"Adam, just because I'm a Muslim woman and wear the Hijab doesn't automatically make me a prude," Zahra Makassed said haughtily, waving the vintage erotica novel Peeping At Pamela by Yolanda Celbridge in my damn face. Zahra likes to read sex stories. I smiled and nodded gently at the lovely young woman sitting across from me. What am I going to do with her?
At this hour, the Westgate Mall was quite lively, full of old folks, and young people going about their day. Carling is technically part of Nepean, but I live in quietly affluent Barrhaven, the "good" side of Nepean, Ontario. Hope I don't sound like a bit of a snob. Alright, I guess living in Barrhaven has started to rub off on me a little bit. What can I say? A man's milieu has a way of influencing him, whether he likes it or not...
I don't come by Carling Avenue too often, today is indeed a special occasion. I came by to open up a new student checking account with the Royal Bank of Canada...and found my pal Zahra Makassed doing some shopping nearby. Never one to snub a friend by not saying hello, I approached Zahra and greeted her. My casual greeting turned into a full-length conversation, and next thing I know, Zahra and I were sitting at the food court, eating sandwiches while discussing our love lives.
Folks walking by stared at Zahra and I, partly because we come from very different worlds. Zahra is half black and half Arab, but looks more Arab than black for some reason. Folks often ask her if she's from Morocco, Yemen or Brazil, since they mistake her for some variety of Arab, North African or occasionally, Latino. Zahra Makassed is proud of her partial African heritage and quite active in the black student groups at our school. It's one of the things I love about her.
My name is Adam Lescot, and I was born in the City of Miami, Florida, to a Haitian immigrant father and a Latin-American mother from Guatemala. I'm six-foot-one, a bit chubby, with medium brown skin, a bit of an Afro, and a slick goatee. People say I look like Rapper Ice Cube, only I'm the same shade as The Rock. I am equally proud of my Afro-Caribbean roots and my Latin roots, and I'm fluent in Haitian Creole, Spanish and English. I'm that brother representing his people by wearing "Black Lives Matter" T-shirts.
My parents, Louis Lescot and Julianna Batista-Lescot got divorced a few years back, and my mother moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, a while ago. I was bummed about the split, but it was amicable. Some things just aren't meant to be. Mom got a job as an executive for a Canadian tech company, Ciena Incorporated. Dad would visit us from Florida whenever he could. Not exactly an ideal situation but life happens, am I right or am I right?
When I first came to the capital of Canada, I found the place boring and hated it with a fiery passion. The province of Ontario, Canada, is a far cry from the Sunshine State where I was born and raised, that's for damn sure. I used to go to Florida to visit my father ever summer. Those were the days. Adjusting to life in the City of Ottawa as a biracial American wasn't easy, but I did the best I could. It's not so bad out here. I attend Carleton University, I have a job selling phones at the Bayshore Mall, and up until recently, I had a girlfriend, Aneeja Singh of Kerala, India. How times change...
"Of course not, my dear, you're anything but a prude," I replied, and gently took Zahra's hands in mine, and brought them to my lips. Zahra giggled and said nothing. I've known Zahra for quite some time now, and although we're close friends, even on the best of days she can be a bit of a handful. Five-foot-ten, curvy and quite lovely, with golden brown skin and a slightly angular face framed by curly black hair which she almost always tucks away under her Hijab, Zahra is indeed a cutie.
Born of a Lebanese-Canadian father and a Jamaican immigrant mother, Zahra Makassed is the union of two completely different worlds. When we first met, we totally clicked and called ourselves "The Mixed Brats." We're both biracial, get it? Zahra and I used to hang out a lot, and we told each other everything. In fact, aside from my mother, Zahra is the only person who knows that I'm a bisexual man. It's not something I go around telling people, even though Ottawa is a fairly liberal town and gay marriage is legal nationwide in Canada. Homophobia still exists, so I'm cautious.
"I miss Saif," Zahra whined for the umpteenth time, and I rolled my eyes and sipped my Pepsi. Seriously, I was tired of hearing Zahra whine about Saif Alharbi, a Saudi Arabian student she met and subsequently dated last year. I never thought much of Saif, to tell you the truth. The guy was lazy, blew the money given to him by his government on sheer nonsense, and he was a tad bit too controlling in his dealings with Zahra. Good riddance, I remember thinking on the day that Zahra told me Saif dumped her and moved back to Dammam, Saudi Arabia.
"I miss Aneeja Singh, but letting go of her was for the best," I said as I downed the remainder of my Pepsi, suddenly wishing I were drinking something much stronger, like Irish Whiskey. Try as I might, I couldn't forget about the short, curvaceous young Indian woman I met in the Carleton University library almost two years ago. Aneeja and I had a good time, and I'd like to think she cared about me, but let's face it, a lot of Indians don't like black people.
Aneeja Singh and I were seeing each other for a while and while I met her friends and introduced her to my family, she never reciprocated. A week after my fourth year at Carleton University started, I went to the third floor of the campus library to see her, since it's our favorite spot. Aneeja acted like she hadn't seen me, and when I later ran into her in the stairwells, she flashed me a fake smile and took out her phone to blab with someone else. Cold, eh? Things hadn't been great between us for some time, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was done with that chick, seriously.
"Honestly, Adam, this Aneeja chick was nothing but trouble, you were much happier with Rashid," Zahra said, and I bristled at her casual mention of my ex-boyfriend's name. I met Rashid Elmi while working as a security guard at a grocery store located in the South Keys area, and we became friends. I never thought the tall, lean and handsome, masculine Somali dude was queer, but he was bisexual, and he liked me a lot. Rashid and I began a passionate, if secretive, romance. One which lasted almost two years.
Rashid Elmi was paranoid about his conservative Somali Muslim family finding out that he swung both ways. His paranoia and a few other issues brought our relationship to the brink...and it ended badly. Look, it's not easy to be a bisexual man in today's world, I get that. Rashid often felt guilty after we had sex, and this bothered me a great deal. I'm closeted myself and understood the need for discretion, but Rashid's self-loathing bothered me and I ended our relationship.
Still, if I'm totally honest with myself, sometimes I miss Rashid Elmi. I miss the feel of his big Somali dick up my ass, among other things. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sex with the ladies, and my ex-girlfriend Aneeja the cutie from Kerala, India, was quite good in bed. Man, the things we used to do together, Aneeja and I. I would lay my favorite cutie in bed, and lick her golden brown body from her head to her toes. I kind of like short girls, I don't know why.
I have something of an oral fixation, and love going down on ladies...and men. Aneeja and would spread her thick, shapely thighs and I would bury my face between them, eating her out with gusto. My cutie would squeal and moan as I fingered her pussy while teasing her clit with my tongue. I would lick her pussy until she squirmed and finally gave it up, the girly juice. I love the taste of female cum and can't get enough of it...
"I'm going to ride your face," Aneeja said to me, a few nights ago, after we came home from seeing The Magnificent Seven, the new version featuring Denzel Washington and that guy from Jurassic Park and Guardians of The Galaxy. Aneeja looked sexy in a red tank top and blue jeans, and that thick ass of hers was begging for my attention. I was down for whatever...
"Yes ma'am," I replied as I lay on our bed, and Aneeja tossed aside her panties and climbed on top of me. My lady sat on my face, and I inhaled her scent. Sliding two fingers into Aneeja's pussy I fingered her snatch while my tongue wormed its way into her asshole. A lot of brothers can't admit that they eat ass, but I am not one of them. I devoured Aneeja's butt hole, eating her out until she squirmed and came. Hell yeah, I've got the magic touch...too bad it wasn't enough.
Afterwards, I put Aneeja on all fours and rolled a condom on my dick, and then pushed it into her pussy. Slowly, passionately, I made love to my lady. Aneeja was real precious to me, and I enjoyed pleasuring her. We went at it for a good while, and I really beat the pussy up, as they say. Aneeja's screams of passion filled our room, and we fucked and sucked the night away. It was awesome.
Aneeja Singh and I simply weren't meant to be. I can see that now. I tried everything I could to make her happy, but let's face it, a relationship cannot work if it's one person doing all the work. I am the son of a black man from the island of Haiti, and my mother is a Latin lady from Guatemala. I remembered the way people stared at us, simply for being an interracial family, back in the day in Miami. I thought Aneeja and I could have something special, like my folks once did, but you can't have a love story when it's only one person in love.
"Nah, Zahra, I'm cool," I said, snapping out of my reverie, and I looked away from Zahra, and glanced at a young couple that came nearby. A white dude dressed like he was trying to be the next Eminem, and a tall, plump black chick. The two walked about the Westgate Mall, hand in hand, and their eyes fell upon Zahra and I. I smiled politely, though I saw disapproval in those eyes of theirs. I'll never understand why a lot of black girls who date men of other races get antsy when they see a brother with a woman who isn't black. What gives?
"Cute couple," Zahra said, even though I'm sure she saw the way the black chick with the white boyfriend dressed like a wannabe rapper looked at the two of us. I wonder what that young black woman with the white boyfriend would think if she knew that Zahra is half black and half Arab, as in technically black if one goes by the one-drop-rule. Whatever. Absentmindedly my hand brushed against Zahra's, and to my surprise, she gave it a squeeze.
