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Muslim Lesbians Of Montreal

BDSM is an important aspect of the sex lives of many people across racial, gender and sexual orientation lines, and there's a lot more to it than what you've seen in the 50 Shades of Grey movie," Professor Khadija Mansour said, and the entirety of the Gender and Sexuality Class at the University of Montreal listened with rapt attention.

"Professor Mansour, all this whips and chains stuff sounds like it could open up the potential for some abuse in interpersonal relationships," I said evenly, raising my hand for good measure. I sat in the first row of the vast lecture hall, and all of a sudden, all eyes were on me. Cool by me since I'm an attention whore in every way.

"Miss Teshome, the cinch point of all BDSM relationships is consent, and I'm sure you know most people don't consent to be abused," Professor Khadija Mansour replied smartly, and I saw frustration on that lovely face of hers, and smiled wickedly. Five feet ten inches tall, athletic and lovely, with black hair and bronze skin, the Prof looked singularly uncomfortable with my line of questioning. I love putting Miss Mansour on the spot and frustrating the hell out of her. Khadija's cute when she's mad.

"Thank you for clearing that up professor," I replied coyly, and exchanged a knowing smile with my friend Albert, who sat next to me. Tall and stocky, with dark brown skin and curly hair, Albert is originally from the island of Haiti, and I've known him since our halcyon days at Loyola High School in Montreal. Albert's the first person I came out to, and we've been best friends for years.

"Leave the poor woman alone, ma Cherie," Albert said, rolling his eyes and I smirked and shook my head. What fun would university be if students didn't put their professors on the spot once in a while? Besides, the University of Montreal is one of the most expensive schools in Quebec, even though I'm told Ontario schools are way more expensive. Professor Mansour can take it, since she loves dishing it out so much.

Class ended, and at once the forty seven students in the Gender and Sexuality class exited. Me? I lingered for a bit. Albert wanted to chill later but I told him I had some shit to do. I hate lying to my best friend like that, especially since Albert is still nursing wounds from his recent breakup with Anneke, this German chick he'd been dating.

"I'll swing by your house on Saturday and we'll chill, I promise," I said, and Albert nodded, then left. I was alone in the empty classroom, save for the professor, of course. I looked at Professor Khadija Mansour, and smiled coyly. The woman matched my stare, and I saw a hint of defiance in those lovely brown eyes of hers.

"You are such a brat, Mariam," Khadija said as I stood, mere inches from her. Clad in a stylish black vest over a white blouse, black silk pants and platform sandals, the gorgeous Egyptian-Canadian gal looked absolutely stunning. The way her thick, round ass looked in them pants, hot damn.

"If I'm bad why don't you spank me?" I said defiantly, and stood so close to Khadija that I could smell her perfume, Simply Belle. I looked into Khadija's eyes, and smiled. Gently she pulled me closer, and we shared a passionate kiss. It was so risky, the two of us making out at school like that. What if a student came back and saw us? Whatever. I didn't care.

"Don't tempt me," Khadija said, patting my derriere for good measure before swatting it. I giggled, and then we left the classroom, walking through the throngs of students moving about the numerous hallways of the University of Montreal. We made our way to the parking lot, and drove the few blocks to the Rock Hill Area, and swiftly entered Khadija's apartment.

"Gosh I've missed you," I said, and Khadija smiled and reminded me to take off my damn boots before entering her three-bedroom, neat and not so little place. Arabian artwork, largely Egyptian, adorned the walls. Khadija is a stylish, smart and cultured woman, and I love her beauty, intelligence and sophistication. I also love the fiery temper hidden beneath her cool exterior and love to piss Khadija off every chance I get.

"I missed you too you little brat," Khadija said, and she sat on the couch, patting her lap expectantly. I smiled wickedly and then came and plopped down on Khadija's lap, and I made myself comfortable. And why shouldn't I be comfortable? I've got the best seat in the house, believe me.

"I'm very comfortable," I said, and wrapped my arms around Khadija's neck before leaning in for a kiss. Khadija kissed me passionately, and I felt the tension she'd been feeling all day vanish from her tight body. Khadija worries too much about her career and her family, and me? My Egyptian goddess Khadija is a worrier. I'm a Jane-of-all-trades who worries almost never and always lands on her feet. We're an interesting couple, to say the least.

I was born in the City of Durame, southwestern Ethiopia, to Ibrahim and Manal Teshome. My parents moved to Laval, Quebec, in the 1990s. My brothers Ali and Omar were born and raised in Canada but I still remember Ethiopia, the land of our ancestors. Sometimes at night, I dream of Ethiopia, for this land is in my blood and always will be.

My family can't ever return there, since my proud Ethiopian Muslim father Ibrahim Teshome is suspected of having cooperated with Somali militants who lashed out at the Ethiopian government in the 1980s. We came to Canada as refugees, and it took us a while to acquire permanent residence and citizenship. I only got my citizenship once I started high school. Yup, the Canadian government certainly dragged its feet in our case.

"This week has been so stressful you can't imagine," Khadija said, and I saw a somber look in her lovely eyes. I took Khadija's face in my hands and kissed her. Khadija kissed me back, then rested her head against my chest. I hugged Khadija tightly, for I sensed her tension returning. It's amazing how in tune we are with each other's inner worlds, seriously.

"I talked to the department head today and that Quebecois creep told me that I can't get tenure on account of my age," Khadija said bitterly, and disappointment rolled off her in waves. I shook my head and sighed deeply, for I knew how important this was to her. My sweet Khadija has ambition and nobody teaches as brilliantly about gender and sexuality like she does. Yet our school's racist administration discriminate against her because she's a brown woman from an Islamic country.

"Fuck those racist bastards, one day Quebec will be mostly minority and you and I will kick some racist white butt," I said angrily, locking eyes with Khadija, and she smiled faintly. My heart skipped a beat when that sweet smile of hers returned. Khadija's smile has a way of making me melt, seriously.

"Amen to that," Khadija said, and then I felt her hands roam all over me, and just like that, my sweetie began undressing me. Off came my blue T-shirt featuring The Rock, and my black sweatpants, followed by my boxers. I'm a tomboy through and true, and find boxers way more practical and comfortable than frilly panties.

"You're so cute in them boxers," Khadija said, giggling and I threw my boxers at her head. Khadija laughed and caught them, sniffed them then tossed them away. Pulling me close, Khadija slapped my ass, hard, and I yelped in surprise. Grinning, Khadija began licking my tits.

I'm five-foot-eleven, slim and dark-skinned, with long black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Like a lot of Ethiopian girls, I lack the curvatures that many associate with women of African descent. I blame my father for that, he's of partial Yemeni ancestry. Still, I do have a nice ass, though my tits are tiny, and Khadija loves my thick Northeast African derriere.

"I love that big brown ass of yours," Khadija said, and next thing I knew, my Egyptian goddess put me on all fours and proceeded to lick my pussy from behind. I love it when she does that. Khadija simply bent me over and started eating my pussy, while alternately caressing and spanking my thick Ethiopian ass.

"Quit staring at my ass and eat it," I said defiantly, and I shot Khadija a wicked glare. Smiling, Khadija nodded, and then spread my ass cheeks wide open before sticking her tongue inside. I love having my ass eaten, seriously. Can't speak for other females but I love that stuff more than eating pussy. Khadija kissed and fondled my ass, then buried her tongue deep into my hole, causing me to writhe and moan in pleasure.

I endured this sweet torture for a while, until Khadija decided to switch things up. My sweetie sat on the chair, took off her blouse and pants, and then tossed aside her panties. Spreading those long, shapely legs of hers wide open with an inviting look on her pretty face, Khadija winked at me suggestively.

"I know what to do," I whispered, and happily crouched before Khadija and buried my face between her legs. I love eating her pussy like this, raw and natural, before she's had a chance to wash it up and banish her natural scent and oils with all the crap that she uses, like vaginal deodorant. Straight from work, where she'd been all day, Khadija's pussy smelled and tasted wonderful, hot and salty, and I couldn't get enough of it.

"Just like that Mariam," Khadija said, moaning softly as I fingered her cunt while eating her out. My agile fingers dug deep into her womanhood, and I twisted them around Khadija's sweet spot while teasing her clit with my tongue. Khadija squirmed and her eyes widened in surprise while her lips quivered. I winked at her, and continued what I was doing. I know what my sweet Khadija likes.

"Get the strap-on," Khadija whispered, and I grinned and pulled it out of my nearby backpack. Like I said before, I know what my woman likes. I donned the strap-on, a phallic and glistening black tool modeled after the penis of African-American porn star Lexington Steele. Grinning, I rubbed the head of the strap-on against Khadija's cunt, but did not go inside. I love teasing her.

"Are you ready for me?" I asked coyly, and Khadija groaned in frustration before nodding vigorously, then I pushed the dildo into her cunt. A gasp and a happy sigh escaped Khadija's sweet lips, and I felt my sweetie's strong arms wrap themselves around my hips, pressing me against her. I kissed Khadija's lips and caressed her tits, then raised those sexy legs of hers in the air as I thrust deep into her.

"Harder dammit!" Khadija screamed, grabbing my face for emphasis. I smiled and nodded, then gently bit her shoulder as I slammed the dildo mercilessly into Khadija's cunt. I continued fucking her roughly, just the way she liked it. Shoot, things got so intense that I took Khadija on the carpeted floor of her fancy apartment.

Yup, I took my sweet Khadija on all fours, face down and ass up, smacking that cute Arab ass of hers and pulling on her long, lustrous hair while ramming my strap-on dildo into her cunt. Khadija's passionate screams mingled with my own, and we fucked for a long time, until she finally tapped out. I smiled wickedly and pulled out of her. Khadija kissed me, then we lay side by side. Sweaty, panting and happy. It was a good lay.

"Feel better now?" I asked Khadija, and she grinned and nodded. I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Khadija took my hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it gently. I laughed out loud and Khadija playfully slapped my thigh. I love it when she does corny stuff like that, though. Lying side by side on the apartment living room floor, mere blocks from our school, Khadija and I are in a world of our world. And we're happy together.

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