My Somali Lesbian Romance

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The name is Adara Ibrahim, and I’m a young black woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I recently graduated from Carleton University with a bachelor’s degree in criminal psychology. Presently I work as an addictions counsellor with the Department of Social Services. That’s a fifty-eight-thousand-dollar-a-year job by the way. I’m only twenty one. My family, made up of my parents, Halima and Kader Mawo and my younger brother Hussein, couldn’t be prouder of me. Unfortunately, there’s a lot about me that they don’t know. I can’t let them find out certain hidden truths about me, lest all hell break loose.

Sometimes I feel like such a fraud, yet I must keep this secret which is eating me up inside. I am a lesbian, and I’ve been one my whole life. Nobody can know about this, otherwise I’m a dead woman. In Islam, it’s not okay to be gay, bisexual or lesbian. If your family finds out, depending on how they feel about such things, you could be in serious danger. I’ve felt sexually attracted to other girls my whole life, but I’ve always hidden it. I always talked about guys and clothes like other normal girls did. I made sure nobody knew I harbored a lust for women.

During my senior year of high school, I went out with a guy named Qasim Bashir. He was half black and half Arab, born to a Somali mother and Yemeni father. I went out with him for three months, then broke it off. I am sorry to say that I only went out with him because I wanted to throw my parents off the scent. I didn’t want them to start wondering about me. My family is fairly liberal, and one of my female cousins, Fatoumatta, is married to a white guy named Arthur “Suleiman” Solomon, who converted to Islam before poker oyna they met. Girls in my family do date, we’re not one of those Somali families where the girls live a super-strict, traditional lifestyle. Still, as liberal as my family is, I knew they weren’t ready for what I was going through.

Three years ago, I went on a trip to the City of Calgary, Alberta, and I met an amazing woman there. Her name is Katrina Khowutzun and she’s a six-foot-tall, slender yet muscular, powerfully built Aboriginal gal from the Cowichan Tribe. At the time we met, Katrina was studying civil engineering at the University of Calgary. Something about this tall young woman with sharp features, dark hair and bronze skin drew me in. I’ve always had a thing for women with dark hair and bronze skin. I once had a crush on this Arab gal named Aisha Mahmoud, whom I met at school. Unfortunately for me, she was totally straight. Oddly enough, Katrina Khowutzun reminded me of Aisha, my first crush. We became friends and slowly but surely, our friendship turned into more.

Katrina was unlike anyone I’ve ever known. This gal was absolutely fearless. She took me horseback riding in the countryside, and introduced me to her friends and family on the Cowichan reservation. Katrina smoked cigarettes, sported no less than fifteen tattoos, and was out and proud as a lesbian. Me? I’m a Hijab-wearing Somali gal in a long-sleeved T-shirt and long skirt. I carry my Koran under my arm when out in public. I don’t smoke or drink, nor do I eat pork. I don’t shake hands with men outside of my immediate family. I pray five times a day. I fast during Ramadan like any good Muslim should. I get quite loud and emotional when people talk trash about canlı poker oyna my religion. I love being a Muslim. And at night, I dream of having sex with other girls.

Katrina told me she knew what I was the moment she laid eyes on me. When she said that, I was kind of surprised. We were chilling under a tree near her house on the Cowichan reservation. Just two young women lying on the grass on a sunny day. I’m a young Somali woman who goes out of the house every day wearing Hijab. People don’t think of me in sexual terms. I don’t have a sexual identity in the eyes of western society. To most people I’m as sexless as a tree or a rock, I told Katrina. You are a sexual being in my eyes, she said with a grin. I smiled. Katrina’s got the most infectious of smiles. Come here, she said, and she pulled me closer with those strong, sculpted arms of hers. Next thing I knew, we were kissing passionately.

How I ended up on the grass, my skirt hiked up, my legs spread, with Katrina licking my pussy and fingering, I’ll never know. All I know is that I wanted her, and what she was doing to me felt oh so good. Her tongue teased my clitoris, and her fingers played sweet music inside my pussy. I lay there, panting and moaning as Katrina worked her magic on me. We made love on the grass, exploring each other’s bodies. I licked her tits and fingered her pussy. She kissed my forehead, smacked my ass and fingered my pussy. Later, she sat on my face and told me to eat her pussy. I’d never gone down on anyone before or tasted a pussy that wasn’t my own but I did the best I could. Not that I needed much encouragement. The smell of Katrina, her proximity to my face, all that pulled me in. I ate her pussy with gusto, internet casino delighting in the experience. I buried my face in her pussy, and soon she was moaning softly and cursing like a sailor. I guess I did my job right! Talk about beginner’s luck!

We had a lot of fun, and afterwards Katrina and I showered together. We made love again that night, and on quite a few occasions before I left Alberta for Ontario. I wanted to stay with Katrina and her Aboriginal friends and family. They’re a friendly, open-minded people. It’s a shame that the Canadian government treats Aboriginal Canadians and First Nations people like shit. I promised myself two things as I boarded the plane. One, I would come back to see Katrina someday. Two, I would definitely help Natives/Aboriginals in some capacity in the near future. I’m a Somali woman, my people are hated by the Canadian government too. They’re afraid of Islam because the Arabs, Turks, Somalis, Pakistanis, Berbers, Senegalese, Gambians and others are in full force in Canada and we’re having tons of offspring. In the future, white people will be a minority in Canada. Just wait and see.

I went back to my family and friends in Ottawa, but I never forgot Katrina. We kept in touch via Facebook and Skype, and we talked on the phone…a lot. I missed her sorely. Which is why I was happy and shocked when she told me she was coming to Ottawa to visit her aunt Gertrude. I went to pick her up at the airport. When I saw her standing there, holding her travel bag, my heart leapt. All those feelings I had for her came back, and I rushed to her. I just grabbed Katrina and started kissing her. I don’t know who was more surprised, her or me. Though a bit hesitant, Katrina kissed me back passionately. For a long moment we held each other tenderly. You should have seen the look on people’s faces when they saw the two of us kissing and holding hands. Let’s get out of here, I told Katrina, who smiled.

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