Black Couples Love Strapons Too

The name is Monique Jeannette Henderson. A six-foot-one, heavyset, wide-hipped and big-bottomed, beautiful young Black woman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I attend the University of Massachusetts-Boston, where I major in civil engineering. This right here of my tale of getting by in the city of Boston. It’s hard out here for a sister but I’m starting to realize that brothers have it just as tough if not tougher at times.

Take my man Andy Peterson for instance. This six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, chubby but still ruggedly handsome young black man is the captain of the men’s rugby club at University of Massachusetts-Boston. He’s popular, and a gifted student. Yet ever since we’ve been hanging out, I discovered just how lonely he was. Andy grew up in the Republic of Haiti and misses his homeland sorely. I can relate. I live in Brockton and commute to Boston. Bean town may be just a half hour away from the city of champions by car, but it’s a whole other world. I can understand the loneliness that Andy feels, believe me.

Life hasn’t been a bed of roses lately. A lot of things have happened in the world. America elected its first black president. Just a couple of years after the state of Massachusetts elected its first black Governor and the city of Atlanta, Georgia, elected its first black female Mayor. And now a black man is Governor of New York. Wow. Progress has been made. But the fight isn’t over. That’s what I try to explain to my fellow black college students these days. We have to keep working hard to make it. Our people are counting on us. Haitians. Cape Verdeans. African-Americans. Jamaicans. Africans. We’re all just one tribe. The sons and daughters of Mother Africa.

In Andy Peterson, I found a devoted friend and someone who shared my beliefs. He’s the first male friend I made at the university. The fact that he was also bisexual didn’t phase me one bit. I knew there were lots of bisexual black men out there. And as a bisexual black woman, I don’t have a problem with them. My policy is to live and let love. Andy was a really nice guy and I felt really comfortable talking to him. So I shared a painfully private tale with him as we sat down in the Healey Library one afternoon. Last year I was a freshman and got involved with this tall, slim and absolutely beautiful young Haitian woman named Rosa Joseph. She was fine as hell, and an out and proud black lesbian. I was drawn to her and we became friends. She showed me a world I didn’t know existed. The world of out and proud black gay men and black lesbians. Rosa was a member of the Haitian Gays and Lesbians Alliance. An organization based in New York which devoted itself to helping Haitians who happened to be gay, lesbian, bisexual or transsexual. Rosa became my mentor in this new world. And I fell madly in love with her.

Folks, we had a torrid romance. Two beautiful young black women falling in love. I never thought I’d say this but I was madly in love with this woman. I belonged to her. Mind, body and soul. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Rosa. She changed my life and she changed my world. I didn’t know I was into women until I met her. I mean, I had felt some attraction to sexy young ladies growing up but mainly, I was into men. Tall, handsome black men. I thought my interest in women was mere curiosity. Rosa taught me otherwise. Or should I say she showed me otherwise. With Rosa, I learned that there was nothing wrong with two women loving each other. We walked through the halls of the University of Massachusetts while holding hands. I felt no fear or shame. In fact, I was proud. And I thought Rosa and I would be together forever.

Then one day, Rosa shattered my heart into a million pieces. She told me that she had met someone, and fallen in love. I couldn’t believe it. Was she serious? How could she do this to me? I thought she loved me. Rosa coldly told me that she had fallen out of love with me for some time, and simply wasn’t sure how to break up with me. She told me that I was clingy. Too emotionally needy for her taste. Also, she told me that I didn’t satisfy her in bed. I never thought the lesbian bed death would occur between us. I thought we had a passionate, loving relationship. I thought I rocked her world just as much as she rocked mine. Rosa rolled her eyes at me and told me that she would never date a newbie like me again. I asked her who her new love interest was. And it was none other than Patricia Blake, this recently divorced black woman who lived in our building with her son Matthew. I couldn’t believe it! Apparently, she and Rosa had been having an affair right under my nose. Wow.

You think you know someone and then you wake up one day and find out you didn’t know them at all. I thought Patricia Blake was a straight woman. I’d seen her talk to Rosa, but I didn’t think nothing of it. Patricia was a single mother raising a son after her husband Jeremiah left her for her best friend Bianca. Nothing about her exactly screamed lesbian or even bisexual. So I didn’t see her as a threat to my relationship with Rosa. Wow. I can’t believe how naïve I was. Yeah. Just like that, the woman I loved left me for another woman. An ugly older woman too. Wow. It took me a while, but I eventually moved on. Life goes on, as they say. I’m not the first person to get their hearts broken and I know I’m not going to be the last. Rosa and Patricia were going to be together and there was nothing I could do about it. Rather than to fight for someone who didn’t want to be with me, I chose to show myself more respect and move on gracefully.

Since Rosa left me, I’ve gone out with a few gay and bisexual black women and a couple of straight ( as far as I know ) black men. None of them really lit my fire. They weren’t bad people. They simply didn’t make my heart skip a beat, or rock my world the way Rosa did. Not that I was looking for a whirlwind romance. The last thing I needed was to hook up with another heartbreaker. A sexy woman or a hunky man who would stomp all over my heart before shacking up with someone else. No thank you. Next time I romance someone or I get romanced, I’m taking my sweet time to make sure I know who and what I’m dealing with. That’s my policy from now on. Thank you very much.

Once I was done with the story, I looked at Andy. The young Haitian man looked at me. His eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding. Without a word, he took my hand in his and squeezed. I smiled and he smiled back. He didn’t need to say anything. That lone gesture was enough. He let me know he’d be there for me no matter what. And just like that, we were the best of friends. We became inseparable. I’ve never had a male best friend before. Especially a tall, fine-looking bisexual black man like Andy Peterson. I don’t know what I’m in for but I think I’m in good hands. We should all have a good friend who’s a member of the opposite sex. Someone to keep us honest, you know. I think such people bring balance to our lives. I don’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend but Andy is my best friend. And for now, he’s enough.

Of course, one night, that all changed. Hey, even strong Black women have needs. I asked Andy to come over and he ended up spending the night. Man, the stuff we did was amazing. We got naked, and smeared oil all over each other's bodies. Then I took his big Black dick into my mouth and sucked his dick like cock sucking was going out of style. I fingered his ass while sucking his cock and he loved it. When he came, I drank all of his manly seed. Afterwards, I spread my plump thighs and asked him to lick my pussy. He did. He licked my pussy and fingered my snatch with those nimble fingers of his. I loved it. Then, he shoved his dick into my pussy and began drilling his cock into me. I wrapped my arms around him, welcoming him inside of me. I hadn't had any in a while and I wanted to make up for lost time. He pounded my pussy like he was paying for it, and I screamed to high heaven.

We got down and dirty, folks. After he got done fucking my pussy, I got on all fours and spread my plump ass cheeks for him. Yes, this Black sister wanted some anal, and the brother known as Andy was happy to oblige. He lubricated my ass, then slid his cock into my butt hole. It had been a while since I got fucked in the ass but it turned out to be like riding a bicycle. Andy placed his hands on my hips and thrust his cock deep into me. He slammed his cock deep into my ass, making me scream. And I absolutely loved it. He fucked my ass hard until he came, flooding my asshole with his manly cum.

Still not sated, I whipped out my strap-on dildo and made Andy get on all fours. Then I came up behind him and pushed my dildo into his ass. Who says Black men don't like strap-on sex? I fucked him good, drilling my dildo up his ass as he screamed in pleasure. Andy's ass was no virgin and he loved what I did for him. I stroked his cock while pounding my dildo into his ass. We both came who knows how many times that night. And just like that, we went from friends to lovers. It was great.