Black Woman Loves Bisexual Man

Hey, there. My name is Abigail Shay. A six-foot-tall, curvy and big-bottomed, absolutely stunning and dark-skinned young Black woman living in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. I've got some terrific news to share with you. Drum roll please! I seduced my formerly gay best friend Robert Gory and helped him discover there's more to life than chasing guys. Yeah, he found out the fun way that hooking up with a female every now and then can be good for him. He now identifies as bisexual, and we're fuck buddies. And I'm having the time of my life. Seriously, life simply couldn't be better.

I've known Robert Gory ever since our days at Brockton Community High School. It was hard not to know him back then. At six-foot-four and two hundred and thirty pounds, he seemed genetically engineered to be a great athlete. The offspring of an African-American father and a German-American mother. His parents, James Gory and Bathilda Steinberg met while attending the University of Massachusetts, during the early 1980s. They got married, and produced him. The light-skinned, gray-eyed and curly-haired, handsome Black guy I fell in love with.

I didn't think perfect men existed before I met him. Robert Gory was tall, good-looking and smart. I'm talking about Genius-level smart. Also, he was funny, warm and friendly. A great athlete and a terrific student who always earned straight A's in his advanced placement classes. He was always accompanied by his buddies, a group of tall young Black and Hispanic men from the Football and Basketball teams. I'm the first female to play Varsity Football for Brockton Community High School. Had a tough time convincing my father, Richard Shay, to let me play. He played Football for the High School back in the day. My brother Jack played all four years of H.S. before he went on to play for Endicott College. Yet Dad didn't want me to play. The only person who made me feel welcome on the team was Robert. And he didn't do it to patronize me, or out of political correctness. He did it because he's a friendly guy who believes in giving people a chance before judging them. I'd never met a man like that before.

Robert was awesome, folks. I grew up playing Football with my dad and my older brother, so I knew what's what. However, varsity football was a whole different game from backyard football with the guys in my neighborhood. Robert worked with me, and taught me a lot about the game. Folks, pretty soon I was smitten with him. Seriously. He was insanely hot. He was probably smarter than frigging Einstein, though he'd never say that. And he was a good guy, too. A lot of the chicks at the school wanted him but I had greater access to the legendary Robert Gory than they did because we played for the same team. I think I played as hard as I did because I wanted to impress Bobby. I'm the only person he lets call him that, by the way.

Yeah, I remember the day I got seriously injured when we played against Boston College High School. We lost the game, but I got carried off on civvies as the crowd from the City of Champions cheered my name. I went home to a hero's welcome. And guess who came to visit me at the hospital? Bobby himself. And he brought me my favorite video game, Halo, instead of dumb-ass flowers. Isn't he great? I was in love with Bobby, and determined to have him for myself. With my leg broken, I couldn't play football for the rest of the season but I attended every game. I rode on the bus with the guys. And I cheered them on louder than anyone else, except maybe Bobby's mother. She's the loudest woman I've ever met.

I didn't know how to go about asking Bobby out. I mean, every chick at the school wanted him. The picture-perfect tall Black stud who was captain of the football team and, academically speaking, one of the top-ranked students in our class. I mean, what chick wouldn't want him? Unless they're gay, already in a relationship or just plain stupid. I often wondered how come I never saw Bobby with any females. When talking to the gals at school, he was polite and friendly. I'm the only one he ever really talked to. And I noticed he looked uncomfortable when his buddies talked about females. At the time, I thought it was because he's such a polite gentleman. The guys at Brockton Community High School, and most of the chicks, have really big mouths. They brag about everyone they've ever done. How many "she's got a huge booty" and "he's got a giant prick" type of stories can you listen to everyday before you get bored?

I thought my Bobby was a guy with infinite class. The kind of man who holds out for someone decent instead of tapping every booty that comes calling. And he deserved to be with a gal who was fine, and smart, and someone who understood him. A girl who would be good to him. Not one of those hussies I see around the school. Black, White, Hispanic, Cape Verdean or Latina, they all throw themselves at guys like they're desperate. So I decided to seduce Bobby. I thought I could get it done. After all, I knew him better than anybody else at the school. Sometimes, he came by my house on Ash Street to hang out. We watched TNA Wrestling in my basement, and discussed our favorite shows, Smallville, Supernatural and Law & Order : Criminal Intent. We had so much in common it's scary. I felt so close to him. Like I could tell him anything. I mean, he was perfect.

I kept throwing little hints his way, trying to let him know that I liked him. Like a note on his locker, a hot picture of myself on MySpace, or simply showing up dressed really sexy when we hung out after school. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to notice. I didn't know what to do, folks. I even tried talking to his mother. Bathilda Steinberg Gory was one tough lady. Six feet two inches tall, somewhat heavyset, with darkly tanned skin, long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. This former college soccer star looked very Scandinavian. Like a female version of Thor, my favorite comic book character. I was kind of intimidated when we first met but she turned out to be real friendly. Especially once she understood that I wasn't a hormonal nutcase like the chicks who sometimes came by, asking about her son. As for Bobby's dad, he was real cool. He's a pilot for American Airlines so he travels a lot.

One afternoon, I sat down with Bathilda and we talked about Bobby. She was very inquisitive, now that I let her know that I was romantically interested in her son. Like any mother worthy of the name, she was very protective of her son. And didn't trust any chick who showed any interest in him. The way good fathers are suspicious of their daughters significant others. Bathilda told me that she wanted her son to go to college, and have a good life. She didn't want him to get tangled in any affairs with strange young women. I assured her I wasn't like that. I wasn't a crazy chick or a control freak. I wasn't a sex hound or one of those chicks who hump anything that moved until they got knocked up. No sir. I wasn't like that. I wanted to go to college, and have a good life. No brats for me. And no drama. Thank you very much. Bathilda smiled after I said that. I smiled too. I think I passed her test, for she gave me her blessing. And now to the hard part. I had to ask Bobby out.

I popped the question, as they say, one Friday night while we were hanging out in his basement. We were watching a rerun of StarGate SG-1, the original series. Bobby stared at me as if he got struck by lightning. I looked at him askance. What was his answer? Bobby began to mumble incoherently. I smiled. My father told me something like this might happen. Some guys got really incoherent when nervous in front of a gal they liked. I gently touched Bobby's arm, and told him to relax. Then I kissed him. It was my first time kissing a guy I was in love with. Not like, love. And the moment was magical. What followed wasn't. With the three little words, Bobby shattered my world. He told me he was gay. I knew he was too good to be true.

Do I know how to pick them or what? The first guy I ever liked, Kenny Brown, ditched me after we slept together. He left me for a white chick named Amber. Or was it Bambi? Whatever. The second guy I really liked, a Cape Verdean stud named Alex Mendes, left me for my friend Sasha. And now, Bobby told me he was gay. I stared at him, stunned. Bobby was gay? My Bobby? How could that be? He played football a s if he were born with a pigskin in the palm of his hand. He was sexy as hell. And he was a bit of a slob, though I found that charming about him. I'm a really messy chick so clean freaks scare me. I never would have guessed Bobby was gay. Not even if I saw him doing it Brokeback Mountain-style with some guy on hill. And yet, he was. I knew he wasn't lying.

Bobby took my hands in his, and we both cried. I cried because the guy I loved was gay. Every gal's dream. And he cried because he felt like he disappointed me by being what he was. I assured him I wasn't disappointed. I was merely surprised. Bobby later told me how lonely he was. Being a closeted gay man in the macho world of football couldn't be easy. Already he'd been approached by scouts from the local athletic powerhouses. Schools like Boston College, UMass-Amherst, Northeastern University and even Harvard University had come calling. He was a college football team's dream. An outstanding athlete with a clean-cut lifestyle, outstanding talents and a stellar academic record. Academically speaking, he could go to an Ivy League school if he wanted to. And every school fielding NCAA Division One Football would be glad to have him. It could all go away if people found out he was gay. He'd been under a lot of pressure. Bobby didn't need some horny chick riding his jock right now. He needed a confidante and a friend. So that's what I did. I became the friend he desperately needed. The only person he could be himself around.

The rest of senior year went by. Bobby and I became closer than ever before. We weren't just football teammates. We were the best of friends. Everyone thought we were a couple and to be honest, I didn't really mind. I did mind the two of us not getting to do the stuff couples usually did. Like making out in movie theaters, giving each other annoying nicknames and of course, having sex! We graduated from Brockton Community High School alongside hundreds of our classmates in June of 2008.

The following fall found Bobby and me living on the Robert Hill College campus. It's an HBCU. A historically Black college or university. Named after one of the little-known leaders of the civil rights movement. Robert Hill College was founded in 1899 in Boston, Massachusetts as the Robert Hill Normal School. One hundred and ten years later, it's one of the best private schools in New England. With a student body of eleven thousand and five hundred students. Fifty eight percent of whom were of African-American descent. What attracted Bobby and I to it were the sports teams. Robert Hill College sponsors Men's Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Swimming, Wrestling, Football, Golf, Volleyball, Tennis, Track & Field and Rugby along with Women's Softball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Swimming, Gymnastics, Bowling, Volleyball, Equestrian, Golf, Tennis, Track & Field, Lacrosse, Rugby and Field Hockey. All teams are NCAA Division Two. They recently created a Football team in an effort to boost male enrollment. And lo and behold, they wanted Bobby to lead it.

As for me, I tried out for the football team. And I made it. Joining the elite ranks of the few women in American history who've played college football. Another milestone for yours truly. Bobby became the quarterback and I was a linewoman. Yes, linewoman. Not all offensive linemen are men. Deal with it. I had to prove myself to my new teammates. They thought I was just another chick playing tough and clamoring for attention thanks to a Title IX paradox. I was a big help to the team during our victory over Stonehill College. I don't think they respected me before. That day, I was the team hero. Bobby and I had our picture in the paper. What a story. The African-American couple who plays college football together. College sweethearts who met while playing high school football and now played for the same college. We got interviewed by ESPN, BET and CNN. Wow.

I didn't know I'd be such a sensation. I mean, I got a lot of attention while playing high school football but now I was internationally famous! I mean, men and women would approach me on the street and ask for my autograph. What's up with that? Bobby basked in the attention too. One guy asked him who wore the pants in our relationship. He jokingly said we both wore the pants, and had matching jockstraps! I loved watching him talk to the media. He was so funny, warm and friendly. Not some arrogant know-it-all like so many young men and women playing NCAA sports. We became the face of the Robert Hill College athletic program. And the new face of Black Collegiate America. I mean, people made fan groups about us on MySpace and Facebook. What was that about?

Everything was going well. Except for one thing. I was in love with a guy who liked guys. A guy who feared dating guys because he was such a big-shot college football player. Bobby told me he had a few discreet sexual encounters with some young men during the summer after our high school graduation. He hadn't been with anyone since then. As for me, I was still stuck on him. My love for Bobby was unending. The guy I loved told me he loved me back. He just wasn't in love with me. Side effect of being queer and all. I felt like Grace from Will & Grace or Chloe Sullivan from Smallville. In love with a great man who was charming, a great human being, a loyal friend, and completely unavailable. And things didn't look like they would ever change. Until that one night.

Bobby and I were hanging out in my dorm. Watching Sci-Fi Saturday. The usual stuff, you know. Some movie about a rampaging monster going after some twenty-something people in a small town. I was really into watching the monster tearing blonde chicks apart after dismembering their boyfriends before getting slain by the stalwart hero and the action chick he hung out with. Bobby seemed a thousand miles away. So I asked him what was wrong. He didn't want to talk, but I dragged it out of him. Finally, he relented and told me everything. Just like I knew he would. Bobby told me he came out to his mother, and she didn't take it too well. Now both of his parents were furious with him.

Bobby told me how he'd stormed out of his folks house as each accused the other of turning their only son gay. He had a haunted look on his face. I wrapped my arms around him, and held him. He told me he thought his life was going to hell. He was under too much pressure and had no one to turn to. And with the media scrutinizing his every move, he simply couldn't be himself. I took Bobby's face in my hands, and told him he could be himself around me. Bobby looked at me and smiled. Then he did the last thing I'd ever expect. He kissed me. I swear, I'm not making this up. A bit surprised, I nevertheless kissed him back. When our lips parted, I asked Bobby what he was doing. Smiling, he told me he wanted me. Then he kissed me again. This time, I kissed him back with all of my passion. Passion borne out of four years of watching, waiting, praying and hoping. I kissed him like I was on death row about to be executed.

And that's how Bobby and I made love for the first time. I remember it like it was yesterday. Every feverish kiss. My hands roaming all over his fine, toned body. My hands cupping his buttocks, and playing with his chest hairs. His lips hungrily kissing mine. My hands wandering purposefully to his groin and grasping his member. His long and thick, uncircumcised rod of manliness. Yeah, my Bobby was all man. I remember his lips finding my breasts, and sucking on the areolas as I threw my head back and moaned under his touch. He was new to this, so I was his guide. I showed him how it's done. I took his member, and placed it against my womanhood. Then I thrust myself onto him, until he was inside of me. I remember the shocked expression in his eyes. The sigh which escaped his lips. His arms fiercely grabbing me, and my legs locking around him. I wanted him deep inside of me, and I would take no prisoners. And so I climbed on top of him, and rode him like a cowgirl on a bull. Lord, how I remember his screams. And the sweet expression on his face as he came inside of me. Yeah, if I live to one hundred years old, I'll never forget that night.

The next morning proved to be awkward. For a man who drilled me like a porn star the night before, Bobby was really ill at ease. He thought what we did in my bed endangered our friendship. He didn't want to lose the only woman in his life whom he felt he could trust. And so I assured him he wouldn't. I told him I understood he liked men, and I was okay with that. However, if he ever felt he needed to be a woman, he'd come to me and no other. Bobby looked at me, and assured he could live with that. Then he kissed me, and went to the shower. I almost came when I saw his tight-looking buns as he went inside. Hot damn. I needed some more of that, seriously.

And that's how it went from that moment on, folks. Bobby and I shared many more passionate nights together. It got to the point that I put myself on the pill. And we started buying rubbers by the barrel. Bobby had never been with a woman before. He found the experience fun, and definitely worth repeating. And I couldn't be happier. Of course, inevitably, he would meet some guy he desperately wanted to hook up with. And half the guys on campus wanted to do him. I was okay with his male liaisons as long as he was discreet. And I made him swear to always use condoms. He's a guy, so he's got to do his thing. In the end, he always came home to me. We're a couple, you see. An unorthodox one, for sure, but a couple anyway. And I'm always by his side. On the gridiron. In the bedroom. In class. Together forever, that's us. We're the First Couple of college football. And I wouldn't have it any other way.