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“Reginald, if you don’t have a thousand dollars for me by the end of this week, I’m evicting you, and I swear that I’m tossing your belongings outside,” said my landlord, Mr. Jacobs, and I looked at the smug, bespectacled little old white dude, and flashed him a grin a shark would recognize. Must have had the desired effect for Mr. Jacobs flinched, and I allowed myself a smile of satisfaction.
Dude is the worst landlord ever, the heating in this super old Vanier building is horrible, but he’s a definite stickler for the rules when it comes to the rent. I work forty-hours a week as a security guard and make only eleven bucks per hour. I’m paying for school by myself, no OSAP. I wish I could make Mr. Jacobs understand, but the dude is quite simply heartless. Honestly, I wanted to punch his lights out but I don’t need the dreaded Ottawa police after my ass, so I kept my cool.
“If I can get you most of that sum, will you stay off my back?” I said point-blank, looking into Mr. Jacobs beady little eyes, and the old dude shrugged, and then walked out of the apartment. Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Great, between my tuition problems, my rent issues, and the fact that I have no life, I feel like my existence has become pure hell in recent times. Whoopee for me.
My name is Reginald Stephen Pierrot, and I’m a young biracial man living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I’m in my fifth year at Carleton University, trying to get that bachelor’s degree in Commerce. I was born in the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, to a Haitian immigrant father, Jefferson Pierrot, and Marguerite Fir, an Aboriginal mother from the Eskasoni First Nations people. Six-foot-one, broad-shouldered and athletically built, with light brown skin, long black hair and slightly angular brown eyes, that’s me. A rare combination of Caribbean and Aboriginal.
If you know anything about the environs of Halifax, Nova Scotia, then you’d know that it’s the Mississippi of Canada. A place where white folks are casually racist in their interactions with blacks and aboriginals, the biggest minority groups in the region. As a mixed dude, I caught the hate from both sides. I grew up getting teased about my skin color by both whites and Aboriginals, and I think that’s why I have a somewhat misanthropic view of the universe. People suck. My folks love Nova Scotia for some reason but I don’t.
As soon as I finished high school, I headed to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, a place I visited once during my paternal uncle Walsh’s wedding to a local lady. I remember walking through the Saint Laurent Mall with my parents, and marveled at seeing so many Africans, Arabs, Chinese people and others. I swear, the minorities outnumbered the white people at that mall. I loved it, and swore to myself that I’d return to this place someday. Years later, here I am, living in Vanier, a ten-minute walk from the Saint Laurent Mall, and it’s not such a wonderful life.
“Babe, what are you going to do?” My girlfriend Stacey Corneille’s voice startled me out of my train of thoughts, and I looked at her. Standing five-foot-ten, with dark brown skin, long black hair and almond-shaped golden brown eyes, Stacey is a vision of beauty. Born in the City of Toronto, Ontario, to a Haitian immigrant mother and a French Canadian father, this biracial beauty took my breath away the first time I laid eyes on her while walking through the campus library. I approached her, and amazingly, this lovely gal with the doe eyes turned out to be a nice person. We totally clicked, and have been together ever since.
“I’ll find a way, Stacey,” I said, and I gently pulled her into my arms, and inhaled her scent. Stacey smelled of soap, and light feminine perfume, and I held her close. Stacey looked into my eyes, and silently waited. My bravado melted away, and I finally fessed up. After doing groceries and paying the hydro bill so electricity don’t get cut, I only had one hundred and seventeen dollars left in my CIBC Bank account. A far cry from the thousand dollars I owed the landlord in rent. Rent is five hundred bucks a month in this hellhole, plus utilities. Welcome to my life.
“Reggie, I know you don’t like it on the Quebec side but you’ve got to admit, rent in Ottawa is outrageous and this place sucks,” Stacey said, and she looked at the apartment, then at me. I looked at her and nodded, not knowing what to say to her. Talk about a rude awakening, eh? The damn landlord showed tuzla escort up at my door, unannounced, and he was none too pleasant. Last night was so much better compared to today, let me tell you.
“I hear you babe,” I said to Stacey, and I smiled, remembering how truly epic last night was. Dammit, I’m really lucky to have a woman like her in my life. Last night, Stacey and I went to this chic little Haitian restaurant called Creole Sensations on Montreal Road, and then came home and did the bump and grind, with a twist. Stacey isn’t just tall, cute and smart. Nope, my lady love is delightfully kinky and I absolutely love her for it.
“Mofo, before I let you fuck me, you’ve got to eat this ass,” Stacey said as she got on all fours and pulled down her boxer shorts. That’s right, my girlfriend loves boxer shorts and doesn’t bother with panties most of the time. Stacey is a total tomboy who plays on the women’s varsity rugby team for Saint Paul University. Me? I missed the sports gene. I can play the trombone, though. Anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah, Stacey’s magnificent ass was staring at me and I felt my dick harden in my pants.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, laughing, as I caressed Stacey’s ass, and then kissed it. Stacey grinned, and I spread her big ass cheeks, inhaled her scent, and then got busy. I am an ass man, ladies and gentlemen. I love everything about the black female posterior. Stacey here has one of the best. I wormed my tongue into her butt hole and then began fingering her cunt while licking her asshole. Stacey giggled and pressed her ass against my face, and I sucked on her asshole, loving the way it smelled and tasted.
“Go for it, my dude, work that tongue in there,” Stacey murmured, and I nodded, then a bright idea clicked into my mind. I lay on the bed, and asked Stacey to sit on my face. Grinning, my lady did just that, sitting comfortably on my face like a queen on her throne. Man, if there’s anything I love more than eating ass, it’s having a big-booty gal rest her ass on my face. As Stacey rode my face, I ate her booty like it’s groceries. Yeah, I’m freaky like that.
“Hmm, that was fun, now come ride a brother,” I said, and Stacey grinned and straddled me. I looked up at her, a vision of exquisite feminine beauty. Her brown eyes bore into mine, and wordlessly, an understanding passed between us. I gently caressed Stacey’s breasts, and then caressed her derriere as I felt her thighs grip me. My dick hardened, and Stacey clearly felt it, for she winked at me.
“Oh, patience, my dear,” Stacey said, laughing, as she gripped my dick with both hands and stroked it. I held my breath as Stacey pumped her hands up and down on my dick, and then, resting on her haunches, brought her lovely face oh-so close to my manhood. Stacey licked the head of my eight-inch, uncircumcised dick, and I held my breath as she took it into her mouth, and began sucking on it.
While sucking my dick, Stacey slid a finger up my ass. I totally did not mind at all since I’m freaky like that, and I’m not like those insecure brothers who seem to think that letting their girlfriend finger them makes them gay. I’m all about pleasure and self-exploration, and doing so with a beautiful and very willing young woman, well, what could be more right than that?
“I think I’m ready for something bigger,” I whispered to Stacey, who winked at me. Without stopping her suction of my Johnson, Stacey reached for her purse, and fumbled around for a moment before finding it. My eyes widened when I saw what she was holding onto. A shiny pink dildo. Damn, so that’s what ladies carry around in their untouchable purses. Good to know.
“Oh, you’re going to love this one,” Stacey paused to say, and then she flicked her tongue on my dick head, and I swear I almost came right then and there. Grinning, she reached for a nearby bottle of Aloe cream, which I use on my super ashy hands in the morning, and used it to lubricate my ass. I grimaced as the cold lotion was applied on my tiny hole by Stacey’s eager hands. My girlfriend grinned wickedly, and I knew I was in for some sweet hell.
“Just go easy on me,” I said, and Stacey laughed and nodded, then hastily promised me she’d be gentle, and I didn’t believe her for one second. Stacey pressed the dildo against my asshole, and then with a gentle push, worked it into me. I gasped at the intrusion. Now, Stacey has fingered and even tuzla rus escort licked my ass in the past, but this was the first time I let her use a dildo on my ass. Stacey often asked in the past but I always said no. Truth be told, I was curious, but also nervous.
“Stop faking the funk, Reggie, I know you watch strap-on videos online, you know you want this shit,” Stacey said, laughing, as she all but plunged the dildo into my asshole. I smiled sheepishly, and Stacey continued fucking me. Alright, I’ll fess up. There’s a reason why “Femdom” and “pegging” appear frequently on every search engine on my laptop. Yeah, I’m freaky like that. Don’t judge me please.
“Alright, you got me,” I said, and Stacey grinned and this time she jammed the dildo so far up my ass that it got on in the sweet spot. I shuddered violently, and my legs went rigid, my dick stiffened, and I knew that I was about to cum. I shouted a warning and Stacey grabbed my dick and stroked it with one hand while using the other to stimulate my prostate with the dildo. That’s when a massive orgasm hit me, and I cried out as I came louder than ever before. Damn it, I shot cum all over the place. It was glorious. I mouthed my thanks to Stacey, who winked at me.
“You’re welcome,” Stacey said to me, grinning, and she kissed me, and then pulled the dildo out of my ass. I smiled at her and held her in my arms. A beautiful and kinky woman who’s mine and mine alone. Yup, I am a lucky guy, if only in the romance department. Stacey and I continued with our fun well into the night, and we fucked and sucked the night away. I swear, it was one of the best nights of our lives. Too bad we got a rude awakening in the morning, thanks to my uncouth landlord Mr. Jacobs.
“Got an idea about how to get out of this mess,” I said to Stacey, who looked at me, and sighed. Alright, so I’m always cooking up schemes. This time, though, I was really onto something. I took a shower, then put on some business casual clothes. Clad in a gray silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland shoes, I went to the nearby Western Union Money Mart store. I brought my Nova Scotia driver’s licence, and a hydro bill with my name and address on it, along with three of my most recent paystubs from the security company I work for.
I entered the store, and lined up behind the other poor schmucks on the premises. One African lady was sending money to her son in Ghana. A middle-aged white dude with liquor breath came to reload his Titanium Visa Card. Me? I wanted a payday loan and brought all the necessary documents. The lady behind the glass door, a plump, raven-haired white chick, looked me up and down.
“Good morning, I’m Reggie, and I’m interested in a payday loan,” I said with a smile, trying to appear as friendly as possible. The young woman looked at me as she checked my IDs and various documents, including proof of address and proof of employment. I stopped by CIBC earlier to get a direct deposit form, which the store would require.
“Alright, your documents check out, I can offer you six hundred dollars and you’ll pay us back in two weeks,” the young woman said, and I nodded most eagerly. I walked out of there with six hundred dollars in cash, and then went to class. That night, I went to the same nondescript building near Tunney’s Pasture Station where I work as overnight security. Stacey went back to her place in Gatineau. While at work, I passed the time by playing games on Facebook on my iPhone, and watching porn. Mostly, though, I thought about my life.
I’ve been living at the apartment off of Donald Street in Vanier for like two years, and I’ve been a good tenant. Mr. Jacobs is a dick and I didn’t feel like giving him the money. Maybe Stacey’s right, rent in Ontario is too high so we might as well give Quebec a chance. Was I ready to live with Stacey 24/7? I’m not the most responsible man in the universe but I do love Stacey and consider myself lucky to have her in my life. Maybe it’s time for a change.
“Where did you get this money?” Stacey asked me, alarmed, the following night. We were sitting inside Soleil Des Iles, a Haitian restaurant located at the heart of Vanier. I smiled and looked at Stacey, marveling at her beauty, and touched by the concern I saw on her lovely face. Stacey is studying Ethics at Saint Paul University and wants to go to Law School someday. That’s why she’s so by the book. tuzla sarışın escort Me? I’m kind of a trickster and love to get my way by any means necessary. I just worry about getting caught.
“From the Western Union store,” I said as I held up the documents, and Stacey snatched them from me. Stacey looked at them with those laser-like eyes of hers, and then looked at me. I could tell that she didn’t like what I’d just done. I sighed, smiled and then kept calm. I patiently explained to her why I did what I did, and Stacey finally relented.
“Pay the landlord so you can have peace of mine,” Stacey said, and I smiled and nodded, even though I had no intention of giving Mr. Jacobs a dime. I did however intend to move in with Stacey, who was struggling to pay for a two-bedroom spot in Gatineau now that her roommate Kendra left for Montreal. Rent at Stacey’s place is four hundred a month per person, all included. Well, seems like kismet to me if you ask me.
“Stacey, I want to move in with you, and take our relationship to the next level,” I said gravely as I took her lovely hands in mine, and then brought them to my lips. Gently I kissed them, and Stacey smiled. We finished our meal of white rice and brown bean sauce with goat meat, and then, hand in hand, began the long walk back to my spot. That night, when I went into the building basement to do laundry, I ran into Mr. Jacobs, who informed me that he’d be heading to Toronto for a few days, and would collect my rent when he came back.
“All the best, and thanks for the extension,” I said to the old buzzard, and Mr. Jacobs looked me up and down, shook his head and walked away. I smiled to myself as I walked up the stairs. The very next day, I asked Alain, a Haitian dude I knew from the local Haitian Adventist church, to help me out with his van. We loaded up my stuff, and then I paid for gas. Alain drove me all the way to Stacey’s apartment building in Gatineau.
“Babe I’m home,” I said to a surprised Stacey as I hugged her, then handed her four hundred bucks for the first month’s rent. Stacey looked at me, and smiled, and I swear I saw tears in her eyes. I took her face in my hands and kissed her, and then began helping Alain unload my stuff from the car. Once everything was there, I thanked Alain for his services, slipped a twenty in his hand, and then went upstairs with Stacey. We did the bump and grind right there on her living room floor. It was hot.
I never returned to the old building in Vanier. When Mr. Jacobs returned, he found a piece of paper with a smiley face under his door, along with my apartment keys. I didn’t give the old bastard one dime, and he found my apartment empty. Since I live in Gatineau now, I got a new cell phone number, one which I revealed to my friends and co-workers. The old one I had to jettison, since Mr. Jacobs clogged it with his empty threats. I got the old buzzard real good, didn’t I?
I live in the City of Gatineau now, and I love living with my dear Stacey. I love this young woman something fierce, even if she’s changed a lot since we moved in together. Stacey and I have grown close. Too damn close. My lady love farts a lot, right in front of me, and apparently can’t cook, and wants to eat Chinese food every damn day since there’s no Haitian restaurants in the area. Lucky me, eh? Gatineau is a messy little town full of wannabe thugs, both black and white. I see them on the bus and want to wring their necks but that’s ill-advised. So that’s life on the Quebec side. I escaped from the frying pan and leapt into the damn fire. So much for my luck, eh?
Now, it’s not all doom and gloom, folks. I do have some good news. Very good news, I might. Theodore, the new manager of the security company I work for got me a job with a local office building. They needed someone who speaks French and English, and is licenced in both Quebec and Ontario. Lucky for me I’m a Jack of All Trades. On the Quebec side, security jobs pay fifteen bucks an hour, which is way better than the eleven bucks an hour I made in Ontario.
Traveling to the City of Ottawa several times a week to attend classes at Carleton University isn’t easy since the Quebec buses suck but I’m adjusting. I’ve only got a semester left, and then I’ll have that piece of paper. I’m thinking of getting myself a government job in downtown Ottawa. Life isn’t perfect, but it’s alright. I’m dealing. Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, I did pay the Western Union folks back. I’m starting a new life with Stacey, and I want to do things right. I will wife her one of these days, after graduation of course. I’m a trickster when the occasion calls for it, but not a conman. There is a difference. Anyhow, got to bounce. Peace.
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