Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The name is Teejay Volmar. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the Meadowlands area of Ottawa in the province of Ontario, Canada. I’m a third-year student at Carleton University, majoring in Criminal Justice. I recently moved to Canada from the U.S. I spent the past ten years in Brockton, Massachusetts. The City of Champions. I miss my old town sorely. It was so wonderfully diverse. Today, another town is in my consciousness. The city of Cap-Haitien, in Northern Haiti. Ever since the Earthquake hit, I’ve been calling my relatives frantically, trying to make sure everyone is okay. My parents, Francois and Elsie Volmar still live there. My folks don’t like to venture to the capital city of Port-Au-Prince, the place that has been hit worst by the Earthquake but you never know. I just want to hear their voices again.
I’ve called my other relatives all over the place. I’ve called up relatives such as my cousins Mario and Nessa in Brentwood, New York. I also called my aunt Carmen in Copiague and my grandmother Clothilda. So far, no one’s called me back. I certainly hope my uncle Bob, who lives in Port-Au-Prince, is doing alright. Man, I can’t stop worrying. I’m a nervous wreck. I went to the local convenience store and bought some more phone cards to call up family members.
Again, nobody’s picking up. Of all the days for them to be acting funny. The international community seems willing to help. I sure hope they do. There are many lives at stake. My beloved Haiti has enough problems. Why did we have to have a frigging earthquake on top of it? As if the political strife, the gang violence and the economic crisis weren’t enough. I mean, we Haitians are a strong, resilient people but enough is enough. What you won’t read anywhere is the fact that we’re the most resilient people in the Western Hemisphere but the universe has got to give us a damn break. We’ve got enough problems.
I feel so awful about the whole thing. I’m an able-bodied young man. If I were in the Republic of Haiti right now, once I made sure my folks were alright, I’d be in the capital city trying to help. Unfortunately, I’m not. And I can’t go back to Haiti to help my people. Why? Long story. Involves a complicated, international immigration deal gone haywire…ten years ago. I can’t leave Canada…yet. More than anything I wish I could help my people. I’m going to send my relatives some money via Western Union…and I’m also going to donate to the international relief efforts which are trying to help my countrymen right now. We so didn’t need these kinds of troubles right now. We’re a small country with a rich history and unique culture. We’re not the richest land out there but we hold our heads high in tough times. For this disaster to befall us now, well, let’s just say that the universe is too cruel…
I went to visit my friend Rosa Torino after classes ended at Carleton University. Rosa and I have been friends for quite some time. This five-foot-ten, chubby and big-bottomed, dark-skinned Brazilian chick is one of my closest pals. When I came to Canada a few months ago, I was a wreck. In more ways than one. I had recently graduated from Brockton Community College with my associate’s degree in Criminal Justice and lacked the funds to continue with my education. Moving to Canada and becoming a legal resident there seemed like a good idea, but I would miss my life in Brockton sorely. Brockton is the most diverse town in New England.
Fifty two percent of the one-hundred-thousand-person population is of African-American, Hispanic, Middle-Eastern, Asian or Cape Verdean descent. Moving to Canada meant living behind one of the few places in the world where I actually felt like I fit in. A big and tall young Black man walking through downtown Ottawa sticks out like a sore thumb in this bastion of Whiteness.
The same young man walking through Brockton doesn’t get a second look from the locals. In the city of Brockton, Massachusetts, izmir escort racial diversity is here to stay. Brockton is well on its way to becoming a Chocolate City, like the towns of Washington D.C. and Oakland along with Detroit and Atlanta. Like Harlem used to be before scores of African-Americans moved out and the Asians, Whites and Hispanics moved in.
Another thing I missed about Brockton is the gay nightlife there. There are lots of gay and lesbian clubs in the city of Brockton. For a bisexual guy like myself, it was a lot of fun. Ottawa doesn’t really have a gay scene or much of a night life. Whether you’re straight or gay, you’ll soon realize nightclubs in Ottawa truly suck. And not in a good way. Rosa tried to get me to go out to a few clubs but the scene didn’t appeal to me. Girls or guys, Ottawa’s residents didn’t appeal to me sensually.
These folks are strange. They’re too fake. Also, there’s an almost tangible racism in certain spots in Ottawa. Canadians like to say they’re the most friendly people on the planet. I beg to differ. I’ve encountered a lot of racists in Canada. Mostly old white women ( and men ) who gave me shady looks when they ran into me at the mall or on the bus. I also ran into something weird. Racist Asians who gave me dirty looks simply for being a Black man entering their stores or restaurants.
These same Asians were very friendly and almost subservient to the white people entering the premises. How about that? Asians who hate Blacks but love white people. Amazing. Really amazing. I guess they’ve forgotten that it’s white people who tried to take over Imperial Japan, and it’s white people who stormed Vietnam and it’s also white people who continue to keep the Republic of China at arm’s length on the international scene. And let’s not forget the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. When have Africans or African-Americans ever mistreated Asians en masse? I don’t know. Yet they hate our guts. Weird, man. Really weird.
Anyway, I was chilling at Rosa’s place. Trying not to think about the horrors Haiti’s men and women were enduring in the capital city right this minute. I thought of my memories of Haiti. The beautiful country where I grew up. Surrounded by my loving family. My father’s an airline pilot and my mother is a schoolteacher. We lived in a nice house in the upper-middle-class neighborhood of Bel-Air, not far from the big city of Cap-Haitien. I attended College Notre Dame Du Perpetuel Secours, an all-male Roman Catholic school. My sister Ariel attended Sisters Saint Joseph, an all-female Catholic school. We lived okay lives, I guess.
People visiting Haiti from the western world never see the raw beauty of the island, the strength of its men or the charm of its women. They never venture outside of the messy big cities. They never explore the clean, quiet and peaceful countryside. Realm of the big farms. The true heart of the Haitian Nation. I grew up in a nice area. The small town where I grew up was clean and crisp, and quite peaceful. Of course, CNN never shows this. They only show the pain and misery, never the good times and the good people. Reporters are nasty people if you ask me. Exploiting the pain of others is how they gain their lives. I think I’ve seen sharks with more heart.
I drifted to sleep on Rosa’s couch, watching the disturbing images of my country on CNN. I thought of my loved ones, and not just family members. I thought of my ex-boyfriend Jeffrey Jean in the city of Brockton. He’s a tall, lean and light-skinned Haitian-American stud who runs cross country for the University of Massachusetts. Like me, he’s bisexual. We had a passionate relationship for two years before I left Brockton for good. Jeffrey has family members in the region of Saint Marc, which isn’t far from Port-Au-Prince.
I’ll have to call him to make sure his people are doing alright. Jeffrey and I didn’t exactly end things well. He alsancak escort dumped my ass and got engaged to this big-booty Haitian chick named Nadege Simon. Some broad he met at Northeastern University. I guess Jeffrey’s decided to give heterosexuality a try. I don’t think his relationship with Nadege Simon is going to work. He likes guys and girls. That makes him bisexual. Whether he admits it to himself or not. It’s not something that magically goes away.
Jeffrey and I did have some good times together. I remember one time we hooked up in my old house on Mash Street in the west side of Brockton. It was a Friday night and all my relatives were gone. My aunt and uncle had a date night, and my sister was out with her newest boyfriend. I stayed home, watching Stargate reruns on the Sci-Fi Channel while eating some Chinese food. Jeffrey dropped by and we watched TV together. Since we were two horny bisexual guys home alone, we got busy. One minute we were making out on the couch and next thing I knew, we were buck-naked. Jeffrey stroked my long and thick, uncircumcised cock and squeezed my balls.
I loved it when he did that. I kissed him passionately and ran my hands all over his sexy naked body. I’m six-foot-one and kind of chubby, with lots of hair…everywhere. Jeffrey was six-foot-four, lean and athletic, like an Olympic sprinter. Hot damn he looked good. I stroked his big dick and took him into my mouth. I sucked his cock and got him nice and hard in a matter of minutes. Jeffrey put on a condom and bent me over the sofa. Next thing I knew, he was pumping his cock into my ass like his life depended on it. I stroked my dick as Jeffrey slammed his cock up my ass. He fucked me good. Hard and fast, just the way I liked it.
After we fucked, Jeffrey and I got dressed and went back to watching TV. He left around eleven, shortly before my aunt and uncle returned. Yeah, we had some good times together. I was snapped out of my erotic reverie by the sound of Rosa asking me if I wanted something to eat. I shook my head, then looked at her. To my immense surprise, Rosa was wearing a bra and panties, and nothing else. She smiled when she saw how shocked I was.
She asked me if I’d ever seen a nearly naked woman before. I laughed. Of course I had. Before I discovered the flavor of other men, I used to bang a lot of chicks. Haitian chicks. Jamaican chicks. Japanese chicks. Cape Verdean chicks. Mexican chicks. I’ve been around the block in Brockton. Still, sex with women isn’t as much fun as sex with guys. Guys take care of other guys sexual needs. Women are quite often selfish lovers. And heterosexual men spoil them rotten. In the bedroom, it’s all about them. I don’t like that. It’s got to be reciprocal otherwise what’s the point?
Rosa asked me how long it had been since I fucked a woman. I chuckled as I thought about it. The last woman I fucked was Madeline, this chick I met at a laundromat a couple of years ago. She was tall and curvy, half Haitian and half Irish, and was really good at sucking dick. She had a sweet pussy too. We had fun. Then I met Jeffrey and that magic dick of his hypnotized me and I forgot all about Madeline.
I told Rosa about my adventures with Madeline, wondering where she was going with this. Rosa grinned seductively, and told me she’d fancied me for quite some time. I smiled. Hmm. She walked toward me, and took my hands into hers. She placed my hands on her big ass, and told me to squeeze. Well, squeeze I did. Rosa grinned, then she kissed me. I kissed her back. Next thing I knew, we were all over the living room. I unzipped my dark gray pants and took off my red and blue Haitian Pride T-shirt. Rosa looked at my big and tall, rugged body.
The big Black woman licked her lips, apparently she liked what she saw. She went straight for my dick. Rosa took my dick into her mouth and began sucking it like there was no tomorrow. I leaned back buca escort on the couch and tried to relax as she sucked me off. I was amazed at how good she was at sucking cock. Most women aren’t good at sucking dick. I usually don’t even bother asking my female lovers for oral sex because they usually do it with some reluctance and not much gusto or talent. Rosa was apparently the exception. This chick sucked cock with as much gusto as some gay men I’ve known. Cool.
Once Rosa had me nice and hard, she wanted to ride me. I pulled on a condom and began fingering her hairy pussy. Apparently, this chubby Brazilian mama didn’t believe in shaving down there. Cool. I don’t mind. Personally, I don’t shave below the neck. I think it’s unmanly. Rosa’s pussy was already wet. She urged me to fuck her. I watched as she got on all fours, face down and ass up. Hmm. I guess she likes doggy style fucking. I put my hands upon her wide hips and thrust my cock into her pussy from behind. I fucked her nice and slow, but she apparently liked the rough stuff. As requested, I fucked her harder. Rosa squealed in delight as I fucked her.
We went on like this for a few minutes, then tried something else. To my great surprise, Rosa wanted to try anal sex with me. Wow. Talk about a shocker. I have fucked some guys up the ass and a couple of guys have fucked me but I’ve never fucked a woman in the ass before. I was under the impression that most women didn’t like anal sex. Rosa laughed and said I had a lot to learn about women. Spreading her plump ass cheeks, Rosa told me she probably liked anal sex more than I did. Well, we’ll see about that. I lubed up her ass, then pressed my dick against her anus. With a swift thrust, I entered her backdoor.
Upon penetrating Rosa’s asshole, I noticed how warm and tight her asshole felt. Rosa slowly exhaled as I entered her. Her asshole gripped my dick like a vise. Wow. She asked me how it felt. I shrugged. A hole’s a hole, to tell you the truth. I told Rosa it felt good. Gripping her wide hips tightly, I began fucking the big Black woman’s tight asshole with gusto. This was my first time fucking a woman in the ass and I intended to enjoy it. I slammed my dick up Rosa’s asshole. She howled as I fucked her. Laughing, I pinched her big butt cheeks as I drilled her ass. I wanted to make her big shapely ass pay for being so damn tempting.
Just because I’m a bisexual guy doesn’t mean I don’t find a piece of chunky female ass unappealing. In fact, I kind of like big women with big butts. Still, I had no idea anal sex with a woman could be so much fun. I thought fucking guys up the ass and having them shove their dicks up my ass was the greatest thing in the world. Rosa’s asshole felt different from a guy’s. Not better, just different. Cool. I fucked that supple ass of hers until I came. I pulled out, and removed the condom. Rosa turned around abruptly and took my cock in her mouth. She drained me of my fluids. Kinky. I liked it. Rosa grinned, and told me she’d been wanting to do this for ages. I smiled. It’s all good.
I went back to watching CNN, praying that my fellow Haitians were okay, especially my family members. I’m dialing up my parents every hour on the hour, hoping for good news. I know my people will get through this. I fell asleep on the couch with Rosa next to me. When I woke up, the phone rang. It was my dad, calling me from Haiti to let me know he and mom were alright. I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear his voice. I promised to send him and mom some help, though he was reluctant to accept. It’s times like these that makes a man realize what the important things in life are. In the end, all that matters are the ones who make your world worth living in.
Rosa snuggled up to me on the couch, and changed the channel. She was right, I guess. I already planned to send aid to my countrymen in Haiti and to my family. Watching more footage on CNN would only sicken me. Especially since I couldn’t magically go there and make everything better. I’m a man, not a god. I pulled Rosa closer to me and kissed her forehead. Rosa kissed me back, and we began watching a rerun of the television series Andromeda. Took my mind right off the world’s troubles…well, that and our hookups later. We all deal with tragedy in our own way.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32