Bisexual Playground
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Eritrean Girl For Bisexual Man free porn video
Ladies and gentlemen, the discoveries we make about our significant others quite often change the way we feel about them. Sometimes, that can actually be a good thing. Yesterday I discovered something in my boyfriend Solomon Al-Rashid’s apartment which forever changed my opinion of him. I’ve always thought of men from the African and Arab worlds as macho, dominant and not terribly concerned with women’s rights. It’s as much a cultural thing as it is a religious norm over there.
To be Middle-Eastern or Sub-Saharan African is to believe in patriarchy and male domination. That’s the predominant attitude down there. Christian or Muslim, men from those parts of the world aren’t too advanced when it comes to their views of women. I found myself drawn to such men partly because the feminist in me saw them as the ultimate challenge. And in Solomon Al-Rashid, I thought I had found a worthy challenge indeed. I’m the kind of woman who likes to tame a macho man, bring him to his knees and show him who’s the fucking boss. Especially handsome and cocky men like Solomon who are clearly used to getting their way.
Solomon Al-Rashid was born in the town of Baalbek, Republic of Lebanon, to a Nigerian Catholic mother and Lebanese Christian father. His parents moved to the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario, a decade after his birth. I met Solomon at Ryerson University and found myself immediately drawn to him. He was six feet two inches tall, well-built and handsome, with light brown skin, curly Black hair and hazel eyes. With a last name like Al-Rashid, I thought he was a Muslim for sure and was surprised to discover that he was a Christian. I didn’t know much about the Republic of Lebanon until I met Solomon and had no idea that forty percent of the Lebanese population, including the President of Lebanon, was Christian. How about that? Arab Christians in the Middle East. Wow. I thought they existed only in the Coptic communities of Egypt.
CNN did a documentary on the plight of Coptic Christians in Egypt as the Islamist parties came to power after the Arab Spring. Poor bastards. Sometimes I wish the United Nations and the European Union would open their eyes and realize that in many Muslim nations, Christians and other religious minorities were hounded daily. Too often we hear about Muslims in our mainly Christian and deeply progressive Western societies fighting for their rights even though for the most part, they’re treated fairly. By sharp contrast Christians in Muslim societies got the shaft. Does that seem fair to you? Sorry to go all political on you, but I am a political science major after all.
Oh, silly me. It seems that in all of the excitement I forgot to properly introduce myself. My name is Mariam Berhane and I was born and raised in the City of Mendefera in the Debub region of the State of Eritrea. My father, Abraham Berhane is a Pastor with the Eritrean Orthodox Church as well as the Chief of Police in our hometown of Mendefera. I love my dad. It’s where my personal strength and love of firearms come from. My mother Fatima Dawit is a Somali national who moved to Eritrea while fleeing persecution in her old homeland and converted to Christianity after finally moving to a land where religious freedom is the law.
My mother told me a lot of things about her old life in Somaliland. The brutal things that Somali men did to Somali women in the name of Islamist patriarchal domination. And Somali women simply went along with it because they didn’t know any better. My mother raised me to be a strong woman and told me to never submit to any man’s will. Men were nothing without women. Islam taught men that women were inferior creatures. Two things mattered to me more than anything, my feminist identity and my faith in Christianity. It’s the best religion out there if you’re a woman. Trust me on that one. All others treat womankind like shit. Many Muslim women will tell you different, please don’t believe them. They are so brainwashed they’ve convinced themselves that the things that are done to them are fine and just. Female circumcision, honor killings, and religiously justifiable spousal battering are NOT okay in the twenty-first century.
When my parents sent me to study in the Province of Ontario, Canada, I was initially apprehensive. I wanted to study at the Eritrea Institute of Technology and become a civil engineer like my mother before me. Sadly, this wasn’t meant to be. It appeared that my destiny lay elsewhere. I didn’t want to leave my beloved State of Eritrea. I wanted to stay and help my country develop. Still, I knew that Canada might afford me opportunities that other young men and women living in the State of Eritrea might never get so I seized the moment, so to speak. Thus I set out on an adventure to the continent of North America. Just a young Black woman with a dream. It was a journey which would forever change my life.
In Ontario, Canada, I discovered a brand new world. One that I could only imagine, once upon a time. I enrolled at Ryerson University as an international student and fell in love with campus life and the City of Toronto itself. I made lots of friends from all over. So many beautiful and intelligent young women from around the world. I had crushes on a few of them. My friend Eva is from Florence, Italy. My buddy Jasmine is from Wales, Australia. My good friend Henrietta is from Kano, Nigeria. Yeah, Ryerson University was a racially and culturally diverse school. One of the best in North America. It’s at that school that I met the man who changed my life forever. The tall, handsome and cocky but infuriatingly charming Solomon Al-Rashid. The love of my life.
The first time I laid eyes on Solomon Al-Rashid, I thought he was hot. I also wanted to smack him. We were in sociology class together, and he was sitting in the back with his buddies, a couple of Black guys and an Arab dude. The professor was going on and on about the prestigious position of women in western societies. Solomon joked with his buddies, saying that the only time women should be on top was during sex. I got on his case for that, calling him a sexist pig. Solomon laughed and actually oinked. I couldn’t believe it! Ignoring me, he continued chatting with his pals.
Oh, this fool had to be stopped. Hell no. I would show him that he couldn’t just ignore me like that. I walked up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder. Solomon stared at me, stunned. Clearly he wasn’t used to having a woman challenge him this way. I told him without mincing words that if he didn’t shut his sexist pie hole, I’d smack him. THAT shut him up. But only for a minute. Looking me up and down, he told me that he was used to hot women who couldn’t keep their hands off him. Then he smirked, exchanged dap with his friend, and went back to chatting. I walked away, scoffing at such immaturity. And these guys were university men? Oh, please!
The next time I ran into Solomon, I was at the university library, working on a project. Solomon approached me and when I bristled at the sight of him, he made the peace sign with his fingers. Then, looking me in the eye and smiling, he apologized. I looked at him, secretly marveling at his unique good looks and wondering what in hell he wanted. Solomon smiled, and asked me if he could sit at the computer next to mine. I flashed him my teeth and told him they were free for all students. Solomon cocked an eyebrow, and plopped down on the seat next to me. Then he cracked open his Facebook account, and asked me for my name and number. I told him my name but not my number. Sorry, but I don’t give out my number like that. No matter how good-looking the brother.
Solomon looked pensive for a moment, then he apologized. When I asked him what he was apologizing for, he smiled and told me that he didn’t mean to offend me because of my sexual orientation. I almost hit him. What the fuck? Now he thinks I’m gay? Oh, I am so going to smack this fool. Sometimes I hate guys but I’m not a fucking dyke. Word up. I’m a cock-loving, cock-r
iding, one-hundred-percent woman. Thank you very much. Um, these words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. Solomon looked at me, and smirked. I looked past him, and noticed that students were looking at us. Oh, shit. Did I just blurt those things out loud in the library? Apparently so. Damn that Solomon!
I stood there, flustered. Solomon gently took my arm, and asked me to join him for coffee. I don’t know why but I accepted. We went to this little café located right next to the Ryerson University library. Once there, we had a fairly interesting chat over coffee. Solomon was fairly interesting and quite intelligent. We talked about many things, from the aftermath of the Arab Spring in the Middle East, the American presidential election and the rise of xenophobia in Canada and Europe. Solomon told me that he was an Obama supporter. When I asked him what he liked about the U.S. President, Solomon laughed and told me he supported Michelle Obama, for being a fine-looking lady, and not Barack. I laughed at that. In an odd way it’s still kind of funny.
And that’s how it all began. My shocking fascination with Solomon, which turned out to be mutual. The guy was cute and sexy and got on my blasted nerves sometimes, but he was alright. Soon we began seeing each other. I surprised many people, including myself, by dating the kind of guy who seemed the exact opposite of everything that I stood for. One of my girlfriends accused me of sleeping with the enemy. I laughed at that. Solomon wasn’t what most people thought he was. Although he acted like a playboy in front of his friends, he was kind and friendly and sweet when he was with me. I’d like to think he was his true self with me and that he put up a front with his friends. As usual, I was right but I had no idea how right I was.
One afternoon, I visited Solomon’s place ( he’d given me a key early on in our relationship) and thought I’d surprise him by leaving a few surprises for him in his apartment. Well, I’m the one who ended up getting surprised. In a drawer in Solomon’s bedroom, I found some interesting DVDs. Titles like ‘Black Men like Strapons Too’ along with ‘Strapon Black Ball Buster’ and ‘Black Bi Party’ led me to think that my superbly macho and apparently heterosexual boyfriend had a hidden side to himself. Next to the DVDs I found a diary. I read it through and through. I couldn’t help myself. It was forty pages long and I devoured it. In the diary, Solomon chronicled his struggle with his bisexuality. He just couldn’t reconcile it with his Maronite Christian upbringing.
Lying on Solomon’s bed, invading his privacy, that’s what I did. What kind of girlfriend am I? I finished reading the diary and put it back in its place, along with the DVDs. I lay on Solomon’s bed, my mind racing. My handsome Afro-Arabian stud is bisexual. Solomon, the most manly guy on the Ryerson University campus. The rugby team’s top star. Wow. Well, as much as it surprised me, it didn’t bother me. I still love Solomon and I want to be with him. I want him to be happy. That’s why I’m going to talk to him about what he’s been keeping from me, without judging him. Or accusing him of anything. This is going to be delicate work. I have to do this. I want him to know that it’s okay to be bisexual. Hell, I experimented with a couple of women back in the day. It’s not the end of the world. I want my man to be honest with himself and with me. And I want to be with him always. Wish me luck.
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