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Lucky bald man banged a sexy ebony chick on the floor
So when he asked me to stand before him naked, I had a flicker of doubt and fear. This was my first time with my dominant. My Sir. The white man who controlled my Black body and its pleasure. Having more experience with BDSM than I did, Jay suggested that we establish a foundation of trust before dabbling in power exchange.
We were friends. Nothing more. Just two kids from Jersey traveling abroad who happened to bump into each other by stereotypical mistake. His White European friends dared him to go and talk to that Black Brazilian girl sitting on the beach, who was really a Black American girl in disguise. After listening to his tired pick up line in American-accented Portuguese, I cut him off and bluntly asked him in English where he was from. But he was persistent and followed up by Skyping me that evening again extending his invitation. I still politely declined. A few days later, he was headed to a nearby island and invited me to come along to explore.
My friend Miranda has accompanied me here for moral support. We scale a no-frills metal staircase at the end of an alleyway behind the high street, where a weary blond woman is ruling a domain of coats, cash and lists. She has a defeated manner, like the only sober person at a party when everyone is drunk. I have no idea why I decided to make myself look so dowdy. Miranda is doing much better; she has obediently put on a basque, along with a skirt much shorter than mine, and boots that elongate her long legs. It was the easiest way of manipulating our actual names without revealing the fact that we are both black. His presence is comforting; he seems like an island of sanity in a sea of grotesque chaos.