Somali Queen In Ottawa Ch 08

Everyone has secrets, anxieties and insecurities, and I am definitely no exception, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Yasmin Hussein, and I'm a Somali-Canadian Muslim woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I stand five-foot-ten, curvy and sexy, a fine exemplar of the beautiful Northeast African/Horn of Africa woman. Beauties like me are found in nations like Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia and Djibouti, but I am nevertheless one of a kind. Everyone who comes in contact with me knows it. The few who don't, well, I try to enlighten them as best I can.

I study accounting at Algonquin College and I'm close to completing my program. These days, life just couldn't be better. My new boyfriend Steve Salomon, a big and tall Haitian guy I met at work, simply worships the ground I walk on. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm a Muslim woman of Somali descent and I'm absolutely crazy for this sinfully sexy Haitian guy who was raised in the Christian faith. Whoever says opposites attract must have been talking about us.

I know that my darling Steve Salomon loves me and I love him dearly, but I worry sometimes that I might be pushing my favorite Haitian stud to his limits. The other day, I went to visit him at his school, Carleton University, where he's studying business management, and brought him some Shawarma I bought at the Shawarma King restaurant downtown. I went to the campus library's quiet third floor, his favorite spot, with the intent of surprising him. I'm the one who ended up getting surprised.

You see, I found Steve sitting awfully close to a blonde-haired, green-eyed fat white chick who was grinning at him. The fat bitch looked at my Steve the way a hungry orca looks at a wayward seal. Instantly I felt angry, and approached the two of them with a frosty smile. Hello Steve, I said evenly by way of greeting. Steve nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing my voice. Dude looked at me with a look of such guilt on his handsome face that I had to resist the urge to smack the shit out of him.

The white chick and I exchanged a look, and the plump white bitch wisely remained silent. Steve Salomon smiled at me sheepishly and expressed his surprise at seeing me there. Carleton University is a long way from Algonquin College, where I'm taking my four final courses. I hopped on the 111 bus at Baseline Station and rode it for half an hour, all the way to the Carleton campus. Long ride but my man is worth it, that's what I told myself at least.

Once I arrived at the bus stop near Minto Center, I walked my ass to the University Center building, and cut through the throngs of students walking in the Atrium. Finally, I made my way to the garden-like quad, and reached the campus library. As I walked through Carleton, a lot of people looked at me. This school is one of the most racially diverse institutions of higher education in all of Canada but as a tall, gorgeous young woman of Somali descent, clad in a long traditional dress and Hijab, I definitely stood out. People checked me out. Nerdy Chinese guys, lusty white dudes, demure Indian dudes, envious white chicks, territorial Jamaican chicks, and so on.

Yeah, wherever I go, everyone wants a piece of me. The tall, angel-faced, curvaceous Afro-Arabian beauty with the fine body, large breasts and thick, round ass. Hell, sometimes even lesbians hit on me. Especially those short-haired, masculine white chicks with the tattoos and the fake swagger. I like receiving attention from both women and men, even though I consider myself totally heterosexual. I only have eyes for Steve Salomon, though. What can I say? The big and tall Haitian stud holds my heart hostage and I don't want be free. At least, until I saw him laughing with that blonde hussy.

What is it with black guys and fat white chicks, seriously? Someone should do a study on that. Everywhere I look I see black men with fat white chicks. Are black guys allergic to slender white women? I'm not hating on interracial couples. Honest. I was sad when Seal and Heidi Klum split. I'm still pulling for Kanye West and Kim Kardashian no matter what anyone says. And I have much love for Robert DeNiro and Grace Hightower. I've dated white guys in the past. They were alright, but nothing sets my blood afire or makes my heart race like a tall, sexy black man. That's my one weakness, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyhow, back to the story. Steve Salomon started mumbling, and with much bluster on his face and guilt on his eyes, he introduced me to his classmate, Beatrice Kendall. I looked the fat white bitch up and down. What the fuck was she doing with my man? I am NOT the type of black woman who will simply stand idly by and let a white whale steal my chocolate prince. A lot of black guys who aren't into black women anymore say that these black females they dealt with in the past were bossy, greedy, didn't take care of themselves, and didn't let them be the man in the relationship. Well, I am not like those bitches. I love and support my Steve, and as a Muslim woman from Somalia, I firmly believe that the man is the head of household. Oh, and I am good in bed. I don't mind spending money on Steve once in a while. We're equals that way. I believe in give and take. That's just how I roll.

Beatrice Kendall looked at me, and smiled, and I resisted the urge to smack the fat white bitch on her mouth. I smiled back and asked her what's up, and she showed me a picture on her iPhone wallpaper. A picture of her locking lips with a short-haired black chick who vaguely looked Somali. Showing all of her teeth, Beatrice grinned and told me that I reminded her of Fatoumatta, this lesbian Muslim chick she's dating. I looked at the picture and shook my head, then laughed. Yup, Fatoumatta did look a little bit like me. If I got hit by the ugly stick a few times and got rid of my long and lustrous black hair, which I would never do.

I looked at Beatrice, then Steve. So, the white chick is gay, huh? Damn. I suddenly feel so silly for my jealous fit. I happily shook Beatrice's hand and handed Steve the food I brought for him. The three of us sat there and talked, laughing, until Beatrice excused herself because she had to get to work. Nice to meet you, I said and shook Beatrice's hand again before she left. Steve looked at me and grinned wickedly. I smiled sheepishly at my man. Open mouth and insert foot, I thought. Looks like I dropped the ball tonight, folks.

When we got home, I tried to make up to Steve but my boo just continued to sulk while ignoring me. Even when I stripped naked ( save for my Hijab ) and reached for his dick, Steve just batted my hands away. I was shocked. The sight of my naked body usually mesmerizes Steve. I 'accidentally' dropped something and bent down to pick up in the living room while Steve was watching TV, exposing my naked booty. And you know what? Steve didn't even blink. Dude just told me to move out of the way and continued watching an old episode of Blade The Series on Netflix. What the fuck? As a woman this disturbed me. Must be losing my touch.

Imagine my surprise when, as I sat on the toilet, taking a piss, Steve walked in on me, wearing only his boxers and looking rather angry. Get up, he said, and grabbed me by the throat until I complied. I had never seen Steve Salomon this aggressive before. It kind of surprised me and turned me on at the same time. Nodding, I rose to my feet, my cunt still dripping piss, and I eagerly reached for Steve's manhood. Steve once more batted my hands away. Grabbing me, he bent me over the washroom counter. I licked my lips, expecting to feel Steve's thick Haitian dick sliding into my cunt or asshole any minute. Instead, I felt Steve's hand slap my ass. Hard.

What the fuck? I turned and stared at Steve, stunned. A feral grin on his handsome face, Steve continued pressing me down on the washroom counter as he smacked my ass. Twice, three times, Steve slapped my thick Somali ass. I yelped in pain and tried to flee but Steve held me into place, holding me by the back of my neck as he rained heavy slaps on my bottom. Truth be told, it stung real bad when Steve slapped my ass but it also felt kind of good. Grinning, I winked at Steve and told him to keep smacking my ass.

Shaking his head, Steve grunted, and called me something I won't print here and thusly my favorite Haitian continued raining slaps on my big brown Somali ass. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, Steve changed tactics and thrust two fingers into my cunt. Whether my pussy was wet because I was turned on or because I just peed, I couldn't tell you. All I can say is that Steve fingered my cunt with one hand and slapped my ass with the other. The combination proved really erotic and I found myself close to squealing, for I was about to cum. The mixture of pleasure and pain proved too much for me, I guess.

Without warning, Steve pulled his fingers out of my cunt, and pried my thick ass cheeks wide open. I felt something cold and slick being applied against my asshole. I turned and saw that Steve was using Colgate as a lubricant, and laughed. At least my ass will smell fresh after, I said with a grin. Steve said nothing and pushed his dick up my asshole. I licked my lips, expecting him to put those big, strong hands of his on my wide hips as he fucked me in the ass. Nope, Steve did no such thing. Instead, he grabbed my hands and held them behind my back, and used his hips to buck against me while running his dick up my asshole. Unexpected, but I absolutely loved it!

My asshole gripped Steve's dick tightly, and it didn't take my favorite Haitian long to cum in my ass, even though he tried to resist me. Steve came inside of me, and, um, that's when something unusual happened. As Steve slowly pulled his dick out of my asshole, I let out a loud, wet fart. For those of you laughing at me while reading this, shame on you. Have you ever tried to hold a fart while getting fucked in the ass, ladies? I doubt it would work. Fortunately, Steve just laughed it off. Afterwards, my sexy man pulled me on the washroom counter, spread my shapely thighs and gave my hairy Somali cunt a good licking. Yup, we had a lot of fun.

Much later, Steve and I lay in bed, happy as can be. You're forgiven, he whispered into my ear as he pulled me into his arms. I smiled with contentment and tried to go to sleep, not an easy endeavor, with Steve's dick inches from my cunt. Still, I had a long day at school tomorrow so I needed my sleep. It's midterm season at Algonquin College and this Somali-Canadian cutie intends to ace her accounting courses. That's right. I, Yasmin Hussein, am not just a pretty face. I'm plenty smart too. Anyhow, good night. See you around the universe, Insha'Allah.