A Bisexual Haitian Muslim Tale

"Fuck that bitch," I said aloud as I checked my messages on my iPhone, and realized that it had been two days since I heard from Inaya Yusuf, a certain Somali Muslim chick I met downtown a couple of weeks ago. Not a good sign considering that we just had our first date at Starbucks inside the Saint Laurent Mall in the east end of Ottawa. Not again, I thought bitterly.

I feel a slight twinge of disappointment and regret in my chest. I had high hopes for Inaya Yusuf. Like a lot of young Black men living in north America, I am sick and tired of seeing men who look like me dead at the hands of racist cops in the news. That's why I went to a local Black Lives Matter protest. I met Inaya Yusuf there and the cute Somali sister was on fire, so passionate about the cause. I thought she was cool. Oh, well. Live and learn, eh? I got off the train and walked through campus, intent on making my way to the library.

"Yo, Suleiman, what's up?" came a vaguely familiar voice, and I turned to see Amina Said, this Arab chick I met a while ago. Tall and plump, busty and wide-hipped, with dark bronze skin, dark eyes and dark hair perpetually tucked away under her Hijab, Amina isn't bad-looking but way too religious and uptight for my liking. Add to that the fact that she went out with Malik Berhanu, an Ethiopian bastard whose guts I hate, and you can fathom why I was less than enthused to see her.

"As Salam Alaikum, Amina," I replied politely, and Amina and I made small talk in front of the University Center building, and then, mercifully, she wished me a good day and walked away. I watched Amina walk away, and couldn't help admiring her thick ass, which seemed to stick out even though she had a traditional long skirt on. Hijabi with a thick ass, if I had a fetish, this one would be it. Shaking my head, I walked away.

Alright, before we go any further, some logistics. My name is Salomon Valmont, but ever since I embraced Islam, I go by Suleiman. There aren't a lot of Haitian Muslims but I am proud to say that I am one of them. I'm six-foot-one, burly and broad-shouldered, with dark brown skin and a thick Afro. I'm a student at Carleton University where I major in Criminology. Just a guy trying to navigate through life in the dreaded Capital, that's me.

I walk through the U.C. Building and debate whether or not to get coffee at the Tim Horton's. Well, there's a long line and I don't do lines. I walk to the nearby store, Henry's, and buy some samosas and a Pepsi, which I tuck into my backpack since the library staff like to bug me over bringing in food and drink. They seem to single me out for this, though. I've seen guys and gals walk into the library with pizzas and drinks without being bothered. Yeah, welcome to my life.

As I exit Henry's and head to the elevator, I ran into an interesting couple. A chubby White dude with a scorpion tattoo on his neck is holding hands with a tall Black chick with dreadlocks. They're smiling at each other and their eyes fall on me. I smile politely, and press the number four button on the elevator. There's a moment of needless tension. The Black lady throws her arms around Mr. Chubby White Dude and hugs him while looking pointedly at me. Seriously, this again?

In case you don't know, a lot of Black chicks seem to get off on showing off their White boyfriends to the nearest Black man, as if he's supposed to care. I don't care whom a random female that I don't know goes to bed with. It's none of my business. The elevator reaches the fourth floor, and I exit. Before I leave, my eyes meet Mr. Chubby White Dude's and he blinks nervously. Suddenly I realize that I've seen him somewhere. Whatever.

I make my way through the Atrium and finally reach the bright and sunlit quad. Lots of grass, lots of female students lying on said grass while reading or texting or whatever. Such a beautiful scene. Not my thing. I walk into the campus library, my sanctuary, and find my favorite seat unoccupied. Yay! I sit down, log on and get started on what I came to do, online registration for my final semester at Canada's Capital University.

Suddenly, I realize where I saw Mr. Chubby White Dude, and it makes me laugh. Out loud. People sitting nearby look at me but I don't care. Alright, people. Got a confession to make. I am a bisexual man, though I definitely prefer women. A while ago, I got involved with this biracial dominatrix named Whitney, who operates in the Ottawa area. She's no longer in my life but it was fun while it lasted.

Whitney is definitely something else, folks. Curvy, with light brown skin, long Black hair and green eyes, this biracial cutie is sadistic, vicious and very creative when it comes to human sexuality. The Ottawa dominatrix par excellence. One of her specialties is female-dominated, man-to-man, supposedly "forced bisexual" sessions. Whitney likes to fuck guys in the ass with her strap-on dildo and also make guys suck other guys dicks.

I was a spectator at one of those sessions, since voyeurism is one of my hobbies, and remember seeing a certain chubby White dude, prompted by Whitney, suck off a well-endowed bisexual Black guy known only as Bull Mac. I recall that chubby White dude had a scorpion tattoo on his neck, and he sucked that Black guy's dick with gusto. Even swallowed the cum when he finished. Nice. Hmm, so, that Black chick in the elevator was showing off her White boyfriend to me, eh? I wonder what she would think if she knew he liked Black dick more than she does. Life is so funny sometimes.

I finish my registration, and as I'm about to exit the library, I receive a text. My heart leaps, and it's not whom I hoped had finally texted. It's not Inaya Yusuf, the Somali Muslim chick I met with at Starbucks a couple of days ago. It's Christina Wong, this tall and sexy, forty-something Asian lady I've known for a few years. Christina is an amateur dominatrix and we've had some fun together recently. She was away in Montreal for much of this summer, but now she's back.

"Hello, Salomon, guess who's back in Ottawa? We must meet for a session soon, my friend," Christina texted me. I sent her a smiley face, and welcomed her back to Ottawa. I am almost bubbling with excitement. I feel a stir down below, and a shiver down my spine. Last time Christina and I got together for a session, it was absolutely epic, let me tell you.

"Bend over for Mistress, Salomon, your cute Black ass belongs to me," Christina whispered into my ear. Happily I did as I was told, my favorite position being face down and ass up. Christina got behind me and donned some gloves, then poked my butt hole while lubricating it. I waited, patiently, for Christina to start fucking me with the strap-on dildo. Finally, Christina gripped my hips and thrust into me, and the fun began.

"Oh yes, nice and deep," I cried out, and Christina laughed and slapped my ass as she began fucking me. Christina fucked me real good, sliding the dildo deep inside of me. It might be a weird thing for a bisexual man to say, but I prefer a female with a dildo to a real dick in my ass. I've bottomed a few times for well-endowed gay and bisexual guys, but didn't like it. Christina fucks me better than the guys I've been involved with. Incredible, but true, in my case.

I am snatched out of this sexual reverie by some voices. A bunch of chicks, two Black girls and three White girls, are entering the library. They laugh and giggle like freshmen, and I sigh. Ah, to be young again. Christina texts me the logistics for our next session, which is to take place Saturday downtown, and I happily reply in the affirmative. As for the campus gals, I walk past them and through the quad. Time to get to the train and make my way to the City of Barrhaven, Ontario, where I work as a security guard for a major retail store. Just another day in the life, ladies and gentlemen.