A Somali Queen In Ottawa
- 2 years ago
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Maimuna The Somali MILF free porn video
What’s up people? Stefano Saint-Mathieu here. Technically, I’m supposed to leave work around seven in the morning but I almost never do. The bus heading to Nepean stops by the Bank Street building where I work overnight security around six thirty five, and I try my best to catch it. Otherwise I’d have to wait for the next one at six forty five, and in the freezing core of downtown Ottawa, that sucks. The Ontario winter is no joke. So I always make a run for it when I see the bus.
I absolutely hate working security downtown, too many government worker type of bozos with their heads up their asses in the building where I work. Seriously, if you’re a young black man walking around the Canadian capital, people stare at you a lot, even though Ottawa has sizeable populations of African, Arab and Asian immigrants. Diversity is here to stay but not everyone is happy about it.
Working in an office building full of uptight, smug white folks can be taxing on the body and the mind. The fact that half of my fellow security guards are bitter, disgruntled and rude old white guys doesn’t make my life any easier. I swear, there are two Canada instead of one. What do I mean by that? Please let me clarify.
On the one side you’ve got diverse Canada, full of Africans, Arabs, Asians, Aboriginals and other visible minorities, and we’re a young, fast-breeding and energetic group, and on the other hand you’ve got old-school or traditional Canada which is old, white, and dull. The two are starting to clash, man. I see it at work all the time.
You’ve got a lot of Somali guys, Haitian guys and Arab guys working security at office buildings and government buildings in downtown Ottawa while attending local colleges and universities, and they’re usually being supervised by old white guys who are close to retirement age. The two groups don’t get along at all. Makes our workplaces a minefield. Any wonder I hate my job?
That morning, I caught the OC Transpo bus by a hair and I saw a lot of unfamiliar faces. You get used to your morning commute and certain faces become familiar, whether you like it or not. I sat in the first row behind the seats reserved for old people, pregnant women, or what-have-you, and briefly skimmed through the novel I picked up at the campus library. The Broker by John Grisham, the author whose novels inspired me to aspire to go to law school, back when I just a snot-nosed brat from the Caribbean freshly arrived in Canada.
The nearly six feet tall, Hijab-wearing, brown-skinned Somali lady with the thick ass sat down in the row opposite mine definitely raised my temperature on that frosty Wednesday morning in mid-February, let me tell you. I’ve always had a thing for mature Somali women, especially the conservatively attired ones. Blame that on Fatouma, a Somali lady I met a few years back. We became friends, and even flirted some, though not much came of it.
I’m of Haitian descent, and a Catholic, those factors make meeting Somali women kind of hard since they’re pretty much all Muslim and tend to stick with guys from their faith and culture. Oh, well, a guy can dream, can’t he? I kept reading my book, and from time to time, I checked out the Somali MILF. I’m twenty seven years old, you’d think I’d stop using frat guy terminologies but nope, growing older doesn’t change how I feel about ladies of a certain age. My favorite porn site of all time is The MILF Hunter, it’s packed full of videos of sexy mature ladies, and I’ve been watching it since my high school days.
I noticed that the tall Somali MILF was reading a small booklet with a green cover and some Arabic lettering on its inner pages. The cover read Fortress Of The Muslim, and I guessed it to be some kind of religious book. Not the Koran, mind you, but something containing Islamic religious texts. That’s cool, I guess. I’m all for respecting people’s right to practice their religion.
The Somali lady closed her eyes and repeated some words to herself, and in that moment, my heart skipped a beat. Whether it’s because of the way her Hijab framed her lovely brown face, or the sincerity I saw as she prayed ( or whatever ) with her eyes closed, I don’t know, but the Somali MILF had this brother mesmerized. Seriously, I found her completely and utterly beautiful, and I say this as respectfully as I can.
The bus rolled on, and soon we reached the university campus. I happen to attend this university, and I’m close to getting my criminology degree. I didn’t qualify for OSAP so I’ve got to pay my own way. Canada’s capital university is a lovely institution full of bright people, but it’s definitely not cheap. The tall Somali lady put her book into her bag, rubbed her hands together, donned her gloves and then got up. My eyes followed her as she made her way to the central building, and disappeared inside.
I smiled to myself as the bus drove on, and then I got off a few stops after the university campus. I got home at seven thirty that morning, and went straight to bed after kicking off my boots. Seriously, I just tossed off my security coat and collapsed in bed, still wearing my uniform shirt and dark pants. Yup, I’m a tired black man, folks. I woke up around two o’clock, and then showered and got ready to return downtown.
You see, I’ve got the worst schedule ever when it comes to my security job. On Mondays, I work from three in the afternoon till eleven. I come in Tuesday night at eleven and finish at seven in the morning on Wednesday. I come back at three on Wednesday afternoon and finish at seven in the afternoon ( a short, crappy shift ) and then return Thursday night at eleven to finish at seven on Friday morning.
That’s twenty eight hours of work per week ( I refuse to work weekends ) at twelve dollars and seventy five cents per hour. My rent costs four hundred a month, and I’ve got utilities and groceries to worry about, not to mention tuition. Yeah, I don’t have much of a life. I’ve got a criminology class at eight in the morning on Monday and a law class at six in the evening on Thursdays. I’m very close to getting all the credits I need to graduate with a bachelor’s degree in criminology from this fine but expensive Canadian university. My life is a struggle but I see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Given my busy schedule, I don’t have much of a life, and I honestly cannot tell you the last time I had sex or went on a date. My last relationship ended a year and a half ago. I was dating this white chick named Emily and she had issues. Dumped me out of the blue and blocked me from Facebook and Twitter. Never provided me with an explanation. Isn’t love grand, folks?
Come Thursday, I went to school early, wanting to see my friends and bask in the ambience of the university campus. I love my school, and hate both my job and the crappy house that I share with some truly lousy and noisy roommates. School is my refuge, seriously. The racist white bozos working downtown look down on me when they see me, a tall young black man in a security uniform. Once I get my criminology degree, I’m going straight to Law School and then I’m going to be what they all fear, a professional black man who’s going places. Fuck Ottawa and the racist creeps who live and work in it, seriously.
I love my university campus because it’s racially diverse, you see lots of students of all colors, and for the most part, we get along. That’s how the rest of Canada ought to be. Maybe it’ll be that way once we so-called visible minorities outnumber white Canadians in all the major cities. It’s going to happen even if that xenophobic creep Prime Minister Stephen Harper fights against it. Bozo can’t stop us all.
I was walking around the central building with my buddy Ramon, a stocky Mexican dude, when I saw…her. The tall Somali gal from the bus. The lady was pushing a cart, and I suddenly realized that she was a cleaner. I stood there, mesmerized by the sight of the tall, serene lady walking calmly through throngs of students, pushing her
cart. Suddenly, some bozo running bumped into her, didn’t excuse himself, and caused her cart to flip over. People just stared but did nothing to help her.
I rushed to the Somali lady’s aid, and righted her cart, then apologized for the rude runner’s behavior. The Somali lady seemed surprised by my gesture and told me that I looked vaguely familiar. I hesitated, then introduced myself as Mathieu, security guard and university student who hopes to become a lawyer someday. The lady smiled, and then did something I wasn’t expecting. Extending her hand toward me, she introduced herself as Maimuna Jibril, newcomer from Somalia.
Thus we were introduced, Maimuna Jibril and I. Definitely one for the ages, I think. I shook her hand, wished her a good day and walked away, while my buddy Ramon blathered on about his latest conquest, some big-booty Jamaican chick. The next morning, when I finished my overnight security work, guess who I saw on the bus? The lovely Maimuna, and she remembered me. Grinning, Maimuna called me by name and asked me to sit next to her. I grinned so broadly my face nearly split.
That’s how it began, ladies and gentlemen. The relationship destined to change my life. Maimuna Jibril was born in the Hiran region of Somalia, and lost her husband Ali and their daughter Amina to the tribal warfare which plagued Somalia for much of their lives. I was saddened when Maimuna revealed these things to me. The lady was thirty six years old and had been through so much. I promised Maimuna that I would be her friend and protector in Ottawa, and the lady laughed and nodded.
We became friends, Maimuna and I. True, we were from different worlds. I was born on the island of Haiti and raised in Ottawa, Ontario. I’m a Canadian citizen via naturalization. Maimuna was a newcomer to Canada, and a refugee claimant whose claim just got accepted by the Canadian immigration bureau. The poor woman just wanted to rebuild her life, and the only relative she had left on this earth was her older sister Aisha, who recently left Ottawa for Calgary, thanks to a techie job she found in the Prairies.
Maimuna had been through a lot, but I was determined to help her enjoy life again. Canada can be so tough on newcomers, seriously. Maimuna speaks English, French, Italian and the Somali language. Someone with those talents should find a better job in Canada than just cleaning on a university campus. Maimuna told me that she wanted to go back to school and had already gotten accepted at La Cite Collegiale. Nursing is what she wanted to study. Back in Somalia, Maimuna worked as a nurse at one of Mogadishu’s few remaining medical centers.
Maimuna and I began hanging out casually, and I took her to movies and malls, helping her see the good side of Ottawa. Yes, the town is boring and full of racist, passive-aggressive bozos but there are good people here, and our growing racial diversity is something to behold. Maimuna was a shut-in, and I knew this wasn’t healthy. On one of our most memorable outings, I took Maimuna to see the movie 50 Shades of Grey at the Silver City movie theater in the east end of Ottawa.
We walked out of the movie theater laughing and smiling, and Maimuna couldn’t shut up about the movie. I wasn’t sure how Maimuna would react, being a conservative Muslim woman and all. Islam and the kinky lifestyle explored in the movie don’t mix, I think. I guess at that point I knew little about Islam, or about women, but Maimuna was about to rectify that, ladies and gentlemen.
What do I mean by that? Just read on, please. We were walking around the Blair shopping center when, suddenly, Maimuna laid her hand on my arm, and thanked me for showing her a wonderful time. I looked into Maimuna’s mesmerizing, golden brown eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. We looked into each other’s eyes, and neither of us said anything. And then, um, we kissed.
Maimuna and I kissed, and it was just a ten-second peck, nothing like what you see in the movies or on TV nowadays. Nevertheless, it was a kiss. I, Stefano Saint-Mathieu, the burly yet shy Haitian dude, kissed Maimuna Jibril, the tall, gorgeous Somali MILF who took my breath away the first time I laid eyes on her. How about that? Grinning nervously, I told Maimuna that she had sweet lips. The lady smiled, and told me that she had much to teach me. I’m in university, as I said before, and when the person teaching me things is a smoking hot Somali lady like Maimuna, I’m an eager learner!
Fawn
- 20.10.2020
- 29
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