1 comments/ 6183 views/ 1 favorites Saudi Girls Into Black Americans By: Samuelx Everyone is always talking about African women's bottoms, and what masterpieces they are. Well, as an Arab woman with a nice derriere, I secretly resent that. Women from my ethnicity are wonderfully curvaceous, and lag behind no one when it comes to gluteus maximus, but that's a closely guarded secret. We're forced to hide our tremendous assets from the male gaze due to the rules of Islamic modesty. My name is Rabia Al-Sharif and I'm a young woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I'm here to set the record straight about that, and modern Arab female sexuality, among other things. I'm five-foot-nine, curvy and lovely, with dark bronze skin, long curly black hair and golden brown eyes. Typically I wear brightly colored T-shirts and skin-tight jeans or short skirts that showcase my sexy legs and heart-shaped behind when I leave the house. Got to look classy but sexy, that's my motto when it comes to clothes in general. I recently obtained my motorcycle licence and I'm an avid rider. I purchased a bright crimson Ducati motorcycle. No matter where one hails from, there will always be stereotypes that one cannot escape. Take my friend and roommate Amelia Rodriguez for example. We met during my first week at the University of Ottawa and I was surprised at how much Latin Americans resemble us Arabs. I thought Amelia was Lebanese until she told me that she was of Brazilian and Nigerian descent, born and raised in the environs of Manaus, somewhere in Brazil. What a shocker. "You look so Arab it's not even funny," I told Amelia, who hesitated, then laughed. Relief washed over me, for I thought I might have inadvertently offended her. Shrugging casually, Amelia shook her head. "In Ottawa I get that a lot but I am actually mixed Brazilian," she replied. Damn, I didn't even know the gal had black in her but Amelia assured me that most people in Brazil had some African blood in their lineage somewhere, mixed with Native American and European, of course. "Wow, an authentic Brazilian woman, in the flesh," I said, shaking my head while looking Amelia over, quietly amazed. I expected her to be wild and lively since that's what I heard about Brazilians, but Amelia turned out to be quite shy and rather quiet, the way my parents sometimes wish I were. I've always been a handful, a far cry from the serene, pious and obedient Muslim gal they raised me to be. When you think of a Saudi Arabian woman, I bet you're thinking of the stereotype of the shy, repressed woman wearing the burka, fearing the dictatorship of the males of her family, and constantly lamenting her lot in life as a citizen of the world's most conservative nation. I bet you're not thinking of me, the rebel who shuns the burka and the hijab, and likes to race on the 417 Highway, heedless of the danger from oncoming traffic or the speeding tickets gleefully handed to me by grim-faced RCMP officers. I like to live on the edge, what can I say? A lot of people in this world take life for granted, and don't appreciate what they have until it's gone. I am not such a person. I was born in the City of Safwa, eastern Saudi Arabia. My parents, Bahir and Tahirah Al-Sharif were part of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia's Shiite minority. If you know anything about Islam, then you'll know that being a Shiite Muslim in a mostly Sunni country, especially one as religious as Saudi Arabia, isn't exactly good for one's health. My father was an active critic of the Saudi royal family's excesses, and firmly believed that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was headed in the wrong direction. To Shiite Muslims, the prophet Mohammed, founder of Islam, isn't the Seal of the Prophets but the predecessor of a coming figure called the Mahdi. We believe that the Mahdi will unite the Islamic world, defeat the forces of evil and lead us to total conquest of the entire world. To Sunni Muslims, that's sacrilege and they've been persecuting us Shiites for centuries. Very few Muslim countries have majority Shiite populations, Iran being one prime example. What does that have to do with my family? Well, my father was a devoted follower of a controversial Shiite preacher named Suleiman Akbar, who thought himself the Mahdi. They fell on the List, that insidious list of people whom the Saudi royal authorities consider to be troublemakers. Suleiman Akbar was assassinated, and his followers rounded up and either imprisoned or executed. As for my father, he fled with my mother and I to Canada. That magical place that so many refugees flock to every year. I was only four at the time. The year was 1996. We've been living in Ontario, Canada, ever since. Adjusting to Canada after a lifetime in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia wasn't easy for my parents. Hardship and constant disputes drove them apart. Eventually, they got divorced. I was in the ninth grade at the time. I know this sounds cold but divorce is the best thing that could have happened to them. Some people simply weren't meant to stay together. In the Islamic world, we have marriages of convenience for the most part. Dad now drives a cab for Capital Taxi and spends much of his free time in the By Ward Market, either drinking in bars or bedding prostitutes. As for my mother, she lives in Gatineau, with a middle-aged Yemeni guy named Rafiq. I don't know if he's her friend, roommate or lover, or all three. And to be honest, I don't give a damn. I love my parents and I respect them but they've got their lives to live, and I've got mine. At the end of the day, only Allah can judge any of us. Two sundays ago, I went to Mansion, a night club in downtown Ottawa, with Amelia by my side. It was her twentieth birthday and I didn't want her to spend it alone in her room at our apartment in Sandy Hill. "You need to stop living like an old lady and start having fun," I told Amelia, grabbing her by the arm as took her outside. "We'll see," Amelia said, in that shy yet mysterious way of hers, clearly unaware of how sexy she looked in a low-cut red dress. We hopped on my motorcycle and headed to Rideau Street. While shaking my ass on the Mansion dance floor, I saw a vision of masculine beauty. Tall, dark and handsome, clad in a light purple silk shirt and black silk pants. One fine and strongly built brother, whom all the girls in the club couldn't help noticing. "Check out this cutie," I told Amelia, pointing her in the chocolate prince's direction. "He's fine alright," Amelia remarked, and smiled. I was already moving toward my target. I smiled at him flirtatiously, noted the quiet confidence he exuded, and decided I wanted this fish for myself. I cockily went to the bar, and 'accidentally' bumped into Mr. Sexy, and apologized profusely for my clumsiness. "It's alright ma'am," he said, and I noted his distinct accent. The dude was clearly not from Ottawa. He didn't sound like the continental African immigrants I ran into from time to time in the clubs either. "Where are you from?" I asked, looking into his handsome face. Mr. Sexy flashed me a movie star smile. "Born and raised in Buffalo, New York, ma'am," he said proudly. I licked my lips. "Welcome to Ottawa I'm Rabia, originally from Saudi Arabia," I said, and offered him my sleek, well-manicured hand to shake. Mr. Sexy shook my hand. Dude had a firm grip. Not crushing, just firm enough. "I'm Tyrese Montrose," he said, and flashed that smile again. He offered me a drink, and I happily accepted. "So what brings a man from Buffalo to Ottawa?" I asked Tyrese, my curiosity getting the better of me. "A fresh start as far as school and work and a desire to get away from family drama," Tyrese said, a haunted look on his face. His eyes met mine, and all the coyness I felt inside drained from me. I knew where I had seen such a look before, a look of raw, elemental pain. "I can totally relate," I said grimly, smiling sadly at Tyrese. Slowly he nodded. "Next drink's on me," I said, downing my cup's contents in one gulp and not caring that it was unladylike. Out of the corner of my eyes I noticed Amelia talking to a short-haired, tattooed, downright masculine woman clad in dark leather. So that's why Miss Brazil never seemed interested in guys, I thought wickedly. I looked at Tyrese, and smiled. "Let's dance," he said, and I happily accepted. Moments later, Tyrese and I hit the dance floor. The guy was smooth and graceful, and I felt good in his arms. "You're a good dancer," Tyrese whispered into my ear. I looked at him and smiled. "You got no idea," I said suggestively, licking my full red lips for emphasis. I honestly don't remember how I ended up in Tyrese's bed, but I'm glad I got there. As it turns out, the American stud from Buffalo, New York, lives in an apartment building on King Edward Street, within walking distance of Mansion night club. Once we got to his place, Tyrese and I had some fun. I hadn't been with a man since my former lover, Jean Abdullah, a Lebanese Christian guy, asked me to move in with him and I ditched him to keep my independence. "You're unlike anyone I've ever known," I told Tyrese as he laid me on his king-sized bed, and gazed lustfully at my naked body. After taking off my dress, and tossing aside bra and panties, I stretched luxuriously on Tyrese's bright blue and red, "Superman"-themed bed sheets, and spread my legs wide open, exposing my hairy cunt. "I've always wondered what you Arab women were like," Tyrese said, as he kissed my left foot then began sucking on my toes. "We're wild and freaky like any other women don't let the hijabs and burkas fool you," I told Tyrese, licking my lips. Grinning, Tyrese kissed a path from my toes to my inner thigh, and finally brought his mouth to my cunt lips. He suck his tongue inside me, and I shuddered with pleasure as Tyrese began fingering and licking my cunt. "You taste wonderful," Tyrese said, pausing to look at me before he resumed pleasing me orally. "Love a man who goes downtown," I said, gently rubbing my breasts together. Tyrese licked and fingered my pussy for a long time, his mouth exploring my mound's innermost walls, and leaving me panting weakly as I called out his name. "Fuck yeah lick my awrah," I squealed, and Tyrese licked me up, flicking his tongue over my clit while thrusting two fingers inside my pussy. Dude definitely took me to the edge, leaving me quivering with pleasure, and I absolutely loved it. Once I recovered, I was quite eager to return the favor. "Your turn sexy man," I said, grabbing Tyrese's dick and balls and pulling him towards me. "Slow down sexy lady," he said, grinning. I got on my knees before the chocolate stud and took his erect dick in my hand, holding it at eye level for a good look. I never go down on a guy without first inspecting his, ahem, hardware. Would you buy a car or even rent one without first inspecting it? I think not. Tyrese was well-endowed, not ridiculously so, but a good size. I also noticed that he was uncircumcised. Wow, two firsts in one night. My first American and my first uncut man. Tyrese isn't my first black guy, though. That honor belongs to an Ethiopian guy named Abraham whom I knew in high school. "Yummy," I said, and took Tyrese's dick into my mouth. Tyrese lay on the bed, looking totally calm, cool and collected as I fellated him. "Just like that sweetie," he murmured, gently running his big hands through my hair as I went down on him. I sucked him real good, licking the length of his shaft and going further down, licking his balls and even lifting them so I could lick underneath them. I like the way a man's balls smell and taste. I don't know why. "Like that?" I paused to ask Tyrese, noticing that his breath was coming out slowly. "Hell yeah babe," Tyrese said, and I resumed what I was doing. I sucked his dick and pumped my hand up and down his shaft until he came, and man did he shout loudly as he reached the magic moment. "Oh shit that's it right there," Tyrese moaned, and in a moment of inspired wickedness, I shoved my middle finger up his ass as he came. Dude shot his load all over the place. Got a bit on my face, but I didn't mind. I just don't like sperm in my eyes. It, um, stings. Happily I licked Tyrese's cum, tasting the fruit of my labor. "Totally yummy," I noted, and licked up every last drop. "Damn that was awesome," Tyrese said, laughing and caressing me. His hands went from my face to my breasts, and finally settled on my ass. "Like my big Saudi booty?" I grinned, looking into Tyrese's eyes. "Yes ma'am," he said, all proper and everything. "Don't just touch it when you could fuck it," I teased, and Tyrese grinned broadly as he reached for the condoms on his nightstand. I helped him roll a Magnum on his thick member. Then I straddled him. "Show me what you got American," I whispered into Tyrese's ear. Grinning, Tyrese smacked my ass and pressed his hard dick against my cunt. I lowered myself until I impaled my wet, eager pussy on his cock. "Hell yeah," I said, resting my hands on Tyrese's broad shoulders as I began riding him. Not sure for how long Tyrese and I went at it but it was truly one for the ages. At some point I ended up on all fours, face down and ass up, as Tyrese took me on his bedroom floor. "Just like that big man," I yelped as Tyrese grabbed my hair and smacked my big butt while slamming his dick into my cunt from behind. "Damn you got a tight pussy," Tyrese remarked. I smiled, inwardly thankful for my pussy-tightening exercises. I'm not a size queen but what woman doesn't prefer to go for Mr. Big when she can? When all was said and done, Tyrese and I came at least three times, and I woke up in his bed, lying in a sea of dried sweat and my own juices. Oh, and his, as well. Things weren't awkward, though. Tyrese was polite and friendly, and let me shower before I left. "What if I want to see you again?" Tyrese asked, as I came out of the shower, wrapped in one of his blue towels. I considered that. Lots of guys out there are exploring their sexuality, and hooking up with random women just for fun. Hell, some guys are hooking up with both men AND women for fun. I'm only into guys but who says a young woman can't have her casual fun? "Tyrese you're sexy and smart but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," I said as politely as I could. What is it about us Saudi women that drives men absolutely nuts? Tyrese has All-American man-about-town written all over him. I'm certain he's brought tons of women back to his place for some casual fun. Surely he didn't get attached to any of them? "I'm starting in the MBA program at Carleton University this September. I just transferred from Canisius College and I don't know anybody in this town own," Tyrese said, licking his full, sensual lips. Tyrese looked so sweet saying these things that he made my heart skip a beat. All the more reason for me to get the fuck out of his nicely decorated two-bedroom apartment. "Cute guy like you will be a hit with all the girls on campus," I said, and unhurriedly got dressed right in front of Tyrese. I grabbed my purse, and walked up to him. "Can I get your number?" Tyrese asked. I smiled at him and licked my lips suggestively, and watched Tyrese's handsome beam with hope. Then I crushed it. "I'll take yours," I said smugly, looking him up and down. "It's like that Miss Saudi?" Tyrese said, smiling as I stood inches from him. Dude was disappointed and trying to play it cool. Got to admire his persistence. I leaned over and kissed Tyrese. Just a quick peck on the lips. "It's like that Mr. America," I said, smiling, then took the card he offered me and headed for the door. When I got home, I certainly had a story to share with Amelia, but my favorite little biracial Brazilian wasn't alone. I spotted a tall, tattooed chick walking out of the kitchen. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked. The gal eyed me coolly. "I'm Spike, who are you?" she said. That's when Amelia came out of the washroom, a smug look on her face. "Morning Rabia," she said, wrapping her arms around Spike, who kissed her. "What a world," I said, smiling. Amelia smiled at me and shrugged. "It's about time Miss Brazil here got laid," I said, nodding to Spike. I went to my room, grabbed my school books and headed to my eleven o'clock Business Accounting class at the University of Ottawa. "Always knew Amelia was a dyke," I said to myself as I caught the bus from the Rideau Shopping Center and rode it to campus. Seriously, seeing Amelia with Spike totally surprised me. I suspected that my erstwhile roommate might be lesbian or bisexual but never had any proof. Doesn't bother me either way, you understand? I just wondered about her, that's all. Little did I know that Spike wasn't a one-night stand for Amelia. Apparently, lesbians operate differently from us straight people. Three weeks after they met, Rhiannon "Spike" Spelman, the tattooed butch lesbian biker from hell and Amelia Rodriguez, decided to move in. And since I had no lease and stayed at the Sandy Hill apartment on a month-to-month basis, the two dykes basically forced me out. Oh yeah, they gave me an ultimatum. I had a week to move out. "You're both a pair of backstabbing bitches," I said to Rhiannon and Amelia as I stormed out. I needed a place to stay, and trust me, even though Ottawa isn't that big a city, rent is expensive up here. I go to school full-time and work at the nearby Loblaw's as a cashier on weekends and holidays. Rent at my soon-to-be old place was six hundred a month plus utilities, and I could barely afford it when Amelia and I split everything. I looked on Kijiji for places on my price range, and couldn't find any. With the threat of homelessness looming over my head, I didn't know what to do. I finally called Tyrese Montrose because I ran out of ideas. I asked him if he knew anyone who was looking for a roommate. I usually preferred female roommates but if the choice came down to sharing an apartment with a guy and being homeless, guess which one I'd pick? "It so happens I put an ad on Kijiji a week ago because I'm subletting the spare room in my place," Tyrese said. I went silent for a moment. "If it's available I want it," I said, biting my lip. "Come by and take a look," Tyrese replied, and I laughed, promising him he wouldn't regret it. I swear, when I went to Tyrese's place, I was only looking for the spare room. When he came to the front door wearing only a pair of shorts, still sweaty from his early afternoon workout, I, um, lost control. How we ended up on his living room floor, fucking like jackrabbits, without a damn condom, I'll never know. "That was fun," Tyrese said, as I rested my head on his chest, my pussy still pleasurably sore from the merciless pounding he'd just given me. "We're going to get along famously," I said, smiling at him. Tyrese nodded. "You got the room," he said with a grin. Now, I know what this looks like. It certainly looks like I used my womanly wiles to get my way with Tyrese, and basically trick him into letting me have the room. It's cheap, too, only four hundred a month. Rent usually goes for twice that anywhere near downtown Ottawa. All the Soho-style condos being built are forcing small-time landlords to hike up their fees. That's life in Ottawa, Ontario, for you. Come to think of it, that's life everywhere. It kicks you in the teeth, like betrayal from a trusted friend. "I never would have imagined my shy and innocent roommate Amelia capable of such treachery," I told Tyrese one night, when he came home from the nearby Goodlife Fitness gym and found me sitting in the living room, pensive. "We've all trusted someone who betrayed us," Tyrese said, gently laying his hand on mine. I looked at him. "I should have seen it coming," I said, shaking my head. I looked past Tyrese, and thought of my tumultuous life. I remembered my parents and I living in a tiny apartment in Vanier, because we couldn't afford anything better. I remember my parents arguing about money, and religion, and culture. My father found Canadian culture downright infuriating, and my mother's eagerness to embrace Western ways, like driving and getting a job (although she still wore hijab outside the house ) well, that seemed like a betrayal to him. The Canadian government refused to acknowledge my father's academic credentials from the prestigious King Faisal University, and as a result, he lost hope. He resigned himself to a life as a cab driver, hating the west, hating my mother and I, and above all else, hating himself. Saudi Girls Into Black Americans "Home was never a safe place for me," I told Tyrese, as I was snapped out of my reverie by his warm hand squeezing mine. I looked at him, this dark-skinned young American, and wondered at what could have brought someone like him to Ottawa. America is the land of opportunity. Obama land. A magical place. "Why did you leave your country?" I asked him. A pained look crossed Tyrese's face. "I am an orphan and grew up in foster care," Tyrese began. Shaking my head, I marveled at him. Whenever I thought of orphans, well-dressed, educated and confident young men like Tyrese Montrose weren't my first thought or anyone's, that's for bloody sure. "I was adopted by a white couple, Jeremiah and Marilyn Montrose of Buffalo," Tyrese continued. "I'm glad they took you in," I said hopefully. Tyrese shot me a look and I fell silent. "Continue please," I said, somewhat apologetically. "My adoptive parents had a son right after adopting me, my brother Joey, and we didn't get along growing up," Tyrese continued, a haunted look on his face. Tyrese told me about the rivalry he and Joey had growing up. Not for the first time, I found myself thankful I didn't have any siblings. "My adoptive parents were millionaires and they paid for my education but left all their wealth to Joey," Tyrese said, shaking his head. "I am so sorry," I said, gently squeezing Tyrese's hand. "The rich white couple left their biological son their money and skipped the dark-skinned adoptee," Tyrese said, shrugging his massive shoulders. He looked at me, an intense look in his dark eyes. "I didn't want my adoptive parents money, and now that they're dead, Joey can have it all", he said firmly. Tyrese pointed to a framed document on the wall. "My bachelor's degree in accounting from Canisius College," he said proudly. I looked at it and nodded, though I only noticed Tyrese's name on it for the first time. Pointing to his chest, Tyrese shook his head. "I got to Canisius College on an academic scholarship because I'm smart and I came to Canada to make something of myself," he said, his voice rising. I sat closer to him, and gently, hesitantly put my hands on his shoulders. "I am the daughter of refugees from Saudi Arabia and I'm a scholarship student at U of O because I'm dirt poor," I said, shrugging. It felt good to admit the truth to someone. I'd spent ages not acting my wage, as it were. Spending money on stuff I didn't need. My precious motorcycle was collecting dust in the garage downstairs. Tyrese looked at me and smiled sadly. "We're both fucked up huh?" he laughed. I smiled and leaned closer to him. "We come from humble beginnings but we just might succeed," I said with conviction, and from the way Tyrese nodded, I could tell he felt the same way. "You're right," he said, then he kissed me. I kissed Tyrese back, really kissed him, like I'd never kissed anyone before. We began making love like this, that's right, I said making love instead of fucking, on the couch. Gently, we undressed each other. Tyrese tenderly wrapped his arms around me and kissed my lips, my neck, and finally began suckling at my breasts. "Go easy there sweetie," I purred, as he greedily sucked my tits. Tyrese licked his way to my belly, and finally, to my pelvic area. Spreading my thighs, he knelt before me and worshipped at my altar. "You're in my spot," I giggled as Tyrese began eating my pussy like a starving man finding food after days of hunger. Once my sexy African-American stud revved up my engine, I took his dick in my hand and brought it to life. "Let me taste you," I said, and began sucking Tyrese's dick with gusto. Tyrese hesitated, like he had something on his mind. "What is it?" I asked, briefly pausing in mid-sucking. "I kind of liked it when you played with my ass last time," Tyrese said bashfully. I smiled and looked at him. "You're one kinky brother," I laughed. This time, I did better than fingering Tyrese's ass while sucking his dick. "I'm going to fuck your ass," I said, and got up abruptly. I rushed to my bed, and pulled my favorite dildo from my erotica drawer. "What are you going to do with that?" Tyrese asked, a smile on his face. I gently stroked my dildo and shook the bottle of lotion I carried in my left hand. "Fuck the hell out of you," I said smiling. I put Tyrese on his back and sucked his dick while working my dildo into his ass, after lubricating him. "Go slow," Tyrese moaned as I sank the dildo into his ass. "Shut up I'm in charge now," I said, chastising him. I like to dominate guys in the bedroom but most men don't go for that, unfortunately. To discover that a big, macho black guy like Tyrese went for this sort of thing, or was at least open to it, well, that made my pussy practically ooze with excitement. I noticed how big and hard Tyrese's dick got in my hand as I filled his ass with the dildo. I guess he really likes this, hmmm? "Oh yeah babe fuck me," Tyrese begged as I fucked his ass with the dildo. "You like getting dominated by your Saudi mistress don't you Mr. America?" I teased, taunting Tyrese while totally dominating him. "Yeah babe you own this ass," he moaned, and I laughed victoriously. I like riding a guy's dick, and feel it throb deep inside my pussy. Taking dick doggy style is one of my guilty pleasures. I enjoy all these things, don't get me wrong but I really, really enjoy dominating a guy with my toys. Tyrese cried out, orgasmic, as his dick spurted loads upon loads of hot cum all over the couch. "Damn that was intense," he sighed, as I slowly pulled the dildo out of his ass. I took some of Tyrese's cum and smeared it on my breasts, then, just to be twisted, I brought some on Tyrese's lips. "Taste yourself lover," I teased, as Tyrese hesitantly licked his own cum off my fingers. I smiled at Tyrese, feeling really good after this impromptu session of female-on-male domination. Tyrese pulled me into his arms and kissed me. "You're one amazing woman," he said, and I couldn't argue with that. Yup, as you can see, Tyrese and I are getting along just fine. I'm not sure what we are. Roommates, friends, or fuck buddies? I don't know. We hang out together outside the apartment, and go to the Silver City movie theater on Tuesdays. We shop together at Loblaw's, where my discount definitely helps us when it comes to groceries. Yeah, we do a lot of couple-type stuff but we're not a couple. Tyrese assured me that what we do comes with no strings attached. Still, we'd been living together for two and a half months and I hadn't been with another man since I moved into Tyrese's. In fact, it really bugged me when Tyrese flirted with a blonde-haired white slut in a short skirt one night when we went to the Honest Lawyer, our favorite bar, together. "Don't bring the skank home," I whispered to Tyrese as I went to the arcade, fuming. Out the corner of my eye I watched as Tyrese flirted with what's-her-face, and when she didn't respond to his advances, I smiled. " A swing and a miss," I said, looking at Tyrese mockingly after returning to the bar. Tyrese fixed his steely gaze on me, and I stared into those eyes which most people would consider intimidating. Not I. "What was that?" he asked, crossing his arms. I looked at him, this stubborn African-American, and shook my head. "Why do you always go for skanks?" I scoffed at him. Seriously, we both agreed we could fuck whoever but still...Tyrese laid his hand on my arm. "So?" he asked quietly, his eyes growing more intense by the minute. "I want you to myself," I said quietly, my body trembling with barely-checked emotion. "Finally you admit it," Tyrese said, grinning that movie star smile I usually found so charming. I stared hard at him, as understanding dawned on me. Playfully I slapped his biceps. "You knew?" I asked, disbelief washing over me. Tyrese nodded, and brought his face closer to mine. "Dumbass," I said, then threw my arms around him and kissed him. Arm in arm we left the bar, and headed back to our place. That's right, I said our place. Tyrese and I are a couple now. We're definitely different, but not as much as some would have you believe. A black man from the United States and an Arab woman from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, living together in Ottawa, Ontario. Yeah, I know we're unusual but so what? I was raised Muslim, but consider myself simply a believer in the one true God these days. The iron-clad rules of Islam aren't something I'm keen to embrace. I want to wear what I want to wear, date whoever I want regardless of culture or religion. I want my life to belong to me. I'm with Tyrese, and he considers himself a Christian. We've discussed my past and my religion at great length many times. "I believe in God and the Creator has no religion," I told my beloved one night, as we lay in bed after coming home from the movies. Seriously, I'm really hoping religion isn't going to be an issue in my relationship with my favorite American. Judaism, Christianity and Islam all claim to know who the one true God is and He wants from humanity. I don't think any of them holds a monopoly on the Creator of the universe. Think of Adam and Eve, the first humans. They didn't have a church, a mosque or a synagogue to pray in but yet they knew God like no modern human ever will. See? In September, I will begin my final semester in the Accounting program at the University of Ottawa. I will graduate with my bachelor's degree in December. Tyrese will begin his studies in the MBA program at Carleton University. It's not going to be easy. Lots of relationships are put under duress due to both halves working or pursuing higher education. Tyrese and I will be doing both, working and studying. It's imperative to me that I get my degree. "You're one ambitious lady," Tyrese laughed as we shopped for school supplies at the Dollar Store downtown. "You got no idea," I replied, and Tyrese laughed. For a moment I was distracted by a plump white woman who walked into the store with her brown-skinned daughter and a tall black man. They made for a lovely family. Interracial couples are becoming more common in Ottawa, even though Tyrese and I still attract our fair of stares. "Cute family," Tyrese commented, as the trio disappeared down the aisle. I looked at Tyrese, and bit my lip. "Something on your mind sweetie?" Tyrese asked me, gently putting his arm around my shoulders. I looked at this young man I had come to love so much. "I have something to tell you," I said, taking Tyrese's arm off my shoulder and pressing his hands against my belly. "Oh wow," Tyrese said softly, as understanding dawned on him. His brown eyes bore into mine. "How long?" he asked excitedly. I smiled and shrugged. "Three weeks, I suspected, but wanted to be sure before telling you," I said. I looked into Tyrese's eyes, fearing he might be shocked, or feel trapped or overwhelmed. As women the world over know, men tend to react unpredictably when a woman reveals she's pregnant. Some run, others react with anger or shock, and many are overwhelmed. Tyrese didn't do all of the above. "We're going to be alright," he said, and pulled me into his arms. "You sure?" I said. Tyrese nodded. "Rabia, you and I are going to have the family we've both always dreamed of," he said confidently. Relief washed over me like a wave and happiness shot through me. "Yes we are," I said, blinking back tears of happiness. Linking my arm with Tyrese's as we grabbed our school supplies and headed to the checkout counter.