Saudi Milf And Black Scholar Ch 07

Holding hands while walking through the Saint Laurent Mall in the east end of the City of Ottawa, Ontario, my boo Tyrone Ferguson and I got a lot of stares. Oh, well. Let the haters stare. Yes, we're an interracial couple, an Arab woman with a black man. Guess what? We're of different hues and we're happy together and the world isn't ending. My name is Amina Alzahrani and I'm a young woman of Saudi Arabian descent living in Canada's Capital. Got one helluva story to share with you, folks.

Tyrone Ferguson and I were casually strolling through the crowded Saint Laurent Mall, just doing some shopping, when I noticed how damn much we got stared at. Understand that the east end, especially the Vanier area, is one of the most racially diverse spots in all of metropolitan Ottawa. Lots of Somalis, Arabs, Haitians, Chinese and other ethnic minorities call this place home. You'd think that in a place like that, we'd blend in. And you'd be totally wrong.

Walking out of Sears, I saw a Somali chick in a hijab and long skirt holding hands with a Lebanese-looking dude. The two seemed very much into each other. And then they saw Tyrone and I...and froze. I looked them up and down and smiled, and then, to really shine them on, I kissed Tyrone on the lips for no apparent reason. Not that I needed a reason to kiss my boo's full, succulent lips, mind you.

You should have seen the look on the Somali woman's face when she saw me locking lips with Tyrone, one of the finest brothers on the face of the earth. I swear, people are okay with interracial relationships as long as there's no black guy involved. Bunch of bigots if you ask me. In Saudi Arabia, I saw lots of women of all hues with Saudi Arabian men.

Seriously, Saudi guys fondness for Ethiopian women, Indian women and Filipino women is almost legendary. And yet you'd never see a Saudi guy allow his daughter to marry a black man, even if he's a good Muslim from a good family. That's one of the many double standards in Saudi society, and the rest of the Arab world, to tell you the truth. It's considered okay for Arab men to date/marry women of any color or culture but it's virtually forbidden for Arab women to date/marry men who are from outside the Arab world.

As a Saudi Arabian woman, I'm not permitted to marry non-Saudi men, although exceptions can be made for men from the Gulf States, such as Kuwaitis, Omanis and Qataris. I think that's bullshit, and it's part of the reason why I left the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I'm a smart young woman with a mind of my own. I wanted to be more than just the wife of some dude selected for me by my family. I had dreams and goals that went far beyond what's considered acceptable for a Saudi woman in the society in which I was born and raised.

Lots of Saudi women are studying at fine colleges and universities in the United States of America, Canada, England, Australia and other wealthy western countries. When they return to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia with their fancy western education, they're still the powerless daughters and wives of control freaks. All because of tradition and the iron-clad rules of the religion. That's the fate of Saudi Arabian women, folks.

Can you imagine a smart, fearless woman with a Ph.D. taking orders from a man who can barely write his own name simply because, as a man, he is considered better than her? That's the fate of millions of highly educated, beautiful and ambitious Saudi Arabian women. They're all doomed to lives of quiet desperation and lack of fulfillment because of it. I swore to myself that it would not be my fate.

That's why I left Yanbu, the town in which I was born, and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia itself. I left my former husband Samir Alzahrani and my outraged parents Ahmed and Khadija Hassan. All for the mere chance at a different life. I came to provincial Ontario, Canada, as an international student, enrolling at the University of Ottawa to study bio-medical engineering. As soon as I could, I approached the Canadian government, explained my situation and asked for political asylum.

Fortunately, the Canadian government listened to my refugee claim, and granted it to me. I got a work permit, a social insurance card and went and got myself a job at the local Loblaw's. I continued my studies, and applied for permanent resident status as soon as I could. Once I got it, I kissed the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia goodbye. For good. As far as I'm concerned, if I never see Saudi Arabia's burning sands again, it'll be too soon. There's nothing for me back there except helplessness and virtual slavery, the fate of all women inside the Kingdom. Thanks but no thanks.

Today, I'm happily walking through the Saint Laurent Mall while holding hands with my beloved. I'm proud to say that I'm with Tyrone Ferguson, the African-American stud muffin I met in the City of Buffalo, New York, a little over a year ago. A most fateful encounter, to be sure. One that changed both of our lives. For the better, I'd like to say. Tyrone looked at me, smiled and brought my hand to his lips. I giggled happily, positively glowing with happiness at such a sweet gesture. What can I say? My man knows how to make me purr!

That's why I took Tyrone by the hand, and we went to the second-floor washroom, the one near the cell phone booths and bookstore, and we found an unlocked gate leading to a part of the Saint Laurent Mall that was under renovation. Giggling, Tyrone and I snuck inside, and went to a secluded spot, in an area that was off-limits to anyone who wasn't mall personnel.

Let's do this, Tyrone Ferguson whispered, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. We embraced passionately, and then got busy. Hiking up my skirt, Tyrone slid his eager fingers into my panties and began fingering my already wet cunt. Fuck yeah, I hissed, already horny. Tyrone sat me down on a dusty table, amid construction equipment, and buried his face between my legs.

Just like that, I whispered as Tyrone began feasting on my pussy. I can't get enough of this man, I swear. Like a hungry man, Tyrone licked, probed, teased and devoured my pussy. Soon I was crying out in sheer pleasure. Tyrone's got a wicked tongue, in more ways than one, and knows how to make my toes curl. I was tingling down below, little shockwaves of pleasure cascading throughout my cunt, and it was all because of Tyrone.

Fuck me sweetie, I whispered, and Tyrone heeded my plea. The African-American stud lifted me up and I happily wrapped my legs around his torso, drawing him into me. Tyrone eased his manhood out of his pants, and pressed his hard dick against me. I groaned sharply as Tyrone thrust into my pussy. The feel of his hard dick stabbing my cunt thrilled me like you would not believe. Hard and fast Tyrone fucked me, slamming his dick deep inside of me. We fucked like sex was going out of style, so much that we didn't hear approaching footsteps...

The skinny Asian dude walking out of the backroom must have been drawn by the noise Tyrone and I made, for he approached the room curiously. Upon seeing us, his eyes went wide, and he gasped. I looked up at him, smiled, and waved at him. Tyrone looked up, saw the dude and made a half-roar in frustration and anger. The Asian dude ran out of there like Satan himself was after him. I looked at Tyrone, and smiled.

Let's get out of here, Tyrone said, and I winced in disappointment as he pulled out of me. Tyrone and I were barely done readjusting our clothes when we heard the mall security people approaching. Tyrone kind of panicked but I told him to act cool. I linked my arm with his, and we casually walked out of the corridor and into the mall proper, where we pretended to look at cell phones at the booth while security walked right past us, with the proverbial Asian tattle tale. Grinning, I shook my head and Tyrone and I walked out of the mall and headed to the parking lot upstairs. Nicely done back there, Tyrone said, sighing in relief. I casually shrugged. I'm a Saudi woman, we're slick like that!