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As Salam Alaikum, people. The name is Ahmed Rahman and I’m a brother with one hell of a story to share with you. It’s not easy for me to admit this, especially given my Muslim background but here goes nothing. I am a bisexual man. I do it with girls and guys. There, I finally said it. Let the haters come if they will. I honestly don’t care anymore.
As a black man in Canadian society, I walk a fine line on even the best of days. I’m six-foot-one, lean and athletic, with dark brown skin and curly black hair that’s starting to go gray at the temples. I have a bachelor’s degree in communications from the University of Alberta, and an MBA from the University of Calgary. These days, I’m earning a Law degree at the University of Ottawa.
Nowadays, I live in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, and work for the Canadian government. The metropolis of Ottawa isn’t a bad place but I doubt it will ever feel like home. I’ve got Alberta on my mind, folks. Anyone who’s ever lived in the Prairies can relate to this one. Once you’ve lived in Alberta, no other place on the face of the earth will do.
I consider myself a proud Albertan and there are many reasons why. Chief among them? Alberta is my birthplace, folks. I was born in the City of Edmonton, Alberta, on November 9, 1980. My parents, Kader Rahman and Feven Ibrahim-Rahman emigrated to provincial Alberta, Canada, from Somaliland.
My father is Somali and my mother is Ethiopian. I grew up in a very loving and stable household, with a happy and supportive family. My father worked as a chef at our family restaurant, and my mother worked as a bookstore clerk. Life wasn’t always easy but my siblings and I wanted for nothing.
A lot of haters out there would have you believe that African Muslim immigrant families are dens of dysfunction, and that’s simply not true. My parents are God-fearing, hard-working people and proud Canadian citizens. I want to make that much abundantly clear.
I come from good stock, and was shown the right way. If I deviated from the path, it’s because of fate and mother nature’s whims, not any failing on my parents part. No matter how much a man wants to be like his father, he must follow his own path and carve his own way into this world.
“Come back to bed,” a loud, sleep-laden feminine voice snaps, and I am snatched from my reverie. Sitting in the darkened living room, cigarette in hand, it’s quite easy to allow one’s thoughts to wander. These nocturnal reflections help me cope.
“In a minute sweetie,” I reply, then extinguish the cigarette. I slowly walk back to bed, and greet my wife, Josephine Baxter-Rahman, with a kiss on the forehead, then pull the covers over our bodies. The nearby lamp is on its lowest setting, bathing our bedroom with a hazy yellow glow.
“I hate it when you disappear like that,” Josephine whispers, and I smile and kiss her, hoping to avoid an argument. Tall and sturdy, with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes, Josephine Baxter is a farmer’s daughter through and true. Born and raised in Red Deer, Alberta, this fiery woman took my breath away the first time I laid eyes ankara duşta veren escortlar on her.
“I just couldn’t sleep my dear,” I whisper, and kiss Josephine, pulling her close. For a brief moment Josephine resists me, then I feel her hot, womanly curves press against mine, and just like that, we begin to make love.
“Slow down,” Josephine says, and I voraciously kiss her lips and caress her large, full breasts as my hands rove over every inch of her curvy body. I kiss her throat, and fasten my lips to her tits, which causes her to giggle.
“Just like that lover boy,” Josephine says, and I continue licking and sucking on her tits, while my hands slip between her legs. A gasp escapes Josephine’s lips, and I make my way to her pelvic area, and inhale the hot, fiery scent of her womanhood.
“Makes me hungry,” I say, and just like that, I bury my face between her legs. Josephine moans softly as I begin working my magic on her, licking her pussy and tasting her. I love going down on a woman, almost as much as I love going down on a well-endowed man.
“Fuck yeah,” Josephine squeals, moaning softly as I finger her pussy while licking her. I do my thing, and soon Josephine is crying out my name in English and profane. To finish her off, I flick my tongue over her clit and stab her cunt with my fingers. That hit the spot, and Josephine went through the roof, howling like a madwoman.
“That was fun,” I say, smiling at Josephine, and she climbs on top of me, straddling me. Without a word being spoken, Josephine and I began making love. I thrust into her, loving the feel of her hot, tight pussy around my dick. I smacked Josephine’s thick round ass and she squealed while riding me.
Forty five minutes later, Josephine and I lay side by side, panting and sweaty, but happy as can be. I kiss her hand, and Josephine grins, and then rests her pretty blonde head against my chest. Soon Josephine is fast asleep, snoring loudly.
I wish I could fall asleep that easily. I’ve got much on my mind. Last week, Josephine revealed to me that she’s pregnant, and she’s ecstatic about it. She’s even told me about how her good friends at the Ottawa General Hospital, where she works as a nurse, want to throw her a baby shower at the appropriate time. Moving a little fast if you ask me but whatever.
I feel both excited and terrified at the thought that Josephine and I are about to become parents. We’re about to be a family. I’ve been estranged from my family ever since they found out that I swing both ways.
They were oh so shocked when they found out. Give me a break, folks. As if I’m the first bisexual Somali male in human history. Ha! Given how segregated folks are along gender lines in Somali society back home, I’m sure lots of Somali guys fuck guys and lots of Somali girls bang other girls. Of course, nobody’s talking about it since homosexuality and lesbianism are haram in Islam.
I’ve made peace with my sexuality a long time ago. I was nineteen when I discovered that I liked both sexes. I met Yousef Hussein at the University of Alberta in ankara fetiş yapan escortlar the fall of 1999. We were both freshmen, and the only black guys in a classroom of thirty five students, all of them communications majors. Something about the tall, dark-skinned Somali youth with the shaved head and goatee excited me.
“Wallahi, I feel like I’ve known you forever,” I said to Yousef as we walked around the University of Alberta campus together. The young man threw his head back and laughed, and I remember thinking that he was really beautiful, and my thoughts surprised me.
“You and I are going to get along famously,” Yousef said confidently, stroking his goateed chin, then he invited me to come to his dorm to chill. Since I didn’t have any classes later that day, I happily accompanied him to his place, thinking we’d smoke or watch TV.
Once we got there, however, I soon found out that Yousef Hussein had other plans for me. “You’re a beautiful man,” Yousef said to me as we sat on the living room couch, watching my favorite TV show, Angel.
I looked at Yousef, not knowing what to make of what he just said to me. Yousef grinned and laid his hand on my thigh. “Bet I’m not the first guy to say that to you,” he said, laughing.
“Um thanks,” I whispered, and then Yousef looked right into my eyes, and smiled that fearless smile of his. He drew closer to me, and then, amazingly, Yousef kissed me. Much to my utter amazement, I kissed Yousef back, and my passion surprised us both.
“I’m new to this,” I whispered, and Yousef laughed, and then promised to show me a whole new world. The brother was definitely a man of his word. That day, Yousef and I had sex for the first time and it was absolutely amazing. My first time making love to another man, something I would become addicted to for the rest of my life.
“Ride me,” Yousef said, as I climbed on top of him and impaled myself on his big dick. Yousef grabbed me and thrust into me, and I screamed passionately as his thick dick invaded my ass. The brother fucked me passionately, and I cried out while getting fucked.
For ages, in my most forbidden dreams, I’d yearned to get fucked by another man, I simply had never voiced it out loud. Somehow, Yousef sensed that about me and made a move on me. From that moment on, my world simply hasn’t been the same.
“You’re an amazing dude and I’m going to teach you stuff,” Yousef said to me, much later, as we exited the showers, and resumed watching TV in his dorm living room. From that day forward, Yousef Hussein and I became lovers. We kept it secret, of course.
You’ve probably never heard of two openly gay Somali men living together and there’s a good reason why. It’s not okay to be gay or lesbian in Somali culture. That shit will get you killed, fast. That’s why Yousef and I kept our relationship a secret. We were both dating women, so things were cool. I discovered a fondness for white girls, much to my mother’s chagrin, while Yousef dated a Muslim sister named Mariam Adewale, from Nigeria.
Yousef and I continued to have our fun throughout ankara iranlı escort our undergraduate years at the University of Alberta. We were known to each other’s families. I introduced Yousef to my parents as my best friend. In 2003, Yousef and I graduated with our degrees in communications. I stayed in Alberta while Yousef moved to Saint Paul, Minnesota.
Yousef was gone and I missed him dearly. As much as the secrecy of our relationship bugged me at times, it at least offered me stability. With Yousef gone, I began to dabble into dangerous aspects of the gay lifestyle. I drank a lot, partied too much and became promiscuous.
One day I brought home a guy named Malik, whom I met at a bar in downtown Calgary. Malik and I got to my place and fucked, and the next morning, when my Mom and Dad came to visit, they found us in bed together. That day my world ended. My folks disowned me, and kicked me out of our family. Alone, shunned by those I loved, I began making my way into this world as best I could.
My world was crashing and burning around me, and I didn’t know what to do. I returned to school, and began working on my Master’s degree while attending alcoholics anonymous meetings, to cure my addiction. After graduating from the University of Calgary with my MBA, I left Alberta, possibly forever.
I came to Ottawa, determined to get a good job and work on my career while avoiding promiscuous gay guys and loose women, along with drugs and alcohol, my lethal quartet, as far as vices went. I began working for the Canadian Revenue Agency, and stayed celibate, abstaining from all vices.
While attending an interfaith event, I met the woman destined to change my life forever. Josephine Baxter, a fellow Albertan, and fellow newcomer to Ottawa. “You’re a unique woman,” I remember saying to Josephine, as we walked through the basement of the church where the Christian/Muslim meeting was held, and she told me about her unique outlook on the world.
“God doesn’t want people of the book fighting in His name,” Josephine Baxter said, with a confidence in those pale blue eyes of hers which astounded me. At that point, I considered myself agnostic rather than Muslim, since I hadn’t gone to Masjid in ages, but I still believed in the Most High.
That night, as we sat down and talked, I opened up to Josephine like no one before and told her…everything. My sexual adventures with guys and girls in Alberta. My banishment from my family, the venerable Rahman clan of Somaliland. My loneliness. My addictions. My struggles. My pain.
When I finished, Josephine Baxter simply looked at me, smiled and hugged me. “I’m going to make it all okay,” Josephine whispered, hugging me. Don’t ask me why or how, but I believed her. We’ve been together ever since. A couple from completely different worlds. An ex-Muslim guy of Somali-Canadian descent and a country gal from Alberta. How do you like them apples?
“Thank God for you,” I whispered in the dark, gently stroking Josephine Baxter’s long blonde hair. I complain a lot, I think we all do, it’s human nature. I really shouldn’t do that. Come to think of it, I’ve got much to be thankful for. I’m close to getting my Law degree from the University of Ottawa. I’m doing well in my job with the C.R.A. and I’ve got the love of a good woman who is carrying my future son or daughter. I thank God for His blessings. Goodnight.
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