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Why Black Men Crave Black Women free porn video
I love big Black women. I’ve been addicted to big beautiful Black ladies ever since I could remember. I’ve been collecting videos and magazines specifically geared to my unique interest for ages. My name is Jackson LeBrun. I’m twenty seven years old and I’m a Canadian man of Haitian descent who’s strongly attracted to Black women. I’m addicted to the Black ladies and I don’t want to be cured. I love what my fascination makes me. A Black female worshiper. A six-foot-three, lean and muscular Black man born and raised in the Northern Territories in Canada. I grew up around scores of white folks, and the only Black people I knew were my immediate family. Life was okay, I guess. My father, Ed LeBrun is a Lieutenant Colonel with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. My mother Elisabeth Johnson LeBrun is a Professor of African Literature at the University of Ottawa, my alma mater.
There are about a million Black people in the Republic of Canada, but most of them live in the big cities. Big urban centers like the cities of Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec. The Great White North of Canada doesn’t appeal to most of them. Too cold, I guess. That’s why I lived isolated from my own race most of my life. Until I moved to the United States of America, and experienced a cultural and personal renaissance. I discovered a lot about myself and about my race within months of moving to America. I love my fellow Black men. The feeling of brotherhood I feel with them is deep. I also have an abiding love for the Black women of the world. I love them. I need them. I crave them. I love their sense of style, their strength, their beauty, their wit and their booties. Especially their booties.
I’m now a member of the Canadian Consulate in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. Deep within the United States of America. Essentially, I’m a diplomat. When I’m not serving my country to the best of my abilities, I’m hunting booties. There are so many Black women in Boston. I don’t know why so many Black guys in the big city date white women. I much prefer the Black women I see strolling down the street. Especially the thick Black chicks with big tits, wide hips and big butts. Man, I can’t get enough of them. I need to get the taste of white pussy out of my mouth and out of my mind. I’m a newfound appreciator of Black pussy. Now, I slept with a few white chicks in the Northern Territories but only because there were no Black women around. At all. There are more Black people in Europe than there are in the Northern Territories, percentage-wise. Trust me. That’s why I love Boston so much. In a city teeming with beautiful Black women, I intend to dedicate myself to chasing Black females exclusively.
I met this lovely young woman named Samantha Vaudeville while visiting a friend on Commonwealth Avenue along Boston’s Back Bay. Samantha was a six-foot-tall, dark-skinned and big-bottomed, delightfully voluptuous and absolutely lovely young Black woman who attended a local school, Emerson College. This chick was hot as hell. She had it all. Cute face. Nice body. Big booty. Three out of three isn’t bad, folks. When I saw her, I just had to go over and introduce myself. This twenty-two-year-old sexy mama was easy on the eyes, and had a thing for older men. Especially the good-looking ones with money. And it so happens that I’m older than her, and I have money. We were made for each other.
I took the time to get to know the lovely Samantha Vaudeville. This native of Dominica was new to the city of Boston, a city she moved to specifically for higher education purposes. She was a bit lonely. Suffering from the eternal dilemma of being a stranger in a strange land. She didn’t find the fast-paced city life to her liking. Not at all. Rather, she longed for the peace and tranquility she knew in rural Dominica. In a way, I found her easy to relate to. I don’t much care for big city life. Too many cars. Too many people. Too much noise. I prefer the peace and tranquility of the Great White North of Canada, where I grew up.
I learned quite a bit about Samantha Vaudeville. In a way, she was a lot like me. An oddball in the city. Samantha spoke several languages, among them French, Portuguese, Spanish and German. Her mother, the famous author Astrid Vaudeville was an expatriate of the Republic of South Africa who traveled all over the European Union and the Americas before settling in the island nation of Dominica. Samantha told me how she found herself a weirdo among the city of Boston’s fast-growing Black collegiate population. They found her accent peculiar, along with her interests. I could totally relate. My Black friends from all over Boston found me weird because I used to play men’s varsity ice hockey at the college level back home and I love golf, bowling and tennis. I liked classical music, and hardcore rock and punk music. Yes, they thought I was weird too.
Samantha and I were judged harshly by our peers in the Black community of Boston because we didn’t conform to their idea of what a Black person should be. A lot of Black female Americans I’ve met don’t respect a Black man unless he acts like a roughneck, uses coarse language and carries himself with the swagger of a mob hitman. And scores of young Black American men are eager to conform to that idea to please the young Black women they’re so desperate to impress. Both Samantha and I were proud of our Blackness. We simply refused to conform to what both Black America and White America thought a Black person should be.
Personally, I studied Black history and got in touch with my people and my culture early in my life. I think because I grew up so far away from large numbers of Black people, I never took myself, my family or my cultural heritage for granted. I learned about Hannibal Barca, the African General who led the Carthaginian Army across the Alps to battle the Roman Empire on their own turf. I know of the exploits of Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Toussaint Louverture and Alexandre Petion, the Haitian heroes who led scores of Black men and Black women in tearing down the French colonial powers who backed the institution of slavery in Haiti and establishing the first independent Black Republic in the New World. Everyone and their mama knows about civil rights activists Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Not everyone knows about Black warriors like General Hannibal Barca or Jean-Jacques Dessalines. They were amazingly strong Black men.
To my amazement, Samantha Vaudeville knew about Black heroes like General Hannibal Barca of Carthage and Haiti’s very own Alexandre Petion. She knew her Black history well. This young woman fascinated me. She was so different from most of the women I had met since moving to America. There seems to be an undeclared war between men and women in America. A war of the sexes played out in television shows, movies, commercials and books. A vicious conflict taking place in the bedroom and the courtroom. Hatred for men seems to be a big part of female life in America. And there are many institutions dedicated to promoting that. From the higher education system which warps young women’s minds against men to the advertising industry, dedicated to uplifting the female customer by vilifying ordinary men. America is a place where even strong men struggle.
While I found myself drawn to the fascinating Black women I met in Boston, I was no fool looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I knew plenty of Black women who boasted of the number of Black men whose lives they destroyed. Hatred for the Black male runs deep in America. White law enforcement officers in America hate Black males, but Black females seem to hate Black men even more. Amazing. Even though a Black man is President of the United States of America, and the states of Massachusetts and New York have Black Governors, hatred of Black males runs deep in White America. Hell, it runs deep in Black America too. And scores of Black women seem allied with the racist system to tear down Black men. Fascinating stuff. Is it written in the stars that Black
men and Black women in America can’t get along? Apparently so.
What’s a brother to do? As a Black man, I think of the Black woman as my mate, my lover, my helper and my partner. I don’t want any other women. Even when I lived in the Great White North, where there were absolutely no Black people, I longed for Black women. I thought about Black women with thick bodies, pretty faces and big booties when I masturbated. I didn’t think of white women. Now, as a young Black man living in a milieu where the population was close to one hundred percent white, I did what I had to do when my sexual needs had to be met. Necessity and all that. I was very careful as to whom I dealt with. I read horror stories about young Black men who got falsely accused of sexual misconduct by white women. Dating white women was dangerous, and not something I wanted to do. I did it because I had to. Had there been Black women around, I would never have looked at women of any other race. Still, I’m a guy with a guy’s basic needs. One needs alternatives otherwise there’s no point in choosing. That’s the main difference between me and the Black males of America. I had no choice. They do.
Upon coming to America, I realized America’s Black men and Black women didn’t respect or appreciate each other for the most part. And the media was eager to exploit that, often portraying Black couples as eternally angry and bickering, never happy. I’ve lived around white people my whole life and white couples are often far more dysfunctional than they let on. Let no one tell you otherwise. I know plenty of white couples where the man and the woman hate each other with a passion. They’re just better at putting on a false image of happiness than Black couples. Black couples are too real to pretend to be happy with one another when deep down they’re not feeling each other anymore. Can Black male and Black female relationships be saved? Lord, I hope so.
When I look at Samantha Vaudeville, I know the answer to that question. She’s in her final year in Emerson College’s business program. Soon she will graduate, then head to Suffolk University for her MBA. She intends to take on the treacherous world of corporate America as a strong-willed, battle-ready and educated Black woman. From what I know of corporate America, it’s a world where racism and sexism are more common than specks of dust in the desert. White males rule that roost, and the white females are their supremely ambitious seconds-in-command. The white male sits on his throne and the white female stands on her pedestal. Admired and revered by all. Ensconced in the trappings of power. And both hope that’s how it will always be.
Neither of them want to see non-Caucasians advance to positions of power in their alabaster clubhouse. White females want to replace white males as the power holders and shot callers, but they aren’t fond of minority women, or men of other races. The sisterhood thing that feminists boast about doesn’t always reach across color lines. These corporate ladies and gentlemen are something else. They don’t like Asians, but the supremely gifted men and women of China and Japan are making quite a dent in the corporate world and are becoming a force to be reckoned with. Blacks and Hispanics in corporate America have made great strides, but the Powers That Be continue to get in their way. They know they can’t stop them, but they’re delaying their ascent to the top.
Even as Blacks, Hispanics and Asians combine to finally outnumber white people in America, racism persists in the halls of power. White men and white women have reigned as near demigods among humankind for centuries. They don’t want to see their rule come to an end. Interestingly, there is increasing xenophobia in Europe, particularly Great Britain, even as Europeans experience the biggest population decline among all groups of humans. Oh, and while this is happening, scores of Africans, Asians and Middle-Easterners are moving to Europe. In the Americas, Europe and Australia, Europeans numbers are dropping. They’re simply not making more of themselves. Many of them claim it’s because of their Christian values or because they fear overpopulation. Bullshit. No human population voluntarily quells the flows of its numbers. Nature must be working against them somehow. By contrast, across the globe, Africans and Asians numbers are soaring. The peoples of Africa, India and China are booming in numbers as the Europeans decline in number on no fewer than three continents. Why is that? I don’t know. It’s worth looking into. But I’m no scientist.
Enough about the politics of race in this world. My Samantha and I are dating seriously now. I am quite smitten with her. She’s got everything I ever wanted in a woman. First and foremost, she’s Black. After an eternity in the Great White North, I’m thankful to have found a Black woman to love me. She’s also smart, sexy, has a great personality and a fantastic body. Don’t even get me started on her fantastic behind. Her booty is big, round and plump. Just the way I like them. And she’s thick in all the right places. What can I say, folks? I love my woman. She’s very passionate, and does all kinds of wonderfully kinky things to keep the passion alive in our relationship. Her ambition is boundless. She wants to become CEO of a Fortune 500 company someday. Isn’t she cool? All that intelligence, beauty, ambition and sex appeal. And she is all mine. I’m really lucky.
When I’m done serving the Republic of Canada in my position as diplomat, I intend to ask Samantha to return to Canada with me and become my bride. The future mother of my offspring. I have no doubt that we will both do well there. She’ll take on corporate Canada and I will continue to rise in the world of politics. Canada is becoming a very diverse place these days, and Africans, Middle-Easterners, Asians and Hispanics are creating their own enclaves in that previously all-white environment. And they are good at it too.
There is a town called Preston in Ontario, Canada. It’s located near the major city of Cambridge. Scores of Black people from Africa, the Caribbean and other places have made it their own. Thousands of them live there, and they represent sixty nine percent of the population. And here’s the kicker. Preston is a city that has the potential to become for Black Canadians what towns like Atlanta, Harlem and Detroit, are to Black Americans. A mecca for the heart and soul of those respective nations. An oasis in the desert. A shelter in the storm. Black Canadians have made great strides since those wicked days in the 1960s when the Canadian government forced scores of Black families out of Afric-ville to build a road in the place they once called home. We cannot let such state-sanctioned racial discrimination rear its ugly head again. Now don’t get me wrong. Canada has made great strides. The Governor-General of Canada is a Black woman appointed by the Queen of England herself. Racism will never die, but Black people worldwide will fight it until the end. That’s what we do. Samantha and I will make the city of Preston our new home. The building blocks to the empire our sons and daughters will one day rule.
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