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Sexual harassment and abuse are a big problem in the LGBT community. I’m not talking about Straight people picking on sexual minorities, I’m referring to predatory behavior by certain LGBT people who prey on their own. That’s why I give them a wide berth and lead a mostly Straight life. Of course, the fuckers still find me in spite of my attempts at dodging them, and sometimes things get dicey…
Who’s this, you may ask? Charles Arly, resident Bisexual male of Afro-Caribbean descent, fourth-year university student and inconvenient truth teller. I am sexually and emotionally attracted to both ladies and fellas, but I don’t feel the urge to live my life the way I see other LGBT people live theirs. Creepy behavior and adherence to stereotypes? Seriously, miss me with that shit.
I’m six-foot-one, big and tall, dark-skinned, with a shaved head and a deep voice. When most people think of a Bisexual man, I’m definitely not the first person that comes to mind. And that’s how I like it. I grew up on the island of Haiti, and love Soccer. I don’t know shit about Pop music, or fashion, or musicals. I am only me, and for those of you who like predictable, boring and stereotypical bozos, kindly opt to read something else…
As a Bisexual man, do I check out every lady that I see, the way a lot of Straight men do? Nope. I like what I like. I prefer women with curvy bodies and nice butts. Skin tone is unimportant. Oh, and those ladies happen to be a bit older than me, that’s more than okay. I’m that guy who used to check out the MILF magazines when I was younger. I used to fantasize about the ladies from my mother’s church groups. Don’t judge me.
As for the fellas, my likings are fairly simple. I prefer the tall ones with masculine appearances, masculine mannerisms and deep voices. Oh, and they have to be Bisexual too because Gay males hate me for being who and what I am. About the masculine part, I cannot emphasize that enough. I have nothing against effeminate males, I just don’t consider them dating material. Nor will I go to bed with one. Ever. Thanks but no thanks.
Who are my celebrity crushes? Hmm. Difficult to say. I have so many. On the ladies side, I like Porn Star Abella Danger, because she’s cute and freaky, but also looks like the college gals on my campus. This seemingly innocent white chick can handle an Interracial Gang Bang like it’s nobody’s business! White girls who love their chocolate, is there anything hotter?
Now, please don’t think that I’m one of those Black men with zero love for the sisters. That’s simply not true. I happen to think Black women are beautiful. I also really, really like Porn Star Jada Fire, and was kind of upset when she retired. Nobody does anal scenes or freaky, anything-goes, steamy male/male/female threesomes like Jada Fire. That woman deserves an Oscar, or the Porn equivalent.
On the fellas side, I like Porn Star Chris Strokes. Yeah, I know he’s Straight and I respect that. I simply appreciate his…art. The dude looks absolutely awesome banging the hell out of hot women of all races. I particularly like watching him have anal sex with hot women. Chris Strokes is funny as hell and really well-endowed. A lot of Black men don’t like seeing White guys with Black women but that stuff doesn’t bother me when it’s Chris Strokes banging the big-booty sisters. Yes, you read right. Don’t judge me.
I also have a thing for the Champ, a certain Black British Boxer who shall remain unnamed. I’ll give you a few hints as to who he is, the brother is humble, looks really good, and rocks in the Boxing ring. Let’s just say that this brother has that unique combination of height, athleticism and good looks that would make it easy for him to become a Movie Star once he retires from boxing. He’s never posed naked as far as I can tell, but I KNOW he’s packing.
The Champ is dear to me, and he’s popular with lots of people who don’t even give a damn about Boxing. He is revving up global interest in Boxing and is a great ambassador for the sport. He’s currently undefeated and I heartily hope he continues to win. I, um, have his poster in my bedroom…next to a homemade calender of Porn Star Abella Danger’s booty shots!
I live in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Well, that’s if you can call it living. I exist out here, how about that? If you haven’t been there, you should know that it’s not just the Capital of Canada, it’s also the most passive aggressive place in the damn Universe. Watch your back around these parts and trust no one. Beneath the veneer of civility, they’re worse than wolves…
The City of Ottawa is the only place where people will fake-cough bahis firmaları when you try to sit on the bus next to them, and then apologize profusely for their outrageously fake coughing once you sit someplace else. They do that a lot on the bus and the train. Now, maybe it’s my inner Haitin flexing, but I find these fakers and phonies even more annoying than people who are openly hostile.
Anyhow, as I said before, Ottawa is a strange place. I came here to study Criminology as an undergrad, in preparation for a career as a lawyer, should I manage to get into Law School. The school which I attend, Canada’s Capital University, is fairly big and lively but lacks both a Medical School and a Law School.
Now, Canada’s Capital University has a lot to recommend it. Sure, most world-class universities have medical schools and law schools, but that’s not everything. My school more than makes up for its lacks by being a very diverse campus, racially speaking. Of course, when a school has a little bit of everyone and everything, that unfortunately includes weirdoes and undesirables…
“What’s up boss?” said a tall, skinny brown-haired white dude in a bright pink T-shirt as I walked by the printers. I was on the campus library’s main floor, on my way to the water fountain. I wanted to fill up my water bottle and slake my thirst because, well, for some reason, I get thirsty in the winter. Instead, I had to deal with a bozo who happened to be feeling another kind of thirst…
“Buddy, your girlfriend’s right here, quit flirting with me,” I said sharply, looking at Mr. Pink and the short, pale, hat-wearing chick who happened to be standing next to him. I didn’t know if she was his girlfriend, his female shopping buddy or his fag hag. Hell, these days, she could be all three. I found the dude annoying, and don’t like bozos that I don’t even know calling me out.
“Hey, you’re back,” said the hat-wearing chick, and she looked at me and smiled as I came back from the water fountain. I looked at her, puzzled by her behavior. As if on cue, Mr. Pink looked at me, leering at me in a way that made my frigging skin crawl. I repressed a shudder as he looked me up and down, and then said his piece, so to speak…
“Hey, cutie, I like the hat,” said Mr. Pink, and I took a deep breath. A lot of Bisexual men are fairly adventurous, doing the bed-hopping thing with random girls and random guys. I know some guys who would have been flattered by being flirted with by this pink-shirted bozo here and his skinny, hat-wearing girlfriend. I don’t like that at all. Whether you’re a guy or a gal, don’t get too forward with me. If I want you, I’ll approach you. Otherwise keep your fucking distance.
“Buddy, for real, cut this shit out,” I said angrily, and at which point, Mr. Pink meekly protested that he was Straight, but by then I’d already walked away. I returned to my seat, and focused on the true object of my affection. My LSAT registration form, plus the confirmation, and the fact that I was about to take the most important exam of my life in a few weeks.
I had better things to do than worry about a less-than-masculine bozo in a pink T-shirt and his annoying female companion. I verified the LSAT registration form, printed out the receipt, and the confirmation with my picture ID on it. I will need those things when I take the LSAT in a few weeks, at another university located right here in Ottawa.
“Salaam, Chuck, how’s it going?” came a feminine voice, and I looked up and saw…her. Mariam Niazi, a vision of feminine beauty. Curvy, with fair skin, long dark hair and lively brown eyes, Mariam reminds me of Angela from Phat Juicy Ass, an online spot I spent way too much time surfing when I was younger. She’s got the kind of thick, round ass that would give a stiff one to a dead man. Mama mia, I want some of that!
“Hello Mariam,” I reply, looking her up and down, and I chivalrously pull the chair for her. Mariam sits down and looks at the computer in front of her. At this hour, the campus library is semi-packed. I check Mariam out, and I like what I see. She’s wearing a black overcoat, a black tank top and Yoga pants today. Thank Heaven for Yoga pants, I thought to myself as I checked out her fine derriere.
Mariam is originally from Iran, and she’s hinted several times that she knows I swing both ways. I have a thing for her. You see, she’s the only gal I get nervous around. When she looks at me, my heart skips a beat. Mariam is smart, funny, and has a good heart. She puts up with my booty-gawking and endless flirtations. When Mariam is around, I stop checking out random girls and hunky guys and focus exclusively kaçak iddaa on her. I want to make her mine, but she’s a resister…
Seriously, I don’t have to try too hard to get a gal, or a guy. I sometimes feel sorry for Straight guys and their struggles. It’s simple, fellas. Ignore the gals and they’ll chase you. Um, perhaps I should take my own advice. I really, really like Mariam. Unfortunately she’s still stuck up on her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Ghana, some African dude who chose his career over her, way back when. Um, okay…
“Oh, Chuck, I really have to hand in the application to that school in Washington D.C. before midnight or I’m a dead woman,” Mariam says, sighing for effect. I’m about to reply when I see a familiar face walk by. It’s my buddy Samir, who’s Lebanese, and an engineering major. He’s of average height, skinny, with dark hair, bronze skin, and a penchant for dressing in a dapper manner.
“Salaam, Sam,” I say cheerfully, and Sam smiles and nods, but keeps walking. I normally run into Sam on a different floor of the campus library. He likes it on the quiet floor. I’m convinced that Sam swings both ways based on his Facebook posts. Like me, he likes pictures of hot booty without necessarily checking the gender of the person said booty is attached to. Such a progressive guy, eh?
“Good evening, Charles,” Sam says, somewhat coldly, and he quietly walks away. I return my focus on Mariam Niazi, but my mind is elsewhere. Sam’s reaction puzzles me, then I realize what it is. Sam is Lebanese, and although he’s a Bisexual man just like me, he still has that complex a lot of guys from his part of the world have when it comes to “their” ladies being with men of other races. Fascinating stuff, to be sure. I don’t have any such complex.
“No worries, Mariam, I got you,” I say with a smile, and I brush my hand against hers. Mariam smells wonderful, and I am distracted by her pouty lips as she browses through the applications. Once again I wonder what it would be like to hold Mariam in my arms, to kiss her and make love to her. I want to feel those thick, sexy legs wrapped around me. I want to grab her big ass and give it a squeeze.
“I’m serious about this, Chuck,” Mariam says, rolling her eyes, and I guess my facial expression gave away my thoughts. I’m not the most discrete person out there when it comes to anything sexual. I take Mariam’s hand and gently bring it to my lips, like I’ve seen Hollywood legend Will Smith do in the movies. Mariam laughs and pulls her hand away. I smile and shrug, even though I feel a bit hurt…
“Six degrees of Friend-Zoning,” I say to myself, as I continue helping Mariam with the applications. I review her essay, and all that jazz, and then all is spiffy and ready to roll. Mariam Niazi is a lovely woman but she’s also quite fussy. As she’s fussing over the applications, whose deadline is in a couple of hours, I feel…bored.
“Hmm, I got an idea,” Mariam says, and abruptly, she winks at me. I’m still processing that mysterious wink when she gets up. Mariam heads to the printers, drops a pen, picks it up and I get a major look at her big ass which is threatening to pop out of her Yoga pants. Now I’m the one who has to get up abruptly…and it’s all her fault.
Canada’s Capital University has an awesome library, but with lousy washrooms. The only decent one for a guy to masturbate in with some dignity and privacy is on the fourth floor. I head into the big stall, and pull down my pants. Since I don’t wear underwear, my dick pops out, semi-hard and in need of manual attention.
“Hmm, Mariam, show me that booty,” I murmur to myself as I close my eyes. In my fantasy, Mariam bends over, and yanks down her Yoga pants, revealing that thick, creamy white ass. I want to kiss that ass and smack it and make it pop. My dick hardens and lengthens in my hand. I stroke myself furiously, thinking of Mariam’s ass.
Now, I don’t know what it’s like for other Bisexual guys, but when I jerk off, all kinds of erotic thoughts intrude into my mind. I’m jerking off thinking about Mariam, her pretty face, that curvy body, those big tits, those wide hips and that big round ass, and for some reason, I also think of Porn Star Chris Strokes and his big fuck stick.
“Move,” I grumble, and I brush aside thoughts of Chris Strokes and his thick member, focusing instead on Mariam’s big ass. In my fantasy, I want to be the one banging Mariam, not some other dude, not even a dude I think is hot. I visualize Mariam’s big ass straddling my face and I eat her pussy and lick her asshole. I just love a woman with a big ass and can’t get enough of her…
I’m greedy and other kaçak bahis thoughts intrude in my mind, thoughts of Porn Actress Jada Fire getting gang-banged. Reluctantly I push aside those thoughts, and instead, in my fantasy, I told Mariam’s hands behind her back and fuck her. She grinds that big ass against my groin, driving my hard, dark dick deep inside of her.
“Fuck me hard, Chuck,” Mariam all but hisses at me, in my fantasy. I love a bossy woman with a big butt, and they don’t get any hotter than Mariam. I fuck her hard, thrusting my dick into her pussy and watching her big ass bounce against me. I fuck Mariam the way I’ve seen my favorite Porn Stars, guys like Brian Pumper and Lexington Steele fuck big-bottomed women of all races. A sharp groan escapes my lips as I cum, exploding all over myself.
I take a few calming breaths, and pull up my pants. I flush the toilet even though I didn’t use it. I feel guilty about leaving cum stains all over the damn washroom but don’t want to touch the stuff, even with toilet paper. I wash my hands and look in the mirror. I smile at my reflection, and get ready to bounce.
Someone’s coming into the men’s washroom. Tall, skinny and well-dressed young Asian dude. I don’t know him. He smiles and makes too much eye contact. Translation? He’s either gay or bisexual. I’m not sticking around to find out. I promptly exit the washroom without saying a word. Dudes who have sex with other dudes in washrooms disgust me. Not the act of sex, just the choice of location. I jerk off solo in the washroom, like a gentleman. See? I am civilized!
I head to the elevators, and there’s too many peons, I mean people, in front of them. I take the stairs, and that’s when it hits me. I’ve seen Mr. Pink before, a few months back. I was in the stairwell, talking on the phone and he walked by with a couple of funny-looking black dudes. He winked at me quite suggestively. At the time I just looked at him oddly, not knowing what to make of it.
“Mr. Pink is a sex creep, whether gay or bisexual, who has a fetish for black guys,” I whisper, and then a plan of action forms in my mind. A dude like that is probably all over social media, and he has lots of black friends. A bunch of bozos whom he befriends in the hopes of doing sexual things with them. The only problem I have with that is that he targeted me. I’m going to find out who he is and report him for sexual harassment. Nip the problem in the bud.
“Hey, Chuck, where were you?” Mariam asks, as I return to my seat. I look at her and smile. She’s done with the application and emails the video portion of it to the good folks of the admissions department at a certain university in the U.S. I sincerely hope that Mariam gets into that school, even though I’m going to miss her…and her big ole ass.
“Nature called,” I reply, hoping that Mariam will drop the subject. We banter for a bit, and then I realize it’s ten o’clock. I am working at midnight in Stitsville, Ontario, of all places and I don’t have a car. Translation? I’ve got to take a train and two buses to get to my destination, so I have to high-tail it out of here. Awkwardly I kiss Mariam’s hand, and she smiles, shakes her head and waves me off.
“Bonne nuit,” Mariam Niazi says, as I wave her goodbye, and make a beeline for the campus library’s front doors. I run to the train, and begin my long trek to Stitsville, Ontario. That’s the sticks as far as I’m concerned. When you work security and don’t have a fixed site, you take the shifts that your dispatch give you. This is how I make my living until I find a better job and become a Lawyer.
Tonight, the security company is sending me to look after an office building. Apparently, some former employee has threatened to either smash or blow up the place. Maybe he wants to do both. Don’t know what use I’d be in a situation like that, but whatever. I’ll spend the night reviewing my LSAT Prep notes, watching music videos on YouTube, and probably jerking off in the washroom. It’s definitely going to be a busy night.
Tomorrow, I’ll scour social media looking for Mr. Pink, the creep whom I’ve got a bone to pick with. I don’t care who you are, sexual harassment isn’t cool. Lots of men simply don’t get it when it comes to sexual harassment, much to women’s everlasting chagrin. The average man doesn’t know what it’s like to have some insistent bugger chase after him and simply refuse to go away…
I, Charles Arly, can empathize with the ladies plight…in this one instance. Please allow me to explain. As a Bisexual man who prefers women and has to fend off creepy males who simply won’t respect my lifestyle choices, I get it. No means no regardless of your gender, your color, or which way you swing. Consider me an ally, ladies. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work. It’s going to be a long and sticky night…
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