"Go back to sleep, babe, I've got this," I whispered to my wife Amal as I got up, and went to check on our son, Little Omar. Lying in his crib, in his small bedroom, ten and a half meters from our own bedroom, little Omar is awake in the middle of the night and crying, which is not an unusual occurrence. I take my son into my arms and smile at him, rocking him gently. Moments later he's back to sleep. I return to the master bedroom.
Lying next to me is my wife of two years, Amal Kumar-Etienne, I feel at peace. Gently I kiss her forehead, and Amal snorts in her sleep, and snores loudly. She's so beautiful when she sleeps. Of course, Amal is lovely while awake as well. Amal farted in her sleep and I snickered. Hey, it's natural, alright? I am a lucky man to have such a wonderful woman as my wife and the mother of our son. Seriously, I thank Heaven for these blessings.
I roll over on my side, a bit sore. Earlier, Amal and I made passionate love. Always a great stress reliever, let me tell you. Tonight, Amal came to me, and I sensed much unrest in her. Gently I pulled her into my arms and we embraced passionately. The feel of her supple, curvy body against mine never ceases to thrill me. I love my woman and can never take her for granted. I cherish my sweet Amal.
"Make love to me Octavius," Amal whispered, her voice filled with need. I smiled and kissed her, for I didn't need to be told twice. Gently I caressed Amal's soft, firm breasts and she sighed happily as I sucked on them. Kissing a path from her breasts to her slightly rounded belly, I kissed her stretch marks, for to me they made her beautifully human. The woman I love and mother of my son, my living treasure.
"So beautiful," I said quietly, and looked up into Amal's eyes, which shone in our darkened bedroom. Gently I spread her thighs, and began pleasuring her womanhood with my mouth, tongue and fingers. A sharp cry escaped Amal's lips as I licked her pussy, teasing her clitoris with my tongue while fingering her. I know what she likes, and I always give it to her.
"Don't you dare stop!" Amal hisses, and I smile before continuing. No two women smell or taste the same down below, and I for one absolutely love the way my wife smells and tastes. I continue to lick her until the floodgates open, so to speak. Amal cries out in pleasure, and I hold her until her pleasurable spasms subside. It's a miracle that our neighbors haven't filed a noise complaint by now. Amal and I are, ahem, loud, and we're renting a three-bedroom apartment in a residential area of Nepean, Ontario.
"That was fun," Amal says, smiling, and then she rolls on top of me. My already-hard manhood enters her swiftly, and I hear Amal's happy sigh as I wrap my arms around her. We begin making love, and I thrust into her, swift and deep. I slap Amal's ass as we fuck, and she laughs and playfully bites my ear. A few moments later I cum, exploding within her. Amal exhales. We exchange a kiss, and Amal rolls off of me.
Amal rests her head on my chest, and moments later, my wife resumes her thunderous snoring. She came home super stressed last night. As the assistant manager of a local branch of TD Canada Trust, my boo has a lot on her plate. After graduating from Carleton University's accounting program, Amal began working at the bank, and quickly distinguished herself due to her stellar service and work ethic.
Me? I'm a division manager at TELUS Mobility. It's a post I only obtained recently, come to think of it. I'm that guy at the mall who stops you, smiles at you a bit too much and generally goes about bugging you until you buy a phone plan. Not what I dreamed of doing when I was a dreamy-eyed University student but I have a wife and son to take care of. Welcome to my life.
Hard to believe that if you told me a couple of years ago that I would have embraced Islam and married a lovely Guyanese Indian Muslim woman, I would have laughed. For starters, I have never considered myself the marrying type. Seriously, when it comes to the longevity of my relationships, six months was my personal best until I met Amal. Now, how I met my future wife is a funny story...
Alright, picture this, if you will. I'm sitting in the Carleton University campus library, and there's this cute Indian-looking ( red dot, not feather, work with me here ) chick sitting in the same row at me. Day after day I see her sitting there, typing away on a computer, doing all kinds of mathematical stuff. Me? I suck at math and stopped taking it after high school. The question is, how do I get at her?
The name is Octavius Isaac Etienne, and I'm a big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Nepean, Ontario. I'm in the Applied Business program at Carleton University. Like a lot of brothers out there, I find South Asian ladies simply beautiful. Of course, few brothers ever get with these uniquely lovely ladies. There's many reasons for that, not the least of which is racism, along with cultural differences. Me? I don't let anything stop me and always go for what I want.
I've often been called "socially awkward" or "diplomatically challenged" because of my bluntness. Folks, I'm not trying to be mean or rude but that's just how I roll. There's too much bullshit and pussyfooting in this world. I feel this world would be a much better place if we were more honest with each other. Don't you agree?
Of course, in a world full of liars, hypocrites and fake people, being real doesn't win you points with people. The good folks at a predominantly Haitian church which I attended for most of my life in downtown Ottawa certainly didn't appreciate my lively ways, wicked sense of humor and keen mind. That's why I stopped attending. Can't go where you're not wanted, you know?
