"So, Malik, you're a switch-hitter?" Amal Jama said softly, blinking as she took in the news just delivered to her by her boyfriend of almost two years, Malik Mensah. The tall, broad-shouldered young man nodded somberly, and swallowed hard. Malik's shoulders sagged, and he licked his lips, his posture ramrod straight, an ironic term, given his situation, as he carefully gauged his girlfriend's reaction.
For a young man considered by many to be a genuine giant due to his six-foot-four and two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame, the light-skinned, emerald-eyed, bearded and Afro-sporting young biracial Muslim brother seemed to shrink before the woman standing in front of him. Malik Mensah seemed unsure of himself for the first time in ages, and hated being in such a state, especially in front of Amal...
The two of them were at a wooden bench in the middle of the quad, a few steps away from the Carleton University campus library, their favorite spot. It was a bright sunny day, unseasonably warm considering they were in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, facing a usually frosty early September. Across the quad, students walked and talked, some sat at benches and checked stuff on their phones, and a few even read. Peaceful scene, though Malik couldn't appreciate it because he was full of turmoil...
"Well, Amal, if you mean that I'm bisexual, then yes, I guess I am," Malik said softly, and he braced himself for what was to come. For the past three years, he'd been blessed with having this wonderful young woman in his life. From the first time Malik laid eyes on Amal, on his way to the makeshift mosque at the Carleton University gym, he knew that she was indeed special. The thought of losing her filled him with dread...
"Looking for the prayer hall? It's at the gym, I'm going there, if you want, I can show you," those were Amal Jama's first words to Malik. It was a particularly hot Friday in early September, and Malik, a newcomer to Ottawa by way of Accra, Ghana, was still getting his bearings around both the Canadian Capital and the Carleton University campus. Finding a guide in Amal was a Godsend, in more ways than one.
"Shukran, thank you sister," Malik said, nodding profusely, and a smiling Amal looked him up and down. When their eyes met, Malik's heart actually skipped a beat. The five-foot-ten, brown-eyed, chocolate-hued, delightfully curvy young Somali woman in the traditional dress and dark blue Hijab had a certain presence, and it was one he couldn't deny. Malik, who'd lived everywhere from Accra, Ghana, to London, England, and dated women of various races, found himself mesmerized by Amal.
Born in the City of Accra, Ghana, to a French Canadian mother, Elise Courville, and a Ghanaian Muslim father, Abdullah Mensah, Malik is the son of two worlds. After more than two decades of marriage, Malik's parents divorced, and he went to live with his father in London where the latter took a position with the Ghanaian High Commission. The bustling, diverse but largely impersonal town of London was a far cry from family-friendly and traditional, community-oriented Accra where Malik grew up, but he adjusted nicely to life in the European capital.
After completing his bachelor's degree in Commerce at the University of Cambridge in the United Kingdom, Malik returned to his mother's homeland of Canada to study for his MBA at Carleton University. After all, Malik did get Canadian citizenship through his mother, thanks to some timely paperwork on Elise's part. At first, Malik Mensah thought little of his new digs, and then he met the most amazing woman, and changed his mind. Indeed, with Amal as his guide, Malik fell in love with the Canadian capital...
"Malik, did you hear me?" Amal said, and her normally sharp yet melodious voice snapped Malik out of his reverie. Amal stood there, hands on her hips, and Malik swallowed hard, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. Prior to deciding to confess to Amal the truth about himself, Malik knew he had to brace himself for her reaction. Most women weren't cool with dating bisexual men, hence why most bi guys kept their bi status to themselves.
"Yes, my dear, I'm listening," Malik said softly, and Amal stepped forward, her pretty face unreadable. Damn, hope she isn't going to slap me or do anything drastic, Malik thought, a bit alarmed. Amal stopped, a mere couple of inches from Malik, and the young man held his breath. Whatever was to come, he would face it like a man. He'd kept secrets from the woman he loved, so she had every right to be mad...
Malik thought of his discovery of his bisexuality, during his first year at the University of Cambridge in the U.K. In those days, his roommate was Moustapha Diallo, a tall, dark and handsome young black man from the landlocked nation of Gambia in West Africa. From the first time Malik laid eyes on Moustapha, desires long-repressed came to the surface, and it was the beginning of a profound change in the young man's life...
"Your desires are absolutely nothing to be afraid of," Moustapha said to Malik as they hung out in Poppa Joe's, a well-known gay bar located in Berkshire, which the two of them visited during a long weekend. Malik looked at Moustapha, who looked really good in a crimson silk shirt, black leather pants and black timberland boots. Damn, Malik had to admit, the brother from Gambia looked good enough to eat...
"Oh I'm not afraid anymore," Malik said, and then, much to his surprise, Moustapha grinned and kissed him. Malik barely remembered leaving the dimly lit Poppa Joe's bar, and heading to Moustapha's rented flat, or tumbling into bed with him. What Malik remembered vividly was making love to Moustapha. The two of them undressed, and began to make out. Malik ran his hands all over Moustapha's muscular, athletic body as he got on top of him. Hot damn, the brother was hot...
Looking into each other's eyes, Moustapha and Malik smiled at one another as they began to make love...If Malik was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd always been attracted to tall, dark-skinned men. Moustapha was just what the doctor ordered, and then some. Malik embraced Moustapha, and finally let go of his inhibitions. That night, he finally explored his manly desires...
"You taste wonderful," Moustapha said, and he took Malik's dick in his mouth and sucked him until Malik felt like he was about to burst. When Malik cried out in pleasure as he came, Moustapha grinned and sucked him dry. Afterwards, the handsome African Muslim stud climbed on top of Malik like he was a totem pole, and straddled him.
"You are smoking hot, sexy man," Malik said, and he felt his dick harden as Moustapha's ass pressed against it. Grinning, Moustapha reached for some condoms and a bottle of lotion that sat on the nearby nightstand. Grabbing Malik's hard dick, Moustapha rolled a condom on it, and then locked eyes with him. Malik put his hands on Moustapha's hips, and gave his cute ass a firm slap...
"Shut up and fuck me, Malik," Moustapha said, and Malik grinned, and bucked his hips, thrusting his dick deep into Moustapha's ass. Just like that, the two young men began making love. Moustapha screamed as Malik buried his dick deep inside of him, and he rode Malik hard. Moustapha's groans and screams really turned Malik on, and he fucked his lover with gusto, stabbing his ass with his dick and fucking him real good for the next couple of hours...
"I needed that, thank you," Malik said, smiling, and he pulled Moustapha close and kissed him. Moustapha returned his kiss, and pulled the covers over their sweaty, exhausted bodies. For the next couple of years, Malik and Moustapha lived together, and there was a part of Malik who wished it could always be so, even though a more logical part of him knew the world wasn't ready for bisexual Muslim men of African descent to live together and love one another.
Graduation day came, and Moustapha Diallo returned to Gambia to marry Mariam Jatta, a young woman he'd grown fond of during his summer trips to his homeland. As for Malik, he was heartbroken over the loss of Moustapha, the handsome young man with whom he'd shared his life for ages. Nevertheless, Malik knew he had to move on. That's why he left London behind, along with everything else meaningful to him. Malik never thought he'd love again...until he met Amal.
"Malik, you silly goose, I've known that you swung both ways from the moment we met, your eyes would go to girls butts and guys butts, don't think I haven't noticed," Amal said slyly, a mischievous gleam in her sparkling brown eyes. Upon hearing this, Malik's jaw hung open, gaping in shock, basically flapping in the breeze. If lighting had struck him right then and here, Malik wouldn't have been more shocked...
"Oh shit, I don't know what to say," Malik finally croaked, and Amal nodded, and then did something that was very out of character for her. Amal stood on her tippy toes, threw her arms around Malik and planted a kiss on his lips. Right in the middle of the quad, in front of everyone, this pious, Hijab-wearing Somali Muslim sister kissed the hell out of her man. When they came up for air, Malik took Amal's face in his hands and grinned.
