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I imagine that some clever soul came up with the saying that men think with their dicks a huge percentage of the time and as much as I hate to admit it, they were right. I mean, here I am, in the basement of a certain university library in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, fucking the hell out of the hijab-wearing Somali cleaning lady. Damn, the things a man does in the name of lust, eh? In case you’re wondering who this is, the name is David Jacques Lemieux. Friends call me D.J. for short. I’m a Haitian guy with a big fascination for all things Somali, with the exception of their strict religion. I’m as liberal and secular as can be, so Islam doesn’t work for me but I’ll talk the talk and pretend to walk the walk if it means getting some Somali pussy.

I have seen this Somali cleaning gal around the school so many times. The other students usually ignored her like they ignore all staff people, but not me. I was always polite and friendly to the pretty, thirty-something Somali cleaning lady with the nice smile and big booty. Her name was Halima Muhammad. A lot of people look down on those who do menial jobs. Me? I’m not a rich brat like so many of the students at this university. I’m on scholarship, and I work as a security guard on weekends to make some money. I know what it’s like to work hard. That’s why I’ve got much respect for folks who work for a living, no matter their occupation.

Now, the university I attend is quite diverse. Lots of students from places like Brazil, France, Germany, South Africa, Cuba, Haiti, Yemen, Colombia, Somalia, Lebanon, Jamaica, Mexico and other places. I’d say that about half the student is of non-Caucasian origin. Pretty good for a Canadian school, eh? Anyhow, ever since I moved to the capital region of Canada from my homeland of Haiti, I’ve been fascinated by Somali women, especially the ones who dress conservatively. I get a boner when I see a big-booty Somali chick wearing a hijab. I’ve even become hooked on internet porn featuring hijab-wearing chicks of various ethnicities engaging in sexual activities with guys and girls. Kind of extreme, I know, but what’s a guy to do? I can’t help what turns me on any more than you can!

The Somali chicks in Ottawa, Ontario, tend to stick to guys from their community, and the few times that I’ve seen Somali women with non-Somali males, they were with Arab guys or white males. What’s a Haitian man to do when he’s dying to get some Somali pussy? I was sitting in the second floor of the university library, browsing through WebCT and trying to do this paper for my law class. It’s worth twenty percent of my grade, and it was due Friday. Monday night and I’ve only done two out of the eight pages required, and I’m still goofing off on Facebook while listening to music on YouTube. I swear, the library is the easiest place to get distracted when you’re in university. I could probably get more work done in the university food court than up here, man.

Anyhow, I was sitting there, procrastinating like only a brother can, and that’s when I got this call from this chick named Stacey Etienne, whom I used to know back home. Stacey and I were both lucky enough to win international scholarships to study abroad after the 2010 Haiti earthquake. She found herself at a university in Paris, France, and I ended up at a big school in Ottawa, Ontario. Just a couple of Haitians pursuing higher education escort bostancı outside of our beloved Republic of Haiti. Stacey and I were boyfriend and girlfriend at a certain Catholic institution back in northern Haiti, and we remained close even after our relationship ended. The two of us really got into it over the phone that day. It was around eight in the evening when I got the call from Stacey, she was all the way in Paris, and called my ass in Ottawa. We talked for hours, catching up and stuff. Before I knew it, it was ten. The thing is that the school library closes at nine, and I ended up all by myself in a stairwell, long after closing time.

I tried to exit, but something was preventing me from leaving the building. The mag locks on the automatic doors of the library wouldn’t let me push the doors often. Damn, I was trapped! I thought about calling the university campus security team but my phone was dead. I used up all of my juice talking to Stacey Etienne on the phone. My phone bill with FIDO was going to be huge for that month due to the international call, but Stacey matters to me so I told myself it was all worth it. Some women just have that effect on a man, you know? Anyhow, in my quest to find a way out of the damn library after closing time, I wandered down many a dark corridor in the basement. Now, the basement of the university library is an area rarely seen by students. Cleaners, contractors and cafeteria crew, along with whatever engineers designed the place, that’s who knows the basement system. I had been at the university for a year and a half and I thought I knew it but found myself lost in the basement.

Finally, I wandered down a hallway where I heard some noise. I headed toward the noise, figuring that whoever was in that room would know a way out of the building. I live far from campus, and it usually takes me two buses to get home. So I needed to get the fuck out and quick. I knocked on the door of the room the noise was coming from, and nobody answered. I could see a dim light inside, though. I gave the door a strong push…and what I saw inside amazed me. Lying on a table with her long traditional skirt hiked up, her panties down, and a vibrator jabbed deep inside her pussy was none other than the hijab-wearing Somali cleaning lady, Halima Muhammad. Nothing could have prepared me for this, though.

Halima Muhammad lay there, fucking her pussy with the loudly buzzing vibrator, unaware of my presence. I loudly cleared my throat, and she jumped up as if she had seen a snake. I held my hands up, and looked away. Halima shrieked, and pulled her skirt back up, then she asked me what I was doing here. Still looking away, I told her that I had lost track of time while talking to a friend on the phone in the stairwells at the back of the university library, and I just wanted a way out. Halima glared at me, and I saw suspicion in her eyes. In a cold voice, this normally pleasant lady told me that if I repeated what I saw to anyone, for any reason, she’d tell the police I came after her. When she said the word police, I panicked. Ottawa police are racist as fuck, man. They beat up anyone around here, not just minorities but also women prisoners in the cell blocks. I do not want to be their cross hairs.

That’s why I got down on my knees, and told Halima Muhammad that I would do anything she asked of me if ümraniye escort she showed me a way out of the university library basement, and let me go home in peace. Halima looked at me kneeling and smiled cruelly, then she told me I looked good while begging. I smiled sheepishly. Halima smiled coyly and walked up to me. I stared at her, dumbfounded. What did she want? Halima told me that since I was already on my knees, I might as well make myself useful. Then she hiked up her skirt, showing me her hairy black pussy. In spite of the precarious situation I found myself in, my dick hardened, and Halima Muhammad could tell that I was aroused. I brought my face closer to her pussy, and began licking as if my life and my freedom depended on it. Simply because, well, they did depend on it!

Halima Muhammad sat on the desk, legs spread as I licked her pussy while kneeling before her. Hmmm. Her pussy tasted really good, and smelled hot and spicy. A lot of women wear vaginal deodorant. I don’t care because I like the way a woman’s pussy smells and tastes. Halima moaned as I went down on her. Next, she stroked my cock to full hardness, then sucked on it a bit. Hmmm. The sight of this hijab-wearing Somali lady with her tits hanging out of her shirt and her dress lying at her ankles as she knelt before me and sucked my dick turned me on so much that I almost came. Shoot. Something about a chick with a hijab on sucking cock turns me on. I don’t know why, to tell you the truth.

Halima Muhammad finished sucking me off, then we got our freak on. Luckily I had a condom in my wallet. I rolled it on my cock, then bent my sexy Somali cleaning lady over the desk. I admired her big sexy ass. Damn it, Somali gals got nice butts! I slid my cock into her pussy from behind, holding firmly onto her hips as I began fucking her. Hard and fast I pumped my cock into Halima’s cunt, loving the feel of her pussy around my dick. Our screams of passion filled the dark and deserted university library basement. We fucked like we were the only people on earth, and for our purposes, that suited us just fine. I don’t know how long Halima and I fucked, but it absolutely rocked.

Afterwards, we just held each other. I looked at this wild, freaky and sexy Somali woman. In that moment, I didn’t care that she was over thirty and that my ass was barely twenty three. I just saw a beautiful, sensual and amazing woman. I told her this, and kissed her on the forehead. Halima grinned at me, then readjusted her clothes. I did the same. She walked me out of the university library basement, and I found myself in the quad. I used the tunnel system to emerge out of the university center, and caught the last bus heading out of the school. I didn’t know it then but this evening was about to change my life. The next time I saw Halima, she just smiled at me like she normally did. I thought about saying something but thought better of it. We live in different worlds. I was raised Catholic but I lead a secular lifestyle. She’s a freaky and very sexual lady but she’s still Muslim. Yeah, we couldn’t work out.

That’s what I told myself, the excuses I made, until something happened. A big Arab guy came out of the men’s washroom and he bumped into her. Hard. To the point that she staggered. The guy didn’t even excuse himself. Something inside of me just…snapped. I rushed over to Halima, and asked kartal escort bayan her if she was okay. She winced in pain and told me she was fine. I took her arm and helped her steady herself to her feet. Students walking by stared because, well, cleaning personnel and students don’t usually interact like that. Also, I excused myself from Halima to go confront the Arab dude. I told him that if I ever saw him shove a black woman like that again, I’d beat his ass so hard his ancestors in the desert would feel it. When he stared at me blankly, I spread my arms like a typical thug would and glared at him. He backed down.

Halima stood there and stared, stunned. A shy smile crept into her beautiful face. I went to her and tenderly took her hand, then asked her if she was alright. Halima smiled, and shook her head in wonderment. She told me I was amazing. Suddenly, our faces were inches apart. And that’s when we kissed. The kiss that changed my life. It changed Halima’s life too. We began seeing each other, not caring what the school, or our respective communities would think. I got to know her better. It turned out that my assessment of her age was wrong. She was twenty eight, not thirty. Showed me her health card and everything. The difference in our ages wasn’t too bad. Also, she wasn’t just a cleaner. She had ambition too, and was studying business administration at Algonquin College in the mornings while working in the evenings. Wow. It seems we were more of a match than I thought. Halima and I dated for a long while, and then one day I proposed to her. I told her that while I was raised Christian, I was willing to cross over into Islam for her if that’s what it took for us to be together.

Halima Muhammad accepted my proposal, then told me that I wouldn’t have to convert. She didn’t have any family in Ontario. Sadly, her relatives died during the protracted conflicts between militia guys and government forces in Somaliland. Halima Muhammad was the last survivor of her family. Since she didn’t have any family or close friends in the Somali community, she didn’t have anyone to answer to about her life choices. She could date whoever she wanted. When I asked her about the hijab, she told me she wore it for cultural reasons, not religious ones. She reminded me of our first encounter in the basement. Yeah, she was clearly NOT a conservative woman by any means. That day, we went to City Hall in downtown Ottawa and got a marriage licence. We were married before some friends of mine from school, our witnesses.

Ours is definitely a unique marriage. I’m a Christian man of Haitian descent happily married to a Muslim woman from Somaliland, and we’re quite happy together. Halima explained to me that she felt like a pioneer for being with me. When I asked her about it, she told me that Islam’s sexist rules allowed Muslim men to marry Christian girls and Jewish women with no problems, but unjustly forbade Muslim women from marrying men who weren’t Muslim. Well, Halima felt that Muslim women ought to be able to marry Christian men or Jewish men if they so choose, and to hell with sexist Muslim men who disagreed. Halima also warned me we’d have to be careful around Muslims, especially Somalis, who will strongly disagree with our union. I told her that for her, I’d face the world. She kissed me and told me I meant more to her than anything in the world. My wife is really something, ladies and gentlemen. Since we got hitched, she’s really letting her freak flag and has stopped wearing the hijab. I asked her to wear it occasionally…but only in the bedroom, because it turns me on. She’s cool with my fetish. We both love our kinky fun!

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