Feminist Sisters Want The D

I am a woman and a Feminist and what I do with my body is my choice. That's what the main message of Feminism is all about. Women aren't inferior to men. We are just as good. And we've changed laws and created social movements across the globe to enforce gender equality. We've accomplished a lot but still have a way to go. I believe that women the world over must continue to fight for their rights and demand gender equality. From Saudi Arabia to Germany, from Haiti to New Zealand, from Brazil to France, from South Africa to Italy, from Nigeria to Finland, all women must unite against sexism.

My name is Marjorie Thaddeus and I am a Feminist leader and a student of French Canadian descent at the University of Ottawa. I study Criminal Justice, with a minor in women's and gender issues. One day I want to become a lawyer, and fight for women's rights in the legal system of Canada. We're a progressive country but we've definitely got a way to go. In recent years, the University of Ottawa has been plagued with sex scandals. Women's issues activists and student leaders have been harassed for denouncing certain sexist campus traditions, and members of the Men's Hockey Club got accused of sexual assault, tarnishing our school's image forever.

A lot of people on campus are blaming Feminism for the ills that have befallen our campus. These people are completely wrong. Advocating for women's rights does not in any way mean that you are against men. I am not a man-hater. I am a proud Feminist because I believe in women's rights and gender equality. I have nothing against the male of the species. The stereotype of the man-hating, typically die-hard lesbian type of Feminist is just that, a stereotype. I want to bring change to the Feminist movement. I want to change the stereotypes about this great movement. That's something that I am really passionate about.

I convened a meeting with Jefferson Manheim, President Emeritus of the YMSA or Young Men Scholars Association of the University of Ottawa. I wanted to speak to the most respected male leader on campus to see if we get our respective sides to back off. Campus doesn't have to be a minefield full of gender-based hatred, angry rhetoric and political correctness gone amok. College and university should be a fun, safe and exciting time in the lives of all young men and women attending institutions of higher education across the vastness of Canada and beyond. People shouldn't feel afraid to speak boldly on campus about any topic because of gender wars. Free speech should be a guaranteed right for all individuals regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation at university. I sincerely believe that.

I must admit that when I first met Jefferson Manheim, he was not what I expected. I expected a pimply-faced frat dude, and was surprised to meet instead a tall, dark and handsome gentleman in a stylish business suit. Emphasis on the dark and handsome part. With his lime-green eyes, curly black hair and golden brown skin, Jefferson Manheim was masculine beauty with an exotic edge personified. I would later learn that he was an international student at the University of Ottawa, having transferred there from Boston University. Yeah, Jefferson Manheim was an American. How about that?

We met at a little bistro near campus, and exchanged ideas over coffee and bagels. Jefferson lamented the fate of the school's hockey club but admitted that male perpetrators of sexual assault should be punished. As a Feminist, I found it refreshing to hear that from such a distinguished and intelligent young man. During our meeting, I was pleasantly surprised by Jefferson Manheim's articulation and commented on it. For a long moment, Jefferson fell silent. I asked him what was wrong. Jefferson sighed and told me that people, especially in Ottawa, called him articulate because he was a well-spoken black man. Something he found seriously offensive.

Upon realizing that I had inadvertently offended Jefferson Manheim, I apologized profusely. Jefferson nodded, smiled and told me I was forgiven. I smiled at him, and noticed how handsome he was. I wondered if he might be mulatto, and asked him about it. Jefferson shook his head, and told me that his father, Roger Manheim, was African-American, while his mother, Rachel O'Hara, was Irish. Oh, and he was offended by the term mulatto, which he considered outdated. Jefferson looked me in the eye and told me that he preferred to be called biracial, a more culturally accepted term in modern times.

Wow, open mouth and insert foot, eh? Twice in a few minutes I'd offended Jefferson Manheim without meaning to. Cordially Jefferson accepted my apology, then told me that quite often, men offend women purely by mistake, without any malice involved, much as I'd offended him twice during our conversation. I had never thought of that. This really puts things into perspective. I thanked Jefferson for this, and he smiled and nodded gracefully. After this first meeting, Jefferson wished me a good day, and right before he left, I gave him my card. Just in case he wanted to discuss anything, I was quick to point out. Jefferson nodded, and pocketed the card. Like the gentleman he was, Jefferson Manheim walked me to my car, and then walked away.

I sat at the wheel, pensive. As a Feminist, I found it sexist that Jefferson felt the need to walk me to my car. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself. As a woman, I felt thrilled by his sheer masculine presence. Did I mention the brother had a seriously sexy ass? He looked real good in a suit. My lusty thoughts surprised me. Here I was, checking Jefferson out like a piece of meat, exactly the sort of thing my Feminist sisters and I often accused men of doing. Can I be a woman and sexist? Apparently so.

I went home that night, and as I lay on my bed after doing homework, I thought of Jefferson Manheim. I seriously wanted to know more about him. So I crept him on Facebook. The gorgeous African-American stud once played rugby for Boston University. Interesting. His Facebook profile was fairly simple, just pictures of him with friends and family. No pictures of him with girls. Intriguing, but good to know, I thought to myself.

I checked out pictures of Jefferson Manheim shirtless, and felt a heat begin between my legs. Hey, I'm a Feminist but I'm not dead, alright? Besides, nothing wrong with some harmless fantasizing. At least that's what I told myself while fingering my cunt, thinking naughty thoughts of Jefferson all the while. No way a sexy guy like Jefferson Manheim would ever be interested in me. He's tall, muscular and gorgeous, and he must have a ton of girls after him. I'm five-foot-three, plump, red-haired and pimple-faced. The last time I went on a date, Michael Ignatieff was still the Leader of the Liberal Party. Yeah, it's been a while.

I masturbated to a guilty pleasure as I thought of the hunky Jefferson Manheim. I closed myself and visualized his hot, sexy body on top of mine. As I substituted my fingers for my dildo and thrust said dildo into my pussy, I envisioned Jefferson slamming his long and thick black ( or mixed ) dick into my cunt, pounding away at me. I pictured him taking me roughly, putting me on all fours, spanking my fat white ass, pulling my hair and slamming his dick into me while calling me every name in the book. I heard myself say nasty things as Jefferson pounded away at me. Terms that, if I heard any male student use them on campus, I'd report him to the political correctness cabal and get him into trouble. Yet I envisioned Jefferson using those same terms with me. Fucking me roughly while calling me a cunt, a slut, a bitch and a whore. Spanking my ass and pulling my hair while ramming me with his awesome mixed dick.

Ramming the dildo as far up my cunt as it would go, I inserted two fingers into my asshole. That hit the spot, and moments later I squealed happily as I came. As I lay there, panting while smiling guiltily, I felt the awesome relief I experienced after a good cum. Tomorrow, I'm definitely going to find Jefferson Manheim. I don't care if, as President of a male-centered student club he's the polar opposite of Super Feminist Me, this man is going to be mine because I've just got to have him. I want to put my hands all over that sexy body of his.

Grabbing my iPhone, I texted Jefferson, under the pretext of thanking him for being such an enlightened student leader, and suggesting we meet again the next day. For, ahem, another gender relations discussion. It was close to midnight when I sent the text. Imagine my surprise when Jefferson Manheim replied almost right away. Yes, he's definitely okay with meeting me tomorrow. I smiled contentedly and wished him a goodnight. Game, set and match, Monsieur Manheim. Tomorrow, I'm dressing my sexiest and laying the charm to get this stud eating out of my hand.

Alright, let's be honest here. I definitely want to get some D from the African-American stud muffin. As a French Canadian woman, Jefferson Manheim is something I've never tasted. Half black, half white and all-American! And if I play my cards right, the Boston lad won't know what hit him. What? Does my plan shock you? It shouldn't. Yes, I am a Feminist but I am also a woman and we got our needs. If I want to slut it up on campus, and throw this chunky white pussy of mine at a certain Black American gentleman it's my choice. Don't you dare judge me. Peace.