The sex was focused primarily on my pleasure, and he wasn’t lacking in anyway to be able to deliver it. My first time with this White kid from Jersey was intense. So when I finally allowed myself to sexually enjoy and explore men of other races and cultures, I found these stereotypes blatantly untrue, just as several of the Black men that I had shared my body with didn’t live up to the Mandingo standard. If you asked most of my friends, their packages tended to be small unless they were of Latin or Italian descent, but they made up for it in the oral sex arena. I grew up believing a number of stereotypes about non-Black men, especially when it came to sex. But the opportunities weren’t equal or treated the same. Part of it was prejudice part of it was reality. While young Black men certainly enjoyed relationships with young White women in my town, Black girls rarely were seen exploring the same types of relationships.
#Black cream pie full
This made me feel like my growth had come full circle, as I struggled growing up in a predominately White Jersey suburb to feel like interracial dating was an option for a young Black woman. Prior to that, I had shared my body with White Brasilians and Argentineans. While I know I wasn’t the first black woman he ever had sex with, he was the first White American that I had ever let into such an intimate space. What followed was a “first” to remember, as we took our time kissing and exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. I was sick, blowing my runny nose, and coughing, but he still wrapped his arms around me, made me tea, and made sure I was comfortable in his home. So when we hung out, all of the sudden our platonic friendship transformed into a prospect, even though it had likely already been a prospect for him months back. I had opened a different chapter in my dating life, one that included more interracial dating than relationships with Black men in Brazil. It had been almost six months since we had first met, and I certainly had changed. He told me to hit him up when I came to his city. I returned to the city to continue living my life, and we kept in touch through semi-frequent Skype chats about our lives as Americans in Brazil. I was prejudiced, or in kinder words, had a preference for brown beautiful men.Įventually, our vacation ended and he headed to the south of Brasil to start his new job. And frankly, I just wouldn’t let my guard down to the idea of hooking up with a White American guy when there were so many Afro-Brazilian men in my surroundings. He had met and pursued a local Brasilian girl who was beyond sweet. We spent the following days hanging out, walking the beach, but still keeping things platonic. I was looking to get away from the city, so I accepted, of course, booking my own hotel room and arriving days late on my own schedule. I still politely declined.Ī few days later, he was headed to a nearby island and invited me to come along to explore. But he was persistent and followed up by Skyping me that evening again extending his invitation. I wouldn’t give him a definite answer because I had articles to finish and work to do. He broke the ice immediately and said, “She’s American.” And once again, I got the line, “We thought you were Brazilian!” After watching the sunset together, he invited me to meet up with them to salsa that evening. Nonetheless, he invited me back to meet his friends, who were staring at him in disbelief thinking he’d actually succeeded in picking up this Brazilian girl. Shocked, he laughed and said, “I totally thought you were Brazilian.” He wouldn’t be the first to make the assumption. 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. 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. Just two kids from Jersey traveling abroad who happened to bump into each other by stereotypical mistake.
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