I am a tall, slender black man with dark brown eyes and a mahogany complexion. I possess an average physical attractiveness and have had what I would surmise to be the usual sexual encounters. By that I mean I have had those only slightly enjoyable sexual moments that most everyone has experienced. But that has never been what I desired.
Love and sex have never gone hand in hand for me. I have fallen in love before. And always with black women who were powerful and extremely voracious sexual beings. The problem has always been that I've always possessed a sexual expectation of more from the women than they could provide. Fact is, I have always chosen women who were exactly as I am and who possessed the same desires as I do. The women I chose were alphas mentally, physically, and socially. But sexually, they were submissives who craved men who would dominate and use them for whatever sexual pleasures they desired. They chose me because they observed the alpha male vision I present to the world and they expected it would extend to the bedroom. They were disappointed to find that, like them, I am sexually submissive and have a need to be dominated by my partners. Needless to say, the relationships didn't work out.
I don't mean to sound racist, because I'm not. The man I called my father was white, and much of what I am intellectually is because of him. But, sexually, I tend to gravitate to black women. That doesn't mean I don't find women of other races to be extremely attractive, it just means that what I envision of myself in a sexual relationship involves black women. I say this, even though I'm bisexual. What I want is a specific type of woman. I want that feminine beauty who can control me with a pout or a smile. I want her to be sexually adventurous, even to the point of being sluttish. And I want her feel comfortable enough within herself to be as freakishly perverse with me as she desires. I want a woman who is not afraid to succumb to the most obscene aspects of her sexual identity and revel in the pleasures attained through release of that part of herself.
I was in love with a girl like that once. She was a beautiful, light butter complexioned virgin with a small, waifish frame and a gorgeous face framed by mousy brown waves that fell to the small of her back. She looked a lot like the porn star Heather Hunter and was preparing to become a fashion model when I moved to California for a while. Of course, because of the distance, we broke up. Three years later I returned home and ran into her mother. Her mother had always liked me and both of our families had thought we would end up together. She invited me to dinner at her house, saying my ex-girlfriend would be there and she was sure she would like to see me. When she mentioned her daughter a surge of emotion ran through me and I knew that, despite our separation, I still possessed feelings for the girl. When I arrived at the woman's house and saw her daughter, I was shocked. The virgin girl I left behind was obviously not a virgin anymore as she was showing as approximately six months pregnant. But it wasn't that she was pregnant that shocked me. What I found to be surprising was the effect the sight of her had on me.
Most men would have been hurt and angry to find that the girl they loved had been fucking another man. When I saw that the girl I loved was pregnant, I felt hurt and angry too. However, there was something more to my feelings. It was because of the pain and anger I felt at the sight of her, and the knowledge that she was carrying another man's child, that I knew without a doubt that I loved her. I also discovered something else about myself that I would never have known otherwise (and I believe her mother knew - which was why she invited me to visit). I found out that, seeing her pregnant and thinking of another man fucking her turned me on. At that moment, more than any time before, I wanted her. And I let her know that. But she turned me down. She couldn't believe that I could love her enough to accept what had happened and wouldn't take it out on the child. That didn't stop us from enjoying several sexual moments. She became quite sexually promiscuous, giving birth to five children by different men, and when I was told of her exploits all I could think of was that we could have both had what we wanted if she would have trusted her heart enough to give us a chance.
This story is a fantasy of how I wish that part of my life had gone.
Sitting across from Anisa (not her real name), I stared at her, enraptured by her beauty. My eyes flowed over the entirety of her flawless form, from the top of her head to the crimson painted tips of her toenails, sending a burning rush of sensation coursing through my heart.
She was perfect. With a buttery golden skin tone like a smoothness of fair flesh barely kissed by the warmth of the sun, long, flowing dark brown hair that fell down her back until the very tips of its strands brushed lightly at the top of her buttocks, almond shaped eyes that were even darker than her hair, and a gleaming golden moistness of the most soft and kissable lips, I did not doubt that she would be a great model. But her face was not the only asset she possessed that would assist her in a modeling career. Though standing only 5'4" tall, she displayed the type of figure many models dreamed of. She had a slender frame with slight curves, like the elegance of a champagne flute. The full, firm, roundness f her breasts stood up proudly on her chest, tapering down to a small waist, trim hips, the slight mouthwatering curvature of her cute little ass, and long, slim, sculpted legs that descended down, down, down, to her pretty little feet. If not for her pregnancy her belly would have been flat, almost concave. But her obviously pregnant state didn't detract from her beauty. And like every other time I saw her, I was awestruck.
Anisa saw me staring. Usually, when she caught me eyeing her like a little boy crushing on his first girl, she would smile and tease me about it. But this time she didn't smile or tease. This time she sat and calmly caressed one hand across her protruding abdomen as she gazed back at me.
"Marcos (not my real name), what are you doing here?" She asked softly.
"What do you mean?" I responded.
"You know what I mean. You keep coming here, sitting with me, and you're staring at me with eyes that are both worshipful and hungry. You're treating me as if I was your girl," she said. "I want to know why?"
"You already know the answer to that question. Everybody in this house, your mother, your brothers, your sisters, and you all know the answer to that question. What? Do you want me to state what you already know?" I said seriously. "Okay then. I'm here because I still love you. I'm treating you as if you're my girl because you are my girl. You will always be my girl."
I move to where she is. Taking her soft hand in mine, I gaze into her eyes.
"How do you think I should treat you? When we were together before, didn't I always treat you like a queen? Why would I treat you any differently now?"
Anisa drew her hand from mine, but her gaze did not waver.
"I figured that, with me being pregnant by another man, you wouldn't want to be here. You say that I'm your girl and ask if you've always treated me like a queen, but, no, you haven't always treated me like either your girl or a queen. And aside from the last month, for the past three years you haven't wanted to have anything to do with me," she stated. "You left me here and went to California just to get away from me. So when I ask what you are doing here now, I think I'm entitled to an answer."
Shocked and saddened by her statement that I had left her and travelled to California to get away from her, I momentarily lowered my eyes. Then I raised them to hers again.
"That's not true. I just went to California on a lark. It was only meant to be a momentary adventure. I didn't go because I was trying to get away from you."
Then her eyes narrowed and I could see anger flare within them.
"But you left me behind. You went and you left me here. And during the three years you were gone you didn't call not one time. So even if you didn't go to get away from me, it's obvious that you were happy to be away from me." Anisa's voice was harsh with anger.
I sat back and took a deep breath that I released in a sigh.
