Why Black Men Need Black Women

Hey, there. My name is Roselyn Xavier. I'm the best friend of a bisexual guy. And I'm in love with him. I first met Jason Des Moulin when we were both seniors at Zulu Academy, a historically Black private school in the city of Boston where the African-American elite of New England have been sending their sons and daughters for years. The school's student body was fifty four percent Black when I went there, and has been steadily climbing since we enrolled. Jason and I graduated from Zulu Academy, affectionately known as Z-Academy, in 2007 and enrolled at Henderson College.

Henderson College is my new home these days, and the setting of my adventures. I'm a six-foot-two, busty and heavyset, dark-skinned young Black woman of Haitian descent. And I've got a really big butt. It's not easy being me. I'm the captain of the women's varsity rugby team, and for the most part life is okay. I embraced my new life. Henderson College is only a few minutes from my family's townhouse on the Back Bay, but it's a whole world away. A world I must adapt to.

Henderson College is at first glance yet another private school in the Boston area. With a difference. It's an HBCU. One of America's historically Black colleges and universities. Sixty three percent of Henderson College's nine-thousand-person student body is Black. But by no means are we a homogenous group. There are Black students from the Boston area, Black students from island nations such as Cape Verde, the Republic of Haiti, Jamaica and Saint Lucia. And there are also Black students from out of state, hailing from places like Atlanta in Georgia, Detroit in Michigan, and Houston in Texas. Even more fascinating are the Black students from South Africa, Zimbabwe, and the Ivory Coast. Yes, we're a diverse bunch.

I chose to go to Henderson College because they were starting the first-ever women's varsity rugby program in the history of New England intercollegiate athletics. And they were offering athletic scholarships too. I've played rugby my entire life. Playing in college is a dream of mine. So I seized the opportunity. The fact that my best friend and lifelong crush Jason Des Moulin was going there also appealed to me.

Jason Des Moulin. My six-foot-three, lean and muscular, dark-skinned and ruggedly handsome Haitian-American stud muffin. He's my dreamboat. He really is. I want to cover him in chocolate and lick him from head to toe. He's the captain of the men's varsity swimming team at Henderson College. One of three African-American swimmers on the team. Even at a Black school, the white students gravitate toward certain sports. For example, the men's football, men's and women's basketball and men's and women's track and field teams are exclusively Black. The women's tennis team has both Black and white students in it. The men's and women's swim teams are mostly white. There are two Black women and one Asian chick on the women's swim team. The men's rugby team attracted a relatively even mix of Black and white members, and a number of Hispanics have joined the team. The women's rugby team has scores of Black, white, Hispanic and Asian women on it. It's the most diverse varsity team on campus.

When Jason's in the water, easily outpacing all the other guys, he's like a demigod. Like one of those ancient African water sprites brought to life. Henderson College offered him scholarships in football, basketball and track and field, all of which are sports he excelled at in high school but he wanted to be a collegiate swimmer. He once told me that Black people need to seriously compete in those sports that are still dominated by whites such as Ice Hockey, Swimming and Alpine Skiing. By becoming captain of the all-new men's swim team at a historically Black college, he saw himself as a pioneer for our people. I love the way he thinks. He has the keen intellect and nobility of spirit that great Black men like President Barack Obama, Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick and Harvard University Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. have. You can sense it in his presence. The guy's going places.

Of course, he will never be mine. For starters, he's bisexual. I'm the first person he told about his bisexuality. I was stunned when he told me, but swore to keep his secret. Apparently, throughout our senior year at Zulu Academy, he was having a relationship with this tall Black guy named Reno Mabuke, the son of wealthy South African immigrants. When Jason's not secretly hooking up with guys, he's chasing chicks. Mostly big-booty Hispanic women and skinny Asian chicks. At least he's not into white chicks but damn. Like a lot of Black college men, he's not that keen on chasing Black women. That's okay because this Black woman doesn't mind doing the chasing.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. I'd be the perfect girlfriend. I wouldn't nag him about useless shit. I would cook for him. I would clean for him. And I'd give him plenty of sex. He would have nothing to complain about. I'd give him plenty of hot, sweet pussy. And I wouldn't care if he's banging other guys when he's not with me. Yeah, we'd have a lot of fun together. In one scenario, I envision me greeting him naked when he comes home. A hero's welcome, as they say.

I greet him with open mouth, and open legs. I kiss him passionately, and he sucks on my tits. He runs his hands all over my voluptuous body, and feels my big ass. He pinches my big butt, and then rubs his hard, thick cock against my pelvis. His dick is really big and he's uncut. I saw it once when he came out of the shower. He thrusts his big cock into my pussy. I spread my legs as he enters me, welcoming him inside of me. I wrap my arms around my sexy man, craving more of him. He slams his dick deep inside my cunt, and I welcome his every thrust. He fucks me energetically. My kind of fuck. It's my fantasy fuck.

Jason continues to pump away, slamming his cock deep inside my pussy. I welcome his every thrust. I scream his name, loving every moment he spends inside of me. He pulls out, and I groan in protest. Jason smiles, and tells me to turn around. I do. He cups my ass cheeks in his hands, and asks me if I've ever been ass fucked before. I say no, since all the times I've shoved dildos up my ass don' t really count. Jason tells me there's a first time for everything. Then he applies something wet and cold against my anus, before pressing his cock against my asshole. I smile. I am dying of excitement. Without a word being spoken, he entered me. I felt a slight pain as his cock entered my asshole, then he gripped my wide hips and began fucking me in the ass.

Jason slammed his cock into my asshole. It hurt. But I welcomed the pain. I welcomed it because I was finally getting fucked by the man I loved. And I wanted to make him happy. Prove to this bisexual stud that women like anal sex too. He doesn't have to chase men all the time. I can take it up the butt as well as any gay man. Chicks have asses too. Know what I'm saying? So I gritted my teeth and let my man pump away. His cock pounded my ass so frigging hard, it's not even funny. I endured it to make my man happy. It wasn't all bad. It even felt oddly good at times. On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a six or seven. The best part? When Jason exploded inside of me, blasting load upon load of his manly cum deep inside my ass. It was hot!

Yeah, that's the kind of welcome Jason Des Moulin would come home to if he were my boyfriend, lover, booty call or whatever. Instead of giving a voluptuous sister a chance, he's chasing the others. Oh, well. Someday he will forget the others and come back to the sisters. Only a Black woman can understand the Black man's needs, wants and struggles on the planet. We're the same species, after all. Others can't understand. They're not like us. They can never understand what makes us what we are. Or why we do what we do. That's why we call them the others. Peace. This sister's out. Waiting for her man to come to his senses, realize what he's missing out on and come home.