Somali Tomboy For Haitian Stud

Footjob

A lot of brothers and sisters out there get uppity with other Black folk when they achieve a certain level of education and success. I’m happy to say that I am not that type of person, thanks in part to the influence of my lady love, Laila Jama. The six-foot-tall, gorgeous Somali lady who recently accepted my marriage proposal used to work as a security guard at The Emerald Tower in Gloucester, Ontario, where I work in the customer service department of a vast call center.

Before we go any further, my name is Emmanuel Patrick Germain. These days I am also called Brother Ismail, and I’ll get to the reason why real soon. First, though, a little about me, the hero of this here piece. Got one helluva story to share with you. I am writing these lines both to share lessons that I have learned, and also to warn you of the price we pay for hubris.

I was born in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to a Haitian immigrant father and a French Canadian mother. I graduated from Concordia University with a bachelor’s degree in business in 2013, and moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, looking for work. I ended up working at Tim Horton’s, like so many highly educated recent grads who just can’t find work in their fields.

The Emerald Tower stands tall in Gloucester, overlooking the east end of Ottawa, Ontario, and from the seventeenth floor, one can see for miles in every direction. I like the view from the top. From that vantage point I can see Blair Station and the Blair Shopping Center, and even the Silver City movie theater. It’s a favorite hangout for my lady Laila and I, by the way.

Anyhow, after working at Tim Horton’s and getting insulted and demeaned on a daily basis by angry, impatient clients, I was feeling very lousy. While surfing the web at the Ottawa Main Library on Metcalfe Street during my lunch break, I came across an ad for The Emerald Tower. They were looking for bilingual call center operators, and offered free training for those who qualified. Oh, and the job pays seventeen dollars an hour to start, no uniform required, only business casual attire.

Well, that sounded good to me and I applied. A week later I went to the Emerald Tower for an interview, and got hired. I loved my new job, where I got to wear a suit and tie, and I met with other educated and successful people, instead of the riffraff I was used to dealing with as a Tim Horton’s worker in downtown Ottawa. With my enthusiasm, people skills and flair for business, I quickly rose within the ranks. I became a dedicated worker, and soon got promoted to assistant manager in the customer service department. Not bad, considering I’d only been there for a little over a year, eh?

The good thing about working at the Emerald Tower is that they have a fairly diverse workforce. I saw lots of Nigerians, Somalis, Lebanese, Syrians and Chinese people among the people I encountered at work every day. As a tall, good-looking biracial man ( who identifies as Black ) I was initially worried about sticking out like a sore thumb. The Emerald Tower was a fairly progressive environment to work in, this I must admit.

The City of Ottawa isn’t as diverse as Montreal and people in the Capital are fairly conservative, and in their own way, quite bigoted. They smile at you a lot but you don’t know what’s in their passive-aggressive little hearts. I don’t trust Ottawa people as far as I can throw them. I still shudder with rage when I think of what I overheard two old white guys say in the elevator. The two bozos were talking about P.K. Subban, the Black defenceman for the Montreal Canadiens of the National Hockey League.

Recently, P.K. Subban got in a bit of trouble for allegedly slashing at one of the white dudes from the Ottawa Senators professional hockey team. A lot of people across Canada were hating on P.K. Subban for that, but honestly, I saw right through their bullshit. They’re mad that a talented brother who rocks the NHL took a swipe at one of their precious white dudes. They wouldn’t have made half that much fuss if it had been the other way around.

I’m glad that Black Canadian professional hockey player P.K. Subban scores major points güvenilir bahis for the Montreal Canadiens, and I hope he keeps on playing and winning. Show them overly entitled, racist white dudes what a strong Black man can do! Yeah, I’m that brother who walks around the City of Ottawa wearing a P.K. Subban jersey and I don’t apologize for it, not even on game day.

By the way, on the same night that those two white creeps from work were hating on P.K. Subban, he scored a major goal for the Montreal Canadiens and helped them win over the Ottawa Senators. I seriously wish I could have seen these losers faces afterwards. Anyhow, I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was telling you about my job at the Emerald Tower, and how I met my future bride Laila Jama.

There’s a large security team that handles both halves of the Emerald Tower. These men and women were blue shirts with their company logo and black pants, and they guard the entrance of the buildings, grant and deny access to people, and overall, look after us. A lot of my co-workers wonder why we need security in the first place but I for one like them. One of the security guys, Stephen, is a hard-working brother from Jamaica who is studying part-time at Algonquin College.

While a lot of my colleagues thumb their noses at the security people and cleaners that look after the Emerald Tower, I talk to these people all the time and make friends with them. It wasn’t that long ago that I was a recent university graduate working at Tim Horton’s to avoid becoming homeless. Now I make twenty five dollars per hour, and live in a nice building in Gloucester but I will never forget those days when I was struggling.

One day, while in the cafeteria, I sat there, sipping coffee while browsing Facebook on my iPhone. That’s when a vision of beauty walked in. A tall, gorgeous woman clad in a short-sleeved blue work shirt, black cargo pants and black boots. The woman’s hair was neatly tucked away under a Hijab, and she walked to the counter, ordered herself a sandwich and a Pepsi, then went to sit at a table not far from mine.

Now, everyone on the security team is over forty and white, with the exception of my Haitian buddy Stephen, and there’s nine men and two women on it. I thought I knew all of them and wondered who this absolutely beautiful stranger of the feminine persuasion might be. This tall, lovely woman had Somali written all over her.

Sensing me looking at her, the young Somali woman looked up and our eyes met. I expected her to look away but she held my gaze. Smiling, the young Somali woman waved, and I smiled back shyly. For some reason, that fearless smile on the young Somali woman’s lovely face made my heart skip a beat. I finished my meal, smiled and nodded at her then walked away. Don’t ask.

For the rest of the day, I sat at my cubicle, fielding calls, and I was absolutely distracted. I kept thinking of the tall, pretty Somali woman in the cafeteria. The face of an angel, a body that porn stars would envy, and a most mesmerizing ass. Mama’s got an ass on her! As the young guys would say, I most definitely wanted some of that.

Three days later, something amazing happened. There’s an asshole named Wellington something or other who worked in the sales department. You’ve met the type before. One of those white guys who hate minorities, and worship Prime Minister Stephen Harper, and agree with the Conservative viewpoint that people of color should be mass-deported from Canada. Well, the dude finally crossed the line with his racist bullshit and got canned.

I overheard shouting down the hallway as I exited the lunchroom after eating some Shawarma which I ordered from Shawarma King, the best restaurant in Ottawa. I saw Wellington and he was making a fuss and the tall Somali gal from before, attired in a security uniform and overcoat, was trying to calm him down. Wellington glared at her the way I might look at a cockroach I see in my living room, and looked like he might take a swing at her.

When you’re a visible minority male working in Canada, you’ve got to be careful around the legions of racist white guys out there. You have to pick türkçe bahis your battles. Still, I wasn’t about to stand by and let this creep hit a woman. I intervened, and tackled Wellington just as he got ready to strike the Somali female security guard. Down we went, and we struggled, and that’s when the rest of the security team showed up.

They’d been notified about Wellington’s belligerence and were on their way to deal with him. The police had also been notified. I handed Wellington over to them, then I asked the tall, pretty Somali security lady if she was alright. The visibly shocked young woman smiled and nodded, and just as I was about to ask for her name, the cops showed up. The cops arrested Wellington, and I explained the whole thing to Ms. Patricia Williams, my manager, and the incident was swept under the rug. Wellington was permanently banned from the building, and I was the office hero for a day or two. That’s cool, right?

Well, I still didn’t know the name of the tall Somali security lady, so that sucks. What’s a guy to do in this situation? I asked my buddy Stephen and he told me that Laila Jama, the Somali female security guard, was considering quitting. Apparently, she was new to working security and the Wellington incident stunned her. Like the concerned citizen that I am, concerned only for the lady’s safety, I asked Stephen about her.

Stephen thrilled me to no end when he told me that Laila Jama, the tall Somali gal, was his friend on Facebook. I added Stephen on Facebook, for, ahem, networking purposes, and then crept through his friends list for Laila Jama. I found her easily enough, and the lovely lady’s profile fascinated me. Laila Jama was born on November 9, 1988, which surprised me because this meant she was a year older than me. I guess Black women really do age differently from the rest of us.

I came into the world on February 7, 1989, if you’re wondering. I’m a proud Aquarius, with all that implies. Laila Jama is a fiery Scorpio, and the lady is studying chemistry at Carleton University, according to her profile. Well, can you fault me for sending her a friend request? I sat at my computer and smiled with satisfaction and admiration as I browsed through Laila Jama’s profile.

The lovely Somali lady had a lot of pictures. My favorite? The one of her on the beach, in a bright red bikini. Can you say hotness? Apparently, Laila Jama is a part-time Hijabi. A naughty thought crept into my mind as I visualized Laila on the beach, wearing a bra, panties…and Hijab. Instantly I got a boner, and smiled wickedly. As I drifted into a lusty daydream, Laila Jama added me as a friend. How cool is that?

Laila Jama and I became friends on Facebook, and I played the role of the concerned and chivalrous citizen inquiring about the lady’s health after that harrowing incident of workplace violence, and Laila Jama fell for it completely. Am I good or what? I asked for her number, and got it, and that’s how it all began. Alright, initially, I just wanted a piece of Laila Jama’s mesmerizing Somali ass, but the lady, and Fate, had other plans for yours truly.

The thing about Somali chicks, especially the overtly religious type that wears the Hijab 24/7, is that they’re a mysterious and fascinating but also compelling lot. They know how to draw you in. For Laila Jama and I, it began with coffee dates and casual hangouts at the local Tim Horton’s ( which I hated, for obvious reasons ) and movie outings at Silver City ( which I loved ). The more I got to know Laila, the more fascinated I became.

Things got really dicey at work because, well, romances in the Canadian workplace are a bad idea, but Laila and I didn’t give a damn. I couldn’t get enough of my sexy Somali goddess, as I called her. One night, we had a quickie at work, in the basement of Ottawa Deux building, as we affectionately call the second half of the Emerald Tower. It was Laila’s idea, alright? This Hijab-wearing Somali Muslim gal is freakier than I ever thought possible.

Laila led me to a secluded area of the Emerald Tower basement, and there, away from the cameras, we got our freak on. For extra privacy, we güvenilir bahis siteleri went into the washroom after putting the “closed” sign on it. I kissed Laila Jama passionately, and then hoisted her up on the washroom counter. Laila unbuttoned her blue security shirt, and my hands tentatively reached for her small, perky breasts.

Smiling, I kissed first one breast, then the other, while Laila giggled softly. I looked into her golden brown eyes and kissed my way from Laila’s breasts to her slightly rounded belly, and then Laila unzipped her black cargo pants, and I grinned when I noticed that my favorite Hijabi wasn’t wearing any underwear. I mean, Laila’s hairy cunt stared at me, and I stared right back…hungrily.

With a teasing smile on her lovely face, Laila Jama spread her thick, shapely thighs invitingly. I brought my face closer to Laila’s pussy, and inhaled her womanly scent. Smiling with satisfaction, I buried my face between Laila’s legs, and began eating that pussy like a hungry man. There’s something about going down on a female for the first time, folks. When you’re tasting her sweetness, or pungent, whatever the case may be. Nothing quite like it.

Laila Jama moaned softly as I ate that sweet, hot pussy of hers. My first time going down on a Somali Muslim woman, to tell you the truth. I’ve been with white girls and Haitian girls and even a Chinese chick or two, but never a Muslim gal. Especially not the Hijab-wearing variety like Laila here. Sticking my tongue on her clitoris and teasing her pussy with my fingers, I worked Laila over. I licked Laila’s cunt with gusto, and delighted to hear her cry out in pleasure, orgasmic, much later.

Filled with inspiration, I asked a panting, sighing Laila if she’d ever had her ass licked. Laila shook her head and I smiled. Moments later, I put Laila on all fours and my Somali goddess spread her thick brown ass cheeks wide open and stuck my tongue into her asshole. Laila giggled nervously as I began munching on her sweaty asshole. A lot of guys balk at a little ass funk but not yours truly. I love the taste of female ass.

Later, I had Laila ride my face and was delighted when she smothered my face with that thick brown ass of hers. Afterwards, I rolled a condom on my long and thick, uncircumcised ( and staying that way ) dick and pushed it into Laila’s cunt. Wrapping her strong arms around me, Laila urged me to fuck her harder. Well, that’s all the encouragement a brother like me actually needs.

I thrust into Laila’s pussy with gusto, loving the feeling of warmth and tightness all around me. Laila cried out as I made love to her, and we totally got lost in the moment. I buried my manhood inside of her, and Laila’s fingernails dug into my back, practically ripping through my shirt, but I didn’t care. We continued what we were doing, passionately, until I came, rather violently.

I looked into Laila’s eyes and was about to say something when we heard a knock on the door. I panicked, but Laila quickly came up with a plan. Quickly she readjusted her clothes, once more the picture of the perfect security professional. Laila went to the door, and calmly told the cleaner to come back later, as she was inspecting something, and the cleaner went away. Smiling at me, Laila told me the coast was clear. I looked at Laila, astonished by this woman’s intelligence, beauty, passion and creativity.

I pulled Laila Jama into my arms and kissed her, and then we parted ways. I returned to my cubicle upstairs, and I was all smiles for the rest of the night. I returned home determined to make some changes. I’ve fallen for Laila, you see. We became more serious about each other, and things got dicey because security guards and clients aren’t supposed to mix at the Emerald Tower. Something about conflicts of interest, and all that shit.

What’s a guy to do? Well, at the Emerald Tower, if you recruit someone into the company, you get a bonus. Well, I recruited Laila, and things worked out perfectly. Laila Jama quit the security team and got hired by the Sales Department, the same one that racist creep Wellington got fired from. Me? I’m in customer service. We’re still seeing each other, and in fact, we met each other’s families. I even converted to Islam, and I am loving the faith as I discover more about it day by day with Laila Jama by my side. All’s well that ends well, wouldn’t you say?

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