Bad Romance: Carleton University

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“Anjali, I’m the kind of person who switches gears pretty fast, and it works for me, so, later, it’s your loss,” I said to my ex, a lovely, diminutive and curvy brown gal from Kerala, India, whom I made the mistake of giving two years of my life to. Anjali Shaji looked at me with those big brown eyes of hers, and folded her arms. Shaking my head, I walked away. I really didn’t feel like having an argument.

Why did you do this to us, Anjali? I thought angrily. Once upon a time, the very sight of her made my heart skip a beat, and I looked forward to seeing her. Not anymore. Not after she wrenched my heart out of my chest by telling me there was someone else. Apparently, she’d been seeing a certain Indian fellow behind my back. Isn’t that peachy keen?

“Stefan, that’s just the way it has to me, Sanjay and I are back together,” Anjali said, and I shrugged and continued on my way. My good friend and attorney Francis Tsegaye warned me against getting involved with an Indian woman, since the strong dislike that many Indians have for people of African descent is actually well-known. I ignored Francis’s advice and started seeing Anjali, and look where it got me.

“Whatever,” I replied, and I walked off the third floor of the Carleton University library, the very place where Anjali and I met two years ago, and went for a walk around campus. I needed to clear my head. It was early November, and the City of Ottawa, Ontario, felt lukewarm on this fine Tuesday morning.

I walked from the library to the university center building, and went downstairs to get a coffee. Long line at Tim Horton’s downstairs, but for once I didn’t mind. The wait didn’t seem that bad. I needed to clear my head, as I said before. I have a habit of falling for the wrong woman, and everyone can see what’s wrong with her except for me. Welcome to my life.

A couple walked by, and I found myself staring at them for some reason. Arab guy walking around with a young black woman. Lovely couple. I have nothing against them. Nevertheless, they made me think of those times when Anjali Shaji and I walked around the Carleton University campus, and went to movies and restaurants together, and got stared at, mainly by brown people, ten times out of ten.

I understand the reason for their stares all too well. A lot of Arabs and South Asians have a fondness for women of African descent but hate seeing Black men with Arab women or South Asian women. Fascinating state of the affairs, isn’t it? I found myself lamenting the loss of Anjali Shaji. How I missed her little smile, her charm and wit, and that big ass of hers, of course. Life is beautiful, isn’t it? Pardon my sarcasm.

“Hey, Stefan, is that you?” came a loud feminine voice, jolting me out of my murky thoughts. I turned around and found myself facing a vision of feminine beauty. Six feet tall, curvy and dark-skinned, with long hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. Bleria Olusegun, a lovely young Nigerian woman whom I met on the OC Transpo bus a while ago. We had a long chat about Nigerian politics, which have always fascinated me. I hadn’t seen her in quite a bit.

“Good morning, Bleria, how’s life?” I asked evenly, and Bleria joyfully elmalı escort launched into a long tirade about how wonderful her Law classes were, how much she loved Carleton University, and the various activities her church was involved in. I listened attentively, and smiled. How I remember being that young. I’m twenty seven years old, and in a few months, I will graduate from the Sprott School of Business at Carleton University with my MBA. Bleria is nineteen, so full of life and optimism. It’s…touching.

“You seem a bit glum, Stefan, what’s up?” Bleria paused to say, and I sighed, then gave her the rundown of what happened between Anjali Shaji and myself. Bleria looked at me, and narrowed her eyes. I kind of guessed what she was thinking. Lots of black women don’t like to see brothers with women of other races, and when those interracial liaisons don’t pan out, they mock our suffering.

“Life goes on,” I said finally, and much to my surprise, Bleria gently touched my arm and looked at me with empathy. My turn came and I got myself a coffee, egg sandwich and hash browns, and Bleria got herself some tea. We went to sit together, and had a chat. It’s important to catch up with friends and acquaintances. Quite often, I get caught up in my own mess and forget that other people exist.

“Yo, Stefan, what’s up?” came another voice, a masculine one, interrupting Bleria and I as we sat together and sipped our drinks. I looked up to see Derek Coleman, and repressed a shudder when the tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed jock looked at me and Bleria, and flashed me a frosty smile. Instantly I felt warm in funny places, if you catch my drift.

“Hey, Derek, haven’t seen you in a while,” I said casually, greeting Derek as though he was someone I saw at the gym or in class or something. That’s not exactly true. Derek, who plays baseball for our school while studying architecture, is secretly bisexual, and we’ve had some, ahem, fun moments together, if you catch my drift, ladies and gentlemen.

“We should catch up sometime, have a nice day,” Derek said, and he smiled at Bleria and walked away. Try as I might, I couldn’t forget what happened the last time Derek and I got together at his apartment off of Dynes Road, not far from campus. Derek and I had ourselves some wicked fun while his roommate Alexandra was away for a few days.

“Ride that fuck stick,” Derek said, as I climbed on top of him, and he thrust his long and thick white cock into my ass. We got our freak on right there on his living room couch. Derek always has plenty of lube and condoms at his place, and we used up a lot of both. The stud gripped my hips and began pounding his dick into me, and I screamed passionately as he fucked the hell out of me. Derek really let me have it, and at some point, the burly blond stud put me on all fours and fucked me silly.

“Hmm, just like that,” I cried out, and I stroked my dick as Derek fucked me. While I prefer women most of the time, I do have a thing for well-endowed white guys. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, this big and tall, secretly bisexual Haitian-Canadian gentleman likes to ride big white cocks. There, döşemealtı escort I frigging said it. You can hate me all you want…

Derek fucked me real good, and afterwards, we took a shower together. We chilled for a while, drinking beer and playing video games, then I hopped on the bus back to my place. Good times, folks. Good times. I’m a bisexual man, and appreciate both sexes for all they have to offer. Guys can offer you a good time and lots of fun, uncomplicated sex. Women can offer you a good time and great sex too, but often there’s complications. That’s just the way life goes, I guess.

“Stefan Leconte, are you alright?” Bleria asked, snatching me out of my lust-induced trip down memory lane. I looked at the tall, pretty young black woman who sat across from me and nodded. Bleria resumed talking, going on and on about how better off I was without a certain Indian chick, and I looked at her and smiled as an idea sprang into my head.

“Bleria, what are you doing this afternoon? Let’s catch a movie,” I said, and Bleria hesitated. I wondered what was going on through that brain of hers. I swear, women have to complicate everything. I liked Anjali Shaji, but a love story involving a black man with an Indian woman can’t have a happy ending, but with Indian racism and other factors playing a role. Bleria is cool, and I enjoy her company. Let’s step out and have fun. What’s wrong with that?

“Sounds good, Stefan, what movie did you want to see?” Bleria asked, and I smiled, thanking my lucky stars that for once, I was dealing with a decisive gal and not one of those boring gals who lead you on and drag their feet. I told Bleria about the black historical epic Birth Of A Nation, a movie that got a lot of people’s dander up in the U.S. Personally, I was thrilled that a movie about the life of African-American freedom fighter Nat Turner actually got made.

“Cool, it’s at three o’clock this afternoon,” I said, and Bleria nodded, and brushed her hand up against mine. I looked at Bleria’s hand, then at her, and she smiled. A pleasant frisson coursed through me. I’ve always been the kind of guy who rolls with the punches, and I always seize an opportunity when I see it. Bleria and I finished our meals, and then it was time to part.

“I have class at eleven and I’m done at one, let’s meet up at Starbucks around one thirty before we go,” Bleria proposed, and I nodded. I got up and so did she, and I held out my hand for her to shake. Instead of shaking my hand, Bleria leaned real close and kissed me on the cheek, in the manner of Africans and Afro-Caribbean people. I was surprised, and smiled. Bleria wished me a good day and headed for the eleveator. I watched Bleria walk away, and admired her big ass in the Yoga pants she had on. Damn, I thought with a smile.

I went to class, and afterwards, I returned to the library. It was five past one and I had nothing to do. I went to the nearest washroom, and found it crowded. I took the stairs and went to the fourth floor, and finally found a washroom with more than one stall. Smiling, I went inside. Fortunately for me, there was no one around. So I took out my türbanlı escort dick, which is long, thick, dark, and uncircumcised, and I started to masturbate.

Thoughts of Anjali Shaji and Derek Coleman intruded in my mind, and I banished them. I replaced them with thoughts of the lovely Bleria. I visualized Bleria, with her smooth chocolate skin, her tall and curvy body, her firm-looking breasts and that big chocolate booty of hers. Closing my eyes, I went to fantasyland. I bent Bleria over and caressed her big ass, and she purred like a kitten.

“Like my big Nigerian booty, big daddy?” Bleria asked, in my fantasy, and I smiled and nodded while caressing her big ass, and I slapped it, which made her giggle. I rubbed my hard dick against Bleria’s big ass, and then eased myself into her. Bleria backed that ass up, as they say, and pressed it against my groin. I gripped Bleria’s hips and thrust into her, and just like that, I began fucking her.

“Hot damn,” I whispered, watching as Bleria’s big ass swallowed my dick. I fucked her good, and her tight pussy gripped my dick like a vise. Come to think of it, it had been ages since this bisexual brother had been with a black woman. In the recent past, I’ve mainly dealt with Asian women, a Latina or two, and of course, Derek the white stud. Hmmm, Bleria’s big dark ass reminded me of what I’d been missing and I fucked her good.

“Damn,” I said to myself, wincing as I came, and my eyes snapped open. I took some tissue from the nearby roll and used it to wipe my dick, then I flushed. I pulled up my pants, tucked my shirt in, and zipped up, then I went outside. I admired my reflection in the washroom mirror. A big and tall, handsome brother with an Afro, clad in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland shoes looked back at me. Pleased, I washed my hands and exited the washroom.

“There you are,” I said to Bleria, and the tall, gorgeous Nigerian sister greeted me with a smile and a hug. We stood in front of Starbucks. Passers-by looked at us, a pair of tall, attractive, well-dressed black students. Bleria and I ignored them, and headed out. As we reached the library steps, guess who we ran into? Anjali Shaji, my ex-girlfriend, with a short, balding Indian dude whom I assumed was Sanjay, the guy she’d left me for. Awkward much?

“Make way,” Bleria said sharply, and the tall, foxy Nigerian gal linked her arm with mine as we walked down the library steps and headed for the bright, sunlit quad. Anjali and her boyfriend glared at us but said nothing. I was smiling from ear to ear as Bleria and I made our way to the university center building, which is a heartbeat away from the OC Transpo bus shelters and the O-Train Station.

“Bleria, you’re bossy and fearless, I like that,” I said, and, impulsively, I took Bleria’s hand and brought it to my lips. Grinning, Bleria elbowed me in the ribs and told me to cut it out, but she was still smiling as we boarded the O-Train and sat in the crowded compartment together. What a day I’m having, eh? It can only get better from here on.

Folks, I, Stefan Leconte, am a bisexual black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. While completing my studies at Carleton University, I’ve chased anything that moves. Seriously, I’ve been with women and men of all races. Believe me when I tell you, none of them can hold a candle to the black woman. I swear this on my life. I have a good feeling about Bleria. Just think of the possibilities. Wish us luck, eh?

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