One of the problems in Islam is Muslim women. Frankly, they’re too damn submissive, and as a Muslim man, I can’t stand that type of behavior in a woman. That’s why I married a bossy Muslim woman. Let me tell you how we met. My name is Ali Mustapha and I’m a black man of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the City of Cornwall, to a Somali immigrant father and white Canadian mother. My parents, Yousef Mustapha and Kathleen Saint-James have long since gone their separate ways. I remain a son of two worlds, of Canada whose history is an open book and of Somalia, whose past is shrouded in mystery.
I moved to Ottawa in 2011, after graduating from Saint Lawrence College in Cornwall with a diploma in Police Foundations. I applied to Carleton University and got accepted into the Criminology program. Originally I wanted to be a cop but after a nasty encounter with the Ontario Provincial Police on the 417 Highway, I realized that all cops are racist dicks and I cannot in good conscience work with or for such people. Nor am I willing to be the lone voice for justice and progress in a prejudiced organization. I want to be a lawyer instead. One that specializes in suing the lads in blue for misconduct.
Ottawa is a boring town, but it’s leaps and bounds ahead of Cornwall in terms of racial diversity. I was one of maybe ten to fifteen black students at my old college. I got the heck out of dodge as soon as I could. In Ottawa I ran into so many people from distant places. Arabs, Somalis, Turks, Chinese, Hindus and others. In Cornwall, we have lots of white folks and a few Natives. Not a lot of Africans, Arabs or other races. Cornwall represents what Canada was like back in the old days, Natives and whites living on the same land and disliking each other immensely.
To me, even though Ottawa is full of bigots, especially among government workers and academics, I think it’s changing for the better due to the increasing number of visible minorities who make it their home. The growing population of Arabs, Somalis, Haitians, Chinese, Hindus, and Hispanics in Ottawa are changing the town’s demographics rapidly, and it’s a wonderful thing to behold. When I arrived here, I sought out the Somalis, my father’s people. My father is Muslim and a devout one at that. We communicate via Skype nowadays because he lives in the City of Calgary, Alberta, with his new wife Yasmin, and my half-sister Mona. I don’t know much about Islam because I grew up in a secular household. My mother is a lapsed Catholic flirting with atheism and I’ve always found religion to be more trouble than it’s worth.
In Ottawa, surrounded by Muslims of all colors, I began to realize that I needed to reconnect with my heritage. Somalis are Muslim for the most part and it affects every aspect of our culture. I met a guy named Rashid at Carleton and he and I became friends. We’d read the Koran together and discuss it. The more I learned about the Prophet Muhammad and the Koran, the more fascinated I became. That’s why, six months after I met Rashid, I accepted Islam. My father was overjoyed when I shared the news with him. I promised to visit him next time I was off from school. Perhaps over the summer.
I was off to a good start in Ottawa, I guess. My studies were going pretty good, and I even got myself a job working security at a building downtown. Yeah, things were going pretty good. The only snag is that I didn’t have a girlfriend. Seriously, man, it bugged me because I was twenty one years old and still a damn virgin. Rashid used to tease me about it, how in hell he guessed that shit I’ll never know. I must have had it written on my forehead or something. Whatever.
I’m not exactly a hit with the ladies at Carleton University, to tell you the truth. Kind of puzzles me because I’m not a bad-looking man. I’m six-foot-one, lean and athletic, with light brown skin, curly black hair and light brown eyes. I’ve always been a solitary guy, it stems from my days in Cornwall. Seriously, why did my father leave me behind in that all-white town after divorcing my mother? Cornwall is no place to be if you’re black or brown, that’s for damn sure. I learned to keep to myself because I got teased and bullied in that racist small town.
Eventually I learned to fight back and stand up for myself, but the damage was already done. I am ashamed to say that there was a time I wished I were totally white instead of mixed. I no longer feels this way, though. In Ottawa, surrounded by black folks from a thousand nations and cultures, I learned to love myself. I am the son of a black father and white mother, and I okay with who I am. I am the way Allah made me. There’s nothing wrong with me. I am as I was born to be. What a difference environment can make in a guy’s life, eh?
One day, I went to a Muslim community event with Rashid, and he introduced me to his friend Farina Abdullah, a beautiful young woman of Arab and Jamaican descent. Farina was born in Kingston, Ontario, to a Lebanese-born Canadian father and Jamaican immigrant mother. The gal was tall, easily five-foot-ten or more, curvy and sexy, with dark bronze skin, curly black hair and lime-green eyes. The first time I saw her, she took my breath away. It’s not often I saw a gorgeous mixed chick with an angelic face, statuesque body and spectacular heart-shaped ass, you know?
Well, as it turns out, Farina Abdullah and I were birds of a feather. The gal pursued me doggedly, and I must say, I didn’t put up much of a fight. Farina has a reputation for being a hothead, and a fast one, and while many young Muslim men at our mosque were turned off by her westernized style of dress and feministic mindset, I found her captivating. And I didn’t hide it. That’s why I got the nerve to ask her out. Well, Farina surprised me by saying yes. For our first date, I took her to the Silver City movie theater in the east end, then we grabbed a bite at a nearby Chinese restaurant.
I was fascinated by the lovely Miss Farina Abdullah, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. As we ate lunch together, I got to know her a bit better. Farina is in her second year in the business administration program at Algonquin College. Sweet, the gal has good looks and ambition. I like that! For hours on end we chatted, discussing our lives, schools, and interests. As we said goodbye for the evening and exchanged a hug, Farina winked at me. I watched her walk away, mesmerized by that ass of hers. Damn, I definitely wanted to see her again.
When I got home, I called Rashid and told him about our date. My best buddy told me to play it cool and not act too “thirsty”. I heeded his advice, and it worked, for Farina and I began seeing each other regularly. We became practically inseparable, walking all over Ottawa, going to movie theaters, museums and restaurants. We also attended Muslim community events together. What can I say? I was really into her. And I didn’t care who knew it. I must say, whenever I kissed Farina or held hands with her, I felt like I was on top of the world.
We’d been seeing each other for four months, and although we hadn’t gone further than kissing and fondling each other, I was happy in my relationship with Farina Abdullah. Whenever she visited me at Carleton, I was the envy of my friends as we held hands and kissed. Trust me, I was horny as can be and desired Farina strongly but I didn’t want to push her too far too fast and risk losing her. It’s all in the approach, after all. Women are the ones who choose when they’ll have sex and with whom. All us fellas can do is make our moves and keep our fingers crossed, you know?
The night it finally happened, Farina and I were coming back from a Reggae concert in Hog’s Back Park, and she was giving me a ride home. Honestly, sex couldn’t be further from my mind. When Farina asked me if she could come up for a drink, I honestly thought she was thirsty. I fixed her a drink, then went to the living room to see what’s on TV. I’m a big fan of Supernatural and had missed last week’s episode. Imagine my surprise when Farina strutted out of the kitchen and into the living room, minus her T-shirt and miniskirt. Oh my, I said, and Farina smiled at me.
Next thing I know, Farina was kissing me passionately and even though I was new to all this, I wanted her quite badly. I embraced her, and my hands roamed all over her sexy body. You’re a virgin, Farina said, locking eyes with me. I smiled nervously. Sort of, I said, knowing exactly how it sounded. Farina shook her head, smiled and then patted my aching manhood. Me too, she whispered into my ear. That surprised me, since I figured a hot chick like her would have done it a long time ago. As if reading my mind, Farina grabbed my face. I don’t share myself with anyone and you’re the one I want, she said, then she kissed me. I kissed her back with all the passion I could muster, and then we made love.
Slowly, Farina and I undressed each other, and my eyes marveled at her beauty. Tentatively I reached for her breasts, and with her encouragement, I caressed and later sucked on them. Go slow, Farina whispered, and I fastened my lips to her nipples, loving the taste and feel of them on my tongue. Farina lay on the living room carpet, gorgeously naked and spread-eagled. I kissed her lips, her breasts and finally made my way to her pussy. Once there, I hesitated.
I’d seen guys go down on women in porn videos but I wasn’t sure what to do. Lick me, Farina said, and I began lapping away at her pussy like a cat finding a bowl of butter. I licked and probed my sweetie with my tongue and fingers, following her instructions to the letter. Yes I’m a novice to such things but I’m a quick study. Lo and behold, Farina cried out in pleasure, shouting my name and shuddering all over. My sweet lady was in paradise and I brought her there. Marvelous.
You’re good, Farina said later, her eyes wide with surprise. I smiled and shrugged. Farina and I kissed again, and she grabbed my manhood. I want you inside of me, she whispered into my ear. This was it, the moment of truth. Hold on a sec, I said, and went to fetch a condom. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one. I honestly never thought I’d get laid anytime soon so I didn’t keep condoms at the house. I returned to Farina, sad-faced, and cursing myself for my foolishness. Farina looked at me and smiled. Lucky for us I got one, she said, reaching for her purse.
I thanked my lucky stars as Farina rolled the condom on my hard dick, stroked me, and then told me to get ready. Yes ma’am, I said, grinning. Farina climbed on top of me, and slowly lowered herself onto my member. I put my hands on Farina’s hips as she lovingly wrapped her arms around my neck. I thrust upward, and my erect manhood slid into her pussy. And just like that we’re no longer virgins, Farina whispered into my ear. I looked up at her, a fierce joy filling my heart. Amen to that, I shouted, and slammed my dick into her. Grabbing my face, hard, Farina stared into my eyes. Give it to me my love, she pleaded. Who was I to disobey such a fervent request?
Passionately, Farina and I made love, exploring one another, and tasting each other. Somehow we went from the living room to the kitchen counter, where Farina told me to bend her over, pull her hair and spank her. I did just that, while sliding my dick into her from behind. The sight of her big bronze butt shaking under the force of my thrusts totally turned me on. Give it to me babe, Farina shouted, and I rammed into her with all the force I could muster. We went at it until we borderline passed out on the kitchen floor, exhausted, abased but more alive than ever before.
The next morning, I awoke next to Farina Abdullah, and we ended up spending the day together. We ate breakfast together, shared my shower and then went to school. Farina and I sat together in my Criminal Law class even though she doesn’t even go to Carleton, and the prof didn’t mind. Everybody could see that we were happy and in love. And that’s how it began, ladies and gentlemen. The romance that changed my life. Unlike ninety nine percent of people out there, I got it right the first time. Farina Abdullah and I were destined to be together. I thank Allah for His blessings. Ameen.