"This is too haram," Jamila Ahmed said to herself, as she walked walk around the Riverside Mall in the City of Minneapolis, Minnesota. With tremendous effort, Jamila pried her gaze from what she'd been gawking at...a trio of young brown women in tank tops and booty shorts. The summer was in full bloom, and this meant middle-aged males in Hawaiian shirts, which Jamila did not mind, and lots of girls wearing next to nothing, which Jamila minded very much. Temptation was everywhere, and it was pure hell for her...
Tall and curvy, with dark brown skin, clad in a long-sleeved blue shirt, ankle-length traditional black dress, and black winter boots, with her face framed by a modest ebony Hijab which also concealed her dark hair, Jamila Ahmed looked Somali to a T. In Minneapolis, the place she called home, women who looked and dressed like her were pretty much everywhere. Only newcomers to the State of Minnesota stared at them as some kind of novelty. Everyone else knew they were here to stay.
After decades in the State of Minnesota, the Somali people had established themselves firmly in the social consciousness of the place. Minneapolis belonged to Somali Americans the way Dallas and Houston belonged to Latino Americans, regardless of what the rednecks might think or say. On Fridays, Somali Muslim men in Thawbs and Somali Muslim ladies in hijabs and long dresses headed to the mosques, to give praise. They were proudly Somali-American, as patriotic as can be, but their faith, Islam, always came first.
For Jamila Ahmed, there was nothing like the City of Minneapolis in the summertime. In a few months she'd go back to university, and wanted to enjoy herself as much as possible before September. The place was beautiful, and its unique population contributed a lot to what made it great. Minneapolis is like no place on earth, Jamila thought with a smile.
The people of Minneapolis weren't as loud as New Yorkers, or as sophisticated and erudite as Bostonians, nor were they as hardy and ballsy as Texans, but they were most definitely unique. A blend of heart, toughness, spiritedness, and at times, surprising niceness. That's what one gets in the City of Minneapolis, Minnesota. For Jamila, there's definitely no place like home...
Jamila Ahmed hadn't been the same since she returned to her home state of Minnesota from her year-long stay in the City of Salvador, somewhere in the Bahia region of Brazil. Brazil definitely left its mark on Jamila's soul. While attending the Federal University of Bahia as an international student, Jamila met the young woman who changed her life forever, the lovely and unforgettable Selena Texeira, an openly lesbian biracial beauty.
"You're never going to want to let me go," Selena said to Jamila, the morning after their first night of love. They'd just gotten acquainted as roommates, and sparks flew between them. Jamila had been aware of her latent sexual attraction to women her whole life, and resisted it because, well, one couldn't be a Muslim woman and a practicing lesbian. Selena showed her another path, the path of passion...
"You are addictive, for sure," Jamila replied, looking at the tall, curvaceous, feminine yet tomboyish Brazilian beauty who lay in her bed. Selena flashed Jamila that fearless smile of hers, then kissed her on the lips. Jamila moaned softly as Selena slid her fingers into her wet pussy and began pleasuring her. Selena's knowing hands rubbed Jamila's nipples and Jamila found herself moaning in ecstasy. She was like putty in Selena's hands, and both women knew it.
"Don't stop," Jamila squealed, and Selena grinned, then kissed a path from Jamila's lips to her nipples, which she greedily sucked on, then she worked her way between her legs. Jamila held her breath as Selena inhaled her scent and then blew on her pussy before fastening those full, luscious lips of hers to her clitoris. As Selena worked her over, Jamila writhed and moaned on the bed, experiencing pleasures which she'd only imagined in her wildest dreams.
After lovemaking, Selena would hold Jamila and tell her how beautiful she was, and Jamila treasured those moments most of all. Selena was the first gal that Jamila kissed, and she was also the first woman that Jamila ever had sex with. Growing up as a young Somali Muslim woman, Jamila thought of gayness, bisexuality and lesbianism as haram or dirty and forbidden. A true Muslim woman or a true Muslim man wouldn't mess around with the same sex. That's what Jamila thought, until she met Selena...
Selena Texeira, the fearless young Brazilian woman who was born to an Afro-Brazilian father, Caesar Texeira, and a White American mother, Elisabeth Sweeney-Texeira. The daughter of two different worlds, Selena was both American and Brazilian, and proud of both. Selena's parents knew that their daughter liked women and not only accepted her sexual orientation but they fully supported her. For Jamila, this had been unfathomable, and quite perplexing, to say the least...
"Control yourself, woman," Jamila Ahmed told herself, banishing thoughts of Selena Texeira and the wonderful, strange and fascinating times they had back in the City of Salvador, Brazil. Selena was far away, and Jamila wouldn't be seeing her anytime soon. Besides, the last time Jamila checked up on Selena's Facebook page, she saw pictures of her favorite mixed-race Brazilian temptress in the arms of a tall, masculine, light-skinned black chick, somewhere in the City of Toronto, Ontario.
"Excuse me, do you know how to get to Edina? I'm from out of town," came a female voice, startling Jamila out of her murky thoughts. The young Somali-American Muslim woman turned and found herself facing a vision of beauty. Before her stood a tall, curvy young African American woman with skin of a rich chocolate hue, clad in a red tank top, blue booty shorts and black leather boots. Her hair was neatly braided and tucked under a Boston Red Sox baseball cap.
"Oh, um, yes, Salaam, Edina is a suburb about nine miles from Minneapolis," Jamila said, and the young woman smiled, thanked her and introduced herself as Bianca Haywood. Jamila shook Bianca's hand, and remarked on the gal's accent, and that's when Bianca nodded, and she looked into Jamila's eyes for a bit longer than was considered socially acceptable before replying.
"I'm from Boston, I'm visiting Minneapolis and staying with my aunt for a few weeks," Bianca said, and her lovely brown eyes flitted up and down Jamila's body, and a sly smirk creased the corners of her lips. Jamila sighed, for she most definitely knew what was up. Straight women might complain about men whistling at them or catcalling from their cars, lesbian women didn't have it easier. There were lots of bold women like Bianca out there, always hitting on a sister...
"Well, Bianca, I'm Jamila, and let me wish you a warm welcome to Minnesota," Jamila heard herself say. From the way Bianca smiled, the normally reserved Jamila knew she'd given the right answer. The two young women went into a nearby café and got to know each other a bit. As it turns out, Bianca Haywood majored in Criminal Law at Northeastern University, and upon hearing that Jamila studied engineering at the University of Minneapolis, she had a lot of questions about engineering. Apparently, she was intrigued by the idea of a woman in such a male-dominated field...