Black Women are Goddesses Ch. 19

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Hello, there. My name is Wanda Jean-Pierre. A six-foot-three, dark-skinned, lean and athletic young Black woman of Haitian descent living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I’m a student at Avery Scott College, a small historically Black four-year school located in downtown Brockton. I major in medicine. The story I’m about to share with you involves how I met my future husband and got over the one that got away. I love my man. He’s the love of my life. I worship the ground he walks on. We met at a time of change both for the college we attended and our personal lives.

The face of Avery Scott College was changing, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. My parents, Alexander and Vonette Jean-Pierre met while studying in the library. More than twenty years ago. I’d hate for the school to change so much demographically and ideologically that they won’t recognize it anymore. Twenty-seven percent of the student body of this historically Black school is of Caucasian descent this year. Students of African-American, Haitian, Jamaican, North African and Cape Verdean descent make up the remaining seventy three percent. You don’t see a lot of white schools seriously trying to diversify their student body, that’s all I’m saying. They usually only do it for the sake of appearances. Don’t argue with my logic or insult my intelligence, people. You know I’m right.

My favorite school was changing, and the changes were really apparent in the Athletic Department. Originally, we competed in Football, men’s Baseball, women’s Softball, men’s and women’s Swimming, men’s and women’s Basketball, men’s and women’s Cross Country and men’s and women’s Volleyball. This year, they added men’s Ice Hockey, women’s Lacrosse, men’s and women’s Golf and men’s and women’s Track and Field. I sure as hell hope they don’t start to neglect our original varsity teams. Avery Scott College is a sixty-year-old institution. Originally dedicated to the education of African-Americans. Let’s not deviate from our mission. Thanks to the school’s diversity efforts, there are lots of young men on campus this year. They make up forty nine percent of the nine-thousand-person student body. Now that’s a welcome change in my eyes.

The first time I saw Marcus Simon, I thought he was fine. A six-foot-five, lean and muscular, good-looking Black stud. He was mixed, I could tell. His father James Simon is Haitian-American. He’s a Massachusetts State Police officer. Marcus is really proud of his dad, and his mother Aria Sanchez is a Mexican-American teacher. I didn’t usually go for light-skinned guys or biracial guys but this dude looked good. Even more impressive is the fact that he spoke Haitian Creole as fluently as I did. Marcus told me his parents made sure he embraced both sides of his heritage. The guy appreciated fine Haitian-made meals like rice and beans as well as Mexican tortillas. I had to respect that.

I’m captain of the Avery Scott College women’s Volleyball team, and we won an NCAA Division Two Championship during my first year and my second year. I hope we can do just as well this year. Soon I’m going to be a senior. This is my next to final year leading the team. The rookies had better prove themselves worthy, or else. This year three white chicks and an Asian broad tried out for the previously all-Black women’s Volleyball team. The Asian chick and one of the white chicks made it. That white chick’s name was Cheryl Watson. She was blonde, skinny, ambitious as hell and wanted my spot. I can’t stand that type of woman. And the Asian chick, Amelia Chang, definitely had an attitude problem. I had to watch these two. Can’t have anybody trying to take what’s mine.

Please don’t get it twisted. Defending what’s yours is what this life is all about. I heard from my cousin Ashley, star of the Avery Scott College women’s swimming team, that two white chicks joined the team. The team was previously made up exclusively of African-American and Hispanic chicks. Times are changing at Avery Scott College. However, I don’t have to like it. Now, I don’t have a problem with the newcomers trying out for our teams. If they’re talented, they might be an asset to said teams. Now, they have to remember that this is our school and these are our teams. escort tandoğan Let them be respectful and don’t act like they own the place.

Let’s move on to better things. The sexy stud known as Marcus Simon was in my sociology class. He’s one of eight males in a class of twenty people. As luck would have it, Cheryl ended up in the class. And she clearly wanted Marcus Simon. I’ll be damned if I let that white chick get her hooks into the sexiest brother on campus. Still, that witch had me worried. Marcus Simon is on the all-new Men’s Ice Hockey team. He’s one of a few brothers I know who play this sport. There are three other Black guys, one Asian guy and one Hispanic dude on the team, the rest are white guys. I’m not really into ice hockey. It’s not the kind of sport you could pay me to watch. It simply doesn’t interest me.

Marcus Simon plays ice hockey, and since I love him, I’ve to deal. I had to change my attitude toward hockey, and fast. It wasn’t easy. Cheryl on the other hand wears Bruins shirts all the time and showed up at the ice hockey team’s events. And she made sure she brought all of her white female friends with her. So I showed up too, to show my future hubby some support. And you had better believe I brought some Black ladies with me. I told my girlfriends if they didn’t come help me support my favorite guy, there would be hell to pay. Cheryl gave me the evil eye. She knew what I was doing. The men’s ice hockey program wasn’t the most popular team on campus. Only the parents of the players and some of their girlfriends showed up. Otherwise the newly constructed hockey arena was usually empty. Well, I endeavored to change that. And you know what? I did!

I became such a vocal supporter of the men’s ice hockey team that the coach, a nice-looking Italian guy named Marciano, gave me a team jacket for free. The guy even told me I was his good luck charm. When I showed up with about fifty of my lady friends or so, the team played better and usually won. Coach Marciano invited me and some of my closest girlfriends to travel with the team when they went away for events. I really didn’t mind that. Especially since Marcus seemed to like having me around. I would sit next to him and joke with him and his buddies.

Now that I think about it, the dudes on the men’s ice hockey team weren’t bad. They were a cool, easygoing bunch. I even befriended some of them. This Jamaican-American goalie named Patterson Jays had a crush on me, and he was cute but I made it clear we could only be friends. Nothing against Jamaican guys but I love my Haitian men. Eric Lee, the only Asian dude on the team told me he wished his girlfriend Mariko supported him like I did Marcus. Such a sweet thing for him to say! I liked the team and they liked me. The only person I couldn’t stand was Cheryl. She still hanging around. The witch wanted to get her hooks into Marcus, especially now that he made captain. Now, even in 2009, a Black guy becoming captain of a collegiate ice hockey team is a big deal. Marcus became the darling of the media, so to speak. Sports Illustrated did an article on him, as did Black Enterprise. The Brockton Enterprise newspaper even made him their front page cover. Isn’t that cool?

I could care less about Marcus prowess on the ice. I loved him and I wanted him to myself. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to realize that I loved him. Cheryl kept flirting with him and to my dismay, he flirted right back. It broke my heart when I saw that. I saw her hug him after a big match. That night, I went home and wept. I lay in my bed that night, and wondered why he didn’t want me. I’m tall, pretty in the face, strong in the body and thick in the booty. Like my idol, the gorgeous sportswoman Serena Williams. She’ll always be the World’s Number One in my heart. Why didn’t Marcus Simon want me? Why did he seem to prefer the company of Cheryl, a short and skinny blonde-haired white chick?

I don’t know. I must be the billionth Black woman to ask herself that question. I looked at myself honestly. I’m tall, good-looking and smart. I was valedictorian of my high school in Brockton, and had acceptance letters and scholarship offers from all over. Yeah. From the Massachusetts escort tunalı Institute of Technology to Boston College, Boston University, the University of Maine and Northeastern. So many schools wanted me. Instead I accepted an academic scholarship from Avery Scott College, a historically Black school and my parents alma mater. My father Alexander went on from being a gifted undergrad in Avery Scott College’s Biology Department to Howard University Medical School. He’s now a surgeon at Mass General. My mother Vonette went from Avery Scott College to Boston College’s Business School. She’s now President of Acquisitions at Anderson Limited, a multinational company. My brother Henry is at West Point Military Academy. I come from a family of winners. And I’m smart and beautiful. I love and support him. How could he not want me?

I had about a million questions. And zero answers. Marcus began dating Cheryl, and they were the talk of the campus. I ignored both of them. It wasn’t easy to ignore Cheryl because she was on the volleyball team and she wouldn’t shut up about Marcus sexual prowess in bed. Great. Marcus passed up a classy, pretty sister like me for a classless, dumb white chick. I seethed with anger whenever I saw them. Guess who’s been there for me while I went through this mess? I had my girlfriends, of course. However, I received some much needed male advice from an unlikely source. This tall, soft-spoken and handsome Jamaican-American ice hockey player named Patterson Jays. I had no idea how really awesome he was. Patterson became my friend, and he took my mind off Marcus Simon and Cheryl.

I got to know Patterson Jays really well. He was six-foot-one, and felt that a taller sister like me might not like him. I told him I like him just fine. Seriously. Why do guys always assume tall chicks are stuck up? Most of us are no more stuck up than short chicks are. It’s a stereotype we’ve yet to live down. Patterson was friendly, smart and easygoing. He took me to Boston in his car, and we watched movies together. He was new to America, having moved here from his native Jamaica only two years ago. He discovered a talent for hockey at the Catholic school he attended and decided to play in college. When he heard that the state of Massachusetts only historically Black four-year-college was starting a hockey team, he applied there. The rest was history.

I found myself liking Patterson. He was good-looking, though he didn’t have the looks of a male model like Marcus Simon. He was ruggedly handsome. To my great surprise, he spoke my favorite language really well. I rarely met Jamaicans who could speak Haitian Creole. Where did he pick it up? Patterson laughed, and told me he lived in Haiti for three years while his mother Janice worked there as a professor at one of the universities. She was teaching at a school in Kingston, Jamaica, and Patterson was living at his father Robert’s house while attending college. Patterson’s dad Robert Jays was a famous author, and a professor of African-American literature at Northeastern University. One day, the three of us had dinner together when Mr. Robert visited his son impromptu. He was a charming man, and quite friendly. I liked him. I was growing fond of Patterson, and I must say he had a really nice ass when you looked at him at a certain angle. After meeting his tall, handsome father and learning a bit about his accomplished family, I began to seriously want a relationship with him. So I asked him out. What do you think he said? Like he could resist me!

Yeah, I never thought I’d fall for a freshman. But I fell in love with Patterson Jays. The tall, ruggedly handsome Jamaican hockey player swept me off my feet. He was so gentle and kind. A true gentleman. And he was sexy as hell. Playing the rough and tumble sport of hockey did wonders to tone him. He was very appreciative of me and called me his Black goddess. I’ve never been called a goddess before. I must say I liked the sound of that. My dad called me his princess but my man considered me his goddess. I’m one lucky Black woman!

The first time Patterson and I made love, it was wonderful. My favorite stud laid me on his bed and licked me from my head to my escort türbanlı toes. Hell, he even sucked my toes. He spread my thighs gently and licked my pussy like there was no tomorrow. His agile tongue darted in and out of my pussy, teasing my clit as he probed me with his fingers. In no time he had me squealing in delight. He made me cum time and again. I was amazed. So I decided to return the favor. I didn’t usually do this for my men but I liked Patterson. So I sat him down on the bed, got on my knees and took his manhood in my hands. Patterson was well-endowed. His dick was easily eight inches long, kind of thick and uncircumcised. He felt self-conscious about that but I told him that, as a medical student, I didn’t find any reasons why men’s bodies should be altered in any way. I liked him exactly as he was. He liked that. I showed him how much I liked him by sucking him off. I sucked him till he was hard as a piston, and when he came, I surprised the both of us by draining him of his manly essence.

We continued to do our thing. I put a condom on Patterson’s dick, and straddled him. Patterson placed his hands on my hips and thrust into me. I groaned as his manhood filled my pussy. Patterson told me to rest my hands on his shoulders and ride him hard. Aye, I liked the sound of that. I did as I was told. I put my arms around my man and rode him hard, wanting him to tear up my pussy with his big cock. And that’s exactly what he did. Patterson fucked me so hard, I had to ask for a repeat performance, and another, all in that first night. His energy was amazing. He put me on all fours, smacked my big ass gently and drilled me from behind. I told him to grab my hair and fuck me hard. He did, fucking me like a real rough rider. Exactly the way I liked it. We humped the night away, folks. It was terrific.

I woke up next to my man, and he smiled at me before kissing my hand. Patterson wasn’t just a great guy and a terrific lover. He was a real romantic. I loved that about him. He knew how to treat a sister. After this memorable night, we became inseparable. He supported me in volleyball games and I supported him in hockey. My lady friends told me we were the school’s golden couple. A tall, dark and handsome, intelligent Black college man who loved a tall, dark and gorgeous, gifted Black college woman. Black love, college edition. Something many on campus wish they saw more often. I love Patterson, and I told him that. He told me he loved me too. Isn’t that wonderful?

I’ve introduced him to my parents and they loved him. Thanks to him, I now understand certain things. I now know why Marcus Simon and Cheryl came into my life. It was so I could realize I didn’t need either of them in my life. I fell for Marcus because he was handsome, and flashy. Flash will never trump substance. Patterson is a hunk with more than just good looks and athletic talent going on for him. He’s a smart brother, who knows how to treat a sister. He’s a Black man who truly loves Black women. A rare breed these days. And I’m a Black woman who loves Black men and will never give up on them. We truly belong together.

It’s been a year, and Patterson and I are still going strong. He’s captain of the men’s ice hockey team this year, having taken the number one spot away from Marcus Simon. Apparently, Marcus isn’t as focused on his game as he should be. Cheryl is giving him problems. Wow. I graduated valedictorian of my class at Avery Scott College, outperforming men and women of all stripes. Simply because I’m the best. On that glorious day, my parents were there to support me. And you know what? So was Robert Jays, Patterson’s dad. I was so happy and thankful for their support. I’ve gotten accepted at the prestigious Boston University Medical School.

I’m going there, but I plan on balancing things out. Make time for my studies and also for my family and my relationship with Patterson. We’re engaged, by the way. It’s not going to be easy for our relationship. I’ll be all the way in Boston and he’s still in Brockton. Somehow, we’ll make it work. I’m not losing him. He’s a good-looking Black college man who loves the sister in his life. He’s a good man. A hard find in this world. And you had better believe I’m hanging onto him. I’m the chick who comes to the hockey arena wearing scrubs because I’ve just gotten out of class and gone straight to the stadium to support my man on the ice. And my Patterson loves me for it. Told you we’re making it work. The Black love is uniquely special. And he’s worth it.

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