I hate the snow, and anything to do with the blasted winter. Luckily, I know how to make my own fun.

Whenever people meet me, they comment on my accent. I was born in the City of Melbourne, in the State of Victoria, Australia, and moved to the region of Ontario, Canada, fifteen years ago. My father, Liam Singleton, came to Canada because he found a job working for Bell Canada. His Oxford University MBA and University of Melbourne communications degree made him an internationally sought after entity in the world of business. We ended up staying in Canada, and I'm a dual citizen of Canada and the Commonwealth of Australia. In my heart, I'll always be an Australian, though. I hate the snow, I hate hockey, and I hate the Queen of England. I love surfing, I love camping and I love swimming. Don't sound too Canadian, do I?

Anyhow, after graduating from a certain Catholic high school in the south end of Ottawa, I decided that traveling and adventurism took precedence over higher education. That's why I went back to Australia, and worked in construction for a few years. Yes, women can be construction workers too. After working for Bullock Construction Limited for three years in the environs of Victoria State, southeastern Australia, I left Aussie land and returned to the beautiful continent of North America. I lived in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, for a year and a half with Antony Tartaglia, this gorgeous Italian-American real estate guy I fell in love with. One day, I came home and found Antony in bed with our mutual Maria, a short Mexican chick who worked at the diner next to the apartment we shared. I dumped Antony, and left Boston.

I returned to the City of Ottawa, and found that the Capital of Canada had changed somewhat in the few years since I left it. I don't recall seeing so many Arabs, Asians and Africans in Ottawa when I left it for the bright lights of metropolitan Melbourne. All of a sudden I was seeing Chinese guys strolling through Confederation Park with their dogs, hijab-wearing Arab women talking in their cell phones and giggling in Arabic, and tall Black guys in traditional African clothing hugging each other in bars while cheering for Manchester United. How about that? The Canadian capital had become more diverse, racially speaking. Some people didn't like the fact that Ottawa was changing but I actually welcomed it. Finally, this place was becoming slightly less boring, if only because the immigrants were louder and livelier than the average 'typical' Canadian.

I returned to school, because apparently, you needed a university degree to get a good job in Canada and I neglected to acquire one throughout my travels in America and Australia. That's why I enrolled at Carleton University, choosing to major in business administration because I've always had a head for numbers and I'm quite sharp when it comes to money. Starting university at the age of twenty seven, surrounded by guys and gals who are young enough to still be bragging about their first car and getting fake IDs to get into clubs and buy liquor, THAT proved to be a challenge for me.

Given how I looked, I wasn't going to blend in easily. I kind of stand out because, well, I'm six-foot-one, with shoulder-length blonde hair, alabaster skin and pale green eyes. I've got tattoos everywhere. A tattoo of a silver snake starts at my navel and ends in my crotch. Yes, you read right. A tattoo of a red-tailed hawk on my left shoulder. A tattoo of a bear on my inner thigh. Left thigh. A tattoo of a woman holding a dagger on my right shoulder blade. And finally, a tattoo of the Australian flag in my lower back, where the obligatory tramp stamp usually is. My nose is pierced, my tongue is pierced and my clit is pierced. Yeah, I kind of make it a habit of standing out wherever I go. To say that people were staring at me during Orientation Day at Carleton University would have been the understatement of the century. People were gawking, actually.

Yeah, my journey as a new student at Carleton University was off to a rocky start, and not just because I had to tell off some horny guys who made "MILF" comments. I'm twenty seven, and I'm nobody's wife or mother. I am NOT a MILF! I focused on work and school, but quickly found myself longing for my old life of adventure. I missed traveling from town to town, country to country, living life and feeling free. On weekends, I went to Toronto or Montreal, riding my Harley Davidson motorcycle all the way. This bike of mine has seen some miles, man. From the dunes of the Australian Outback to the Colorado desert in the States, and even the Yukon here in Canada. I've taken my motorcycle everywhere I went. Yeah, I'm a biker chick and damn proud of it. I just never thought I'd meet a fellow biker at Carleton University.

One morning, I was walking out of the university center when I saw a tall guy strolling through, clad in a bright red T-shirt, blue jeans and black leather boots. He was good-looking, dreadlocked and of African descent, but that's not why I stared at him. I stared because of the crimson and ebony Yamaha motorcycle he just got off of. With his red and black helmet tucked under his arm, he tugged at his backpack handle, and when he noticed me staring...he smiled politely. I have never been the type to do any pussyfooting so I walked up to the mystery man and asked him what kind of bike he had. He flashed me a bright grin, and told me his "She-Devil" was a restored classic Yamaha. I smiled and nodded. He actually named his bike, eh? Cool. I pointed to my bike and he whistled when he saw it. I'm Adam, he said, offering me his big brown hand. Call me Eve, I said with a grin. And just like that, I met my latest love interest.

Adam asked me to grab coffee with him and I acquiesced. We went to the Tim Horton's near the bottom of the student center, and sat down together. I got to know this tasty morsel of man a bit better. Adam Hafiz was a newcomer to Canada, by way of metropolitan Adaisseh, southern Lebanon. Born to a Lebanese father and Eritrean mother, he was biracial. A six-foot-three, well-built stud with brown skin, curly black hair and light brown eyes. I've seen men of African and European descent before, and some of them were quite cute. This was my first time beholding an Afro-Arabian man, and if Adam Hafiz was any indicator of what the rest of them were like, I might seriously consider moving to the Middle East. He played absentmindedly with the crucifix hanging around his neck and spoke candidly about his adjusting to life in Canada.

With a wry grin on his handsome face, Adam told me he despised the damn snow. I smiled and echoed his sentiment, declaring myself a proud surfer chick, which surprised him. I smiled and told him I was from Australia, the surfing capital of the world. We both laughed at that. It's funny how life takes some odd turns sometimes. A white woman from Australia and a biracial man from Lebanon finding themselves having coffee together in the capital of Canada, talking about how much we both hated the cold weather. Now that's funny!

Adam and I exchanged numbers that day, and since the chemistry was right, we began seeing each other. I've dated men from non-white backgrounds before. I dated an Aboriginal Australian businessman named Raoul Adoni while working construction around Victoria, and we had a nice time together. He was tall, dark and handsome, and a very cultured gentleman. When it comes to men, if I like you, that's it, I like you. I've dated mostly white guys but I don't believe in limiting myself. When I found myself attracted to Adam Hafiz, a man of partial African descent, I wasn't afraid to follow my heart. That's why, after a few fun, awkward and ultimately pretty interesting dates, we became a couple.

Adam and I had chemistry, like I said before, and that extended to all areas of our lives. He was studying accounting here at Carleton University, and was a big help when it came to my business homework, which involved a fair amount of math. Yeah, the guy wasn't just good-looking and well-spoken, he was also smart as a whip. I like that in a man. When we went to the movies, to restaurants or just hung out in malls or other such public venues, he was always charming and attentive. Made me feel like a queen. I'm a die-hard tomboy at heart and most of the men in my life, including the ones I sleep with, tend to treat me like one of the guys. Not Adam. He made me feel very much like a woman, thank you very much. I guess that's why I decided to give him the green light after we'd been seeing each other for a month and a half...

Adam and I had gone to the theater earlier that afternoon and we saw Star Trek II. I am kind of liking the new Spock, the guy from Heroes, though the new Kirk leaves a lot to be desired. We had fun, and afterwards, we ate some Shawarma and then headed back to my place. I live in a two-bedroom apartment in the east end, not too far from Montreal Road. My father wanted me to live with him at his upscale townhouse in Orleans, Ontario, but I told him I wanted to be on my own. In my new neighborhood, I'm surrounded by immigrants. Lots of Haitians, Lebanese, Somalis, Chinese people and others. They've brought their cultures with them, from the Caribbean, eastern Africa and the Middle East, and I love all the ethnic restaurants and shops that they have. Good stuff all around.

Anyhow, after being wined and dined by Adam for almost two months, I wanted to see what he had going on downstairs. Translation? I wanted to get laid. Adam and I sat on my living room couch, making out while RDI news played on the tube. I looked into my handsome boyfriend's eyes, and told him I wanted him. Adam and I began making sweet love right then and there. Off came my tank top, followed by my sweatpants and sneakers. I stood before Adam wearing my bra and boxer shorts. Sorry, I'm not one of those chicks who wears panties. They ride up, they're uncomfortable and they're tacky. I love boxers. They rock. Adam liked mine, and he liked pulling them off me even more.

There I lay, naked as a jay bird, my legs spread, while Adam massaged my tits and licked my pussy. His tongue slid deep into my pussy, teasing my clitoris, and making me moan. His fingers worm their way into me, twisting this way and that, and I shudder. After teasing and pleasuring me like this for a long good while, Adam asked me if I was ready for him. I nodded, and watched as he rolled a condom on his big ole brown cock. Gently, he eased himself into me. I let out a little cry as he penetrated me, for he was kind of thick, you know? Adam asked me if I was okay, and I told him to continue. The sexy Afro-Arabian stud pounded his way into me, fucking me real good. I wrapped my arms around him as he raised my legs in the air and fucked me real hard, mercilessly hammering his cock into my cunt. Had me drooling and cursing as he drilled me, and I absolutely loved it. Now that's what I call a good fucking!

Adam is fun and open-minded when it comes to sexual activity, and that works for me because I wanted him to experience one of my favorite kinks. I pulled my strap-on dildo from my erotica drawer, along with a condom and some lubricant. Adam was a bit hesitant, but I promised him I'd be gentle. And I was. Adam watched me nervously as I put my thing on. I laid him on his back, sucked his dick just to get him in the mouth and fingered his asshole with my gloved and lubricated hands to get him ready. Once his ass was lubricated enough to take two fingers, I deemed him ready. I pressed my dildo against his butt hole, and eased it inside. The sexy Black stud groaned as I penetrated him. Slowly and gently, I pushed my dildo deep inside of him. His dick stayed hard the entire time I fucked him, and I stroked him while pounding his ass. I love fucking guys with my strap-on dildo. Adam is the fourth man I've done like this and I'm not slowing down or stopping anytime soon. Although he was nervous as we began this pegging session, he seemed to like what I was doing to him. So much that he came, hard, while getting his ass drilled by my plastic cock. He was quite surprised at how much pleasure he felt. I kissed him and told him he hadn't felt anything yet. And trust me, I had a lot more in store for him. A lot more.

Yeah, that's how began my relationship with Adam Hafiz, the exotic son of a Lebanese Christian father and Orthodox Eritrean mother who moved to Ottawa, Ontario, for higher education. My beautiful brown man from lands beyond. I honestly think I could fall in love with him. He treats me great, delights me in our outings together, and fucks my brains out when we're in bed. What's not to love about a man like that? He's a tad bit too religious for me and keeps inviting me to church. I keep putting it off because church and I don't mix. I went to Catholic school once, isn't that enough? Still, I just might go one of these Sundays, just to make my new man happy. It's what you do when you're in love, you know?

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