Bad Romance: Strap-On Night

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The last Saturday of August 2012 came, and I found myself feeling blue. The name is Steven, and I’m a big and tall Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the town of Cap-Haitien in the Republic of Haiti and raised in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. From 1999 to 2009, I lived in the heart of New England but in mid-November 2009 I moved to the region of Ontario, Canada. Family troubles, and economic difficulties drove me from the lovely New England which I loved to seek greener pastures elsewhere. I adjusted to life in Canada even though it wasn’t easy. The life of a Haitian-born American guy in the Confederation of Canada isn’t easy but I would like to think I managed fairly decently.

Since moving to the City of Ottawa, my life has changed. I learned to speak French and Haitian Creole in my native Haiti but spent years without using either language while living in America. In the Capital of Canada, they both came back to me pretty quickly. I began searching for my place in that ever-changing world which is Canada, I guess. I was seeing a tall, beautiful young Afro-Caribbean woman for most of the summer. June. I met her at the Blair Cineplex in the east end of Ottawa, when I went to see the movie The Dictator. We met there, and totally clicked. We exchanged phone numbers and began seeing each other. I can honestly say that in my twenty five years upon the earth, I have never met someone I got along with better. June was wonderful, and we had similar tastes in movies, comic books, and other things I found interesting.

The gal was friendly, generous and open. When we went out, we often went Dutch, though with my old-school instincts I had to learn to compromise. It’s a new century and sometimes on a date, a gal wants to pay and she can if she wants to. June was amazing, and I honestly was starting to think of her as my other half. We got along wonderfully, and we thought along the same lines. She studied Police Foundations at La Cite Collegiale, a French-language community college located in the east end of Ottawa and I am studying Criminology at Carleton University in the southern bend of Ottawa. We seemed like a good match. I’m originally from Haiti as I mentioned before, and June came from the Caribbean as well. Her father is Trinidadian and her mother is Haitian, making her at least partially one of my people. I was really fond of her, but in time our relationship began to break down.

From the beginning of June until the end of July, things were simply wonderful between June and I. She warned me that our relationship was going to change in August, because of external factors. The whole time we were going out together, June told me that she was working as part-time staff at a certain retirement home/hospital near downtown Ottawa. Apparently her hours got reduced or so she told me, and she said she didn’t have much money for going out anymore. I told her that she mattered to me and I’d be more than happy to cover our expenses when we went out. Little miss independent woman simply wouldn’t go along with that, and for this and a few other reasons, we began seeing less and less of each other. This began to really bother me and I told her as much. June promised bahis firmaları me she’d try just for me, but things still didn’t improve between us. That’s a sad state of the affairs because I liked her very much.

For the month of August, I didn’t see much of June but for those times we did see each other, I tried to make our relationship work. As a lot of my female friends pointed out when I told them about my struggles with the turn my relationship with June had taken, I was the only one trying. And the thing about relationships is that they’re supposed to be about two people. I really liked June so I tried and tried, remembering how wonderful things were between her and me during the months of June and July. I thought we could recapture that fire, and I tried my best. I was extremely patient with her. I met other guys and gals who showed some interest in me. Most notably this Asian gal named Andrea who has been after me for a while, and this biracial Montreal chick at school, Wanda-Lynn Coleman. I turned them all down because I thought what June and I had was special. I guess I was blind to her faults, because at the end of August, our relationship came to a sudden ending.

You see, the last Friday of August 2012, June and I had plans to see the movie Expendables 2 at the Blair Cineplex, the place where we met. Guess what happened? She told me she couldn’t make it because she had to go to work. I ended up going to see the movie solo. Guess who I saw sitting inside the Blair Shopping Center with two of her friends, laughing and eating Chinese food when she was supposed to be at work? None other than June. The bitch lied to me, man. I walked away that day, crestfallen. When it comes to women, I sure know how to pick them, eh? I was ready to give June my heart and she did this to me. I guess she wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. Um, she could have told me. I mean, seriously, why the games? Oh, well. I felt really bad but I wasn’t going down like that. I asked my friends, especially my lady friends Fatima and Wanda-Lynn, what they thought I should do. They told me to cut June out of my life because she was a lying bitch and didn’t deserve me. You know what? Sounds good to me!

I stopped calling June, I blocked her on Facebook and Twitter, and tried to shut her out of my life. Guess what? She began calling me a lot more than she did before. Just like my female friends thought she would. I had her number. I didn’t want to speak to her, or have anything to do with her. That woman played me for a fool. I needed to get her out of my system because I did think about her more than I thought I should, even after our breakup. I was told by my good friend Wahid, a Lebanese guy from the Arab church near my apartment in the east end, that the best way to get over a woman was another woman. I sat inside the university library, browsing online. I needed to get June off my mind. Absentmindedly I began looking at escort ads in Ottawa. A sexy chick offering no-strings-attached sex for money just might be what I needed. I used escorts before I met June. I stopped because I had feelings for her. Now I knew better. I wanted to get back to the wild side.

I browsed through dozens of escort ads until kaçak iddaa I came across a promising one. A feisty, big-booty young Black woman whose ad said she aimed to please. The name? Miss Keisha. Probably not the name her mama gave her but whatever. I called Miss Keisha and asked her if she’d be down for some fun the last Friday of August 2012. She told me that she couldn’t, but she’d be free on the following Saturday. I was okay with that. Saturday night around eight I walked ten blocks from my apartment to the nearby Scotia Bank, where I withdrew 120 dollars. Then I walked to the normal-looking house where Miss Keisha and ladies like her did their thing. I called to let her know that I was there, and I was let in by some Hispanic dude. I went upstairs, and finally met with the lovely Keisha. And she was lovely indeed. Five-foot-nine, thick and sexy, with dark brown skin and neatly braided hair. A fine-looking young Black woman. She smiled when she saw me and I introduced myself as Steve. We talked about business. For regular intercourse she charged one hundred and twenty dollars for a half-hour session, as advertised online and on the back pages of a certain sunny Ottawa newspaper.

I told Keisha what I had in mind, and she smiled at me. Apparently, kink and domination, along with all things related to fetish and BDSM were right up her alley. I didn’t know there were young Black women into BDSM. Nice. Keisha and I got started with our fun. I got undressed in the room and lay on the bed while she went to grab her toys. She came back with her strap-on dildo and some lubricant and condoms. I was wearing my birthday suit. Just a six-foot-one, 250-pound, buck-naked Black man. Miss Keisha smiled when she saw me, and asked me what I wanted to do first. I grinned and knelt before her. First I sucked on her condom-covered shiny ebony strap-on dildo like my life depended on it. She grabbed the back of my head, making me gag on her dildo. I liked that she was a bit forceful, makes the whole thing a bit more real, you know?

Miss Keisha berated me nastily while I went down on her, just the way I liked it. After sucking her dildo, I sucked on her toes while she pinched my nipples. They’re kind of sensitive even though I’m a guy so I asked her to be gentle. She promised to be gentle, with a sadistic gleam in her dark brown eyes. Later, she tied me up on the bed, raised my legs in the air as I lay on my back and slid her strap-on dildo into my well-lubricated asshole. While fucking me in the ass with her dildo, Miss Keisha pinched my nipples. Ah, man. I thought I told her not to do that? Miss Keisha laughed and twisted my nipples while pounding my ass with her dildo. She fucked me real good in that position, then removed my bindings. Oh, have no fear. She wasn’t done with me yet.

Miss Keisha put me on all fours, face down and ass up, then she took me like this. She spanked my ass real good, tugging at my butt hairs and squeezing my cock and balls as she prepared me take an even bigger dildo up my ass. This time, she fucked me with a big strap-on dildo which she claimed was modeled after the sexual endowments of African-American porn star Lexington Steele. Man, she almost killed me with that thing. Miss Keisha kaçak bahis applied enough lubricant to my ass to lubricate a truck, then she pushed the dildo into my ass. She thrust the dildo deep into me after initially promising me she’d be gentle. She lied! Gripping my hips tightly, she began fucking me with deep, powerful strokes. I screamed, I howled, and I begged for mercy. I enjoyed everything she did to me, and then some. In the end, I had tears in my eyes. It was THAT good!

I walked out of the room feeling really good. Miss Keisha offered me a towel and asked me if I wanted to take a shower. I nodded, and thanked her for a wonderful time. I showered for ten minutes, then dried myself, got dressed and left. Before I left, I gave Miss Keisha a hug which she returned with a grin. I told her to save my number because she was so damn good I wanted a repeat performance. She smiled and told me everything was cool, and she looked forward to seeing me again. I walked out of the house feeling like a million bucks. I winked at two Arab guys who were going to the house, doubtless to use the services of other ladies of the evening like Miss Keisha. They smiled at me and went their way. I felt great, until I realized that I left my Scotia Bank card somewhere. It wasn’t in my wallet. I realized that when I went to the gas station across the street to buy some candy. Oh, shit!

What was I going to do? I called Miss Keisha and her cell went straight to voice mail. I texted her, asking if she had seen my card. She told me that she would look, and I waited. Nada. She couldn’t find it. She texted me again, asking me to retrace my steps. I thought about it. Where had I gone? I walked from my apartment in the east end of Ottawa to the French Avenue where Miss Keisha’s house of delights was located. I stopped at the Scotia Bank ATM to get some money to pay for her services. Oh, shit. I must have forgotten it inside the ATM! Too bad I realized that when I was halfway home, and AFTER I had called the Bank of Nova Scotia to report my card lost and cancel it.

My phone was ringing. It was Miss Keisha but I didn’t feel like picking up. I felt a bit down after losing my card. I had plans to meet my buddies Sam and James at a pub downtown. I walked back to the ATM, and guess who I found there? None other than the lovely Miss Keisha. She smiled at me and handed me my card, saying that she thought I might have left it there when she came down during a smoke break. She was the one who just called me, to let me know she found my card. Wow! I looked at this young Black woman, my heart filled with mixed emotions. I took the card from her and thanked her, and she smiled and hugged me. I promised to see her again, then went home. What a night! What a woman! I’m definitely going to see Miss Keisha again. I can’t believe how awesome this chick was. I wished her goodnight via text and she wished me well, then clicked off. I was smiling from ear to ear. My Scotia Bank debit card was fucked up by my own fault, and I had to scrap my plans to drink with James and Sam downtown, but I felt good. After all the lies and dishonesty from my ex-girlfriend June, I was understandably jaded about womankind. I guess I finally ran into an honest woman, Miss Keisha, in the last place I’d expect. Wow. Guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover. I’m looking forward to my final year at Carleton University, ladies and gentlemen. It’s going to be the best one yet!

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