Mobile Buttplug Videos
Tired man meets sexy denizen of young growth forest.
I must admit that when I first met Jefferson Manheim, he was not what I expected. I expected a pimply-faced frat dude, and was surprised to meet instead a tall, dark and handsome gentleman in a stylish business suit. Emphasis on the dark and handsome part. With his lime-green eyes, curly black hair and golden brown skin, Jefferson Manheim was masculine beauty with an exotic edge personified. I would later learn that he was an international student at the University of Ottawa, having transferred there from Boston University. Yeah, Jefferson Manheim was an American. How about that?
We met at a little bistro near campus, and exchanged ideas over coffee and bagels. Jefferson lamented the fate of the school's hockey club but admitted that male perpetrators of sexual assault should be punished. As a Feminist, I found it refreshing to hear that from such a distinguished and intelligent young man. During our meeting, I was pleasantly surprised by Jefferson Manheim's articulation and commented on it. For a long moment, Jefferson fell silent. I asked him what was wrong. Jefferson sighed and told me that people, especially in Ottawa, called him articulate because he was a well-spoken black man. Something he found seriously offensive.
Upon realizing that I had inadvertently offended Jefferson Manheim, I apologized profusely. Jefferson nodded, smiled and told me I was forgiven. I smiled at him, and noticed how handsome he was. I wondered if he might be mulatto, and asked him about it. Jefferson shook his head, and told me that his father, Roger Manheim, was African-American, while his mother, Rachel O'Hara, was Irish. Oh, and he was offended by the term mulatto, which he considered outdated. Jefferson looked me in the eye and told me that he preferred to be called biracial, a more culturally accepted term in modern times.
Wow, open mouth and insert foot, eh? Twice in a few minutes I'd offended Jefferson Manheim without meaning to. Cordially Jefferson accepted my apology, then told me that quite often, men offend women purely by mistake, without any malice involved, much as I'd offended him twice during our conversation. I had never thought of that. This really puts things into perspective. I thanked Jefferson for this, and he smiled and nodded gracefully. After this first meeting, Jefferson wished me a good day, and right before he left, I gave him my card. Just in case he wanted to discuss anything, I was quick to point out. Jefferson nodded, and pocketed the card. Like the gentleman he was, Jefferson Manheim walked me to my car, and then walked away.
I sat at the wheel, pensive. As a Feminist, I found it sexist that Jefferson felt the need to walk me to my car. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself. As a woman, I felt thrilled by his sheer masculine presence. Did I mention the brother had a seriously sexy ass? He looked real good in a suit. My lusty thoughts surprised me. Here I was, checking Jefferson out like a piece of meat, exactly the sort of thing my Feminist sisters and I often accused men of doing. Can I be a woman and sexist? Apparently so.
I went home that night, and as I lay on my bed after doing homework, I thought of Jefferson Manheim. I seriously wanted to know more about him. So I crept him on Facebook. The gorgeous African-American stud once played rugby for Boston University. Interesting. His Facebook profile was fairly simple, just pictures of him with friends and family. No pictures of him with girls. Intriguing, but good to know, I thought to myself.
I checked out pictures of Jefferson Manheim shirtless, and felt a heat begin between my legs.