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The Confederation of Canada can be a wonderful place but it can also be a funny place. I’ve heard horror stories from highly educated immigrants hailing from places like southeast Asia, continental Africa and the Middle East whose credentials aren’t accepted by Canadian institutions. Canada can be quite xenophobic that way. If you’re not White and you’re educated and ambitious, they tend to fear you. As an educated Black woman with ambition to spare, I know this all too well. My name is Martina “Tina” Braxton ( no relations to any Pop culture divas from back in the day ) and I’m an African-American woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario.

Luckily I came to Ontario with a bachelor’s degree in business administration from Rutgers University and an MBA from Princeton University. American college and university degrees are recognized by Canadian institutions, fortunately. I recently became a permanent resident of Canada and one day soon I will have dual US/Canadian citizenship. That’s one of my long-term goals, I guess. Canada is beautiful but I will always hold a special place in my heart for the United States of America, where I was born. I’m a Jersey gal until the day that I die.

I came to Canada to start a new life for myself after my divorce. My former husband, a White gentleman named Liam Carlsbad, we kind of had a parting of ways. I liked pussy more than he did, I guess. He remarried a nice White gal named Amber from the City of Atlanta, Georgia, and they have two sons, or so I am told. I guess we just weren’t meant for each other. When we met at Princeton University in 2002, it was love at first sight. A tall, serious and ambitious Black gal dating a short, funny White guy with money. That’s us back in the day. A promising pairing that went sour fast. I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.

Ontario has been my home for a while. I moved there from my hometown of Princeton, New Jersey, in the summer of 2009. The province of Ontario is truly beautiful country. One of the most beautiful regions of Canada. The place has fascinated me so much that I decided to stay, I guess. Now, don’t get me wrong, I go back to the States once in a while. Sometimes I just hop into my red Mercedes and drive from the City of Ottawa, Ontario, to the City of Buffalo, New York. It’s a long drive but absolutely worth it in terms of sightseeing. I’ve often said that Ontario is a magnificent land, it’s the behavior of some of the people that leaves a lot to be desired.

I’ve made a good life for myself in Canada, I think. I got myself a job working for the Canadian government. I dated a few guys but none really lit my fire. I also had some fun with the ladies, because, you know, I’m bisexual. I never met anyone who really did it for me, male or female, until…her. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I wanted her. The tall, curvy young Jamaican woman I first glimpsed canlı bahis in church took my breath away. The way she looked in her shiny Black jacket over a Black tank top and tight blue jeans, I felt my heart skip a beat. Five-foot-ten, short-haired, curvy and dark-skinned, with big tits, wide hips and a big round ass. I wanted some of that, alright. I’ve had a thing for curvy dark-skinned girls ever since I could remember and now that I’m pushing forty, I see no reason to stop. This vision of beauty is Samira Jacobson, a newcomer to Canada by way of Jamaica.

I’m not one to shit where I eat so the hot chicks at the office were off-limits. Where does that leave the ones at church? Sounds like gray area to me. That’s why I decided to get close to the lovely Samira Jacobson. Under the pretext of sisterly bonding, of course. After all, she’s a nineteen-year-old Afro-Caribbean immigrant attending university in the Canadian capital for the first time and as a university-educated, successful African-American woman, I had a lot to teach her. Let’s get together for bible study sometime, I told her as I handed her my business card, which had my cell phone number on it. No problem my sister, Samira said joyfully as she gave me a hug. When I felt her sexy body press against mine, I shuddered with pleasure. This is going to be good!

The first time Samira Jacobson and I got together was at my high-rise condo at the heart of the Capital. The young Jamaican darling was impressed by my place. It’s a three-bedroom apartment in a high-rise downtown. Magnificent view of the ‘power’ sector of the Capital City. I’m the only Black person in the building who doesn’t have to push a broom or wear a security uniform. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve gotten mistaken for the help by some bigoted White person who assumes that Black folks simply can’t afford real estate downtown. Yeah, White Canadians get on my nerves sometimes. They’re the most polite bigots in the world but they’re still bigots, you know?

I told Samira to make herself at home and watched as she marveled about the sheer size of the place. She’s so fresh-faced, innocent and lovely. During our first ‘session’ together, we talked about everything but scripture. We discussed boyfriends, language issues, the myriad cultural differences between Jamaica and Canada, the hidden but ever-present racism of White Canadians, and how North America still has issues with educated women, especially educated women of color, in the business world. For Samira is a business student just like I was. We must make our own way into this world, I told her.

And that’s how it began. Samira and I became friends, adding each other on Facebook and we also hung out together. I took her to movies and restaurants, slowly but methodically inserting myself into her life. Thus we became best pals. Imagine my surprise when she bahis siteleri came to me after her boyfriend du jour, a tall red-haired White dude named Dylan, dumped her for a Chinese chick. Inside I rejoiced because Samira was back on the market but outwardly I was the face of concern, hugging her and telling her everything would be okay. I invited her to come over to grab some food and also chill, girlfriend time, you know? That’s when I put the moves on her.

There we were, sitting on the couch while watching a rerun of The L Word, a show that both Samira and I like. After showering, I wore a bathrobe with nothing underneath, and Samira wore a black tank top and blue booty shorts. Damn she looked hot. She was shivering a bit because I put the AC on ( on purpose ) and I hugged her to warm her up. With her body pressed against mine, and our faces inches from each other, I finally made my move. I kissed her. The first kiss, in any relationship, is the most important. Anything after that falls under the category of expectation at best and routine at worst. I don’t know what I expected when I kissed Samira but I got more than I bargained for.

I thought I was the experienced one, the mature Black lesbian woman ( although at thirty eight I don’t consider myself mature ) seducing the younger Black chick, but Samira had some surprises in store for me. She kissed me passionately and grabbed me tightly, squeezing me with surprising strength. She kissed me like she’d been kissing women for a while. When I came up for air and looked into her eyes, I saw an amused look in those dark brown eyes of hers. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Samira told me in a confident voice, while gently touching my inner thigh. I gasped and shuddered as she slid two fingers into my pussy. Let’s go to bed, she whispered into my ear. I smiled and nodded.

Samira and I went to the bedroom, and once there, we got our freak on, as they say. Usually I’m pretty dominant with women but this time, I didn’t mind someone else taking the lead. Younger women like Samira seldom prove equal to the task but hey, I’m all for surprises, you know? Samira laid me on the bed wearing my birthday suit, and kissed me all over. I moaned under her expert touch, and gently she made passionate love to me. At six-foot-one I’ve been told I’m tall for a woman my whole life, but that didn’t seem to intimidate Samira in the least. Spreading my thighs, she began licking my pussy while sliding her fingers into my holes.

I smiled wickedly as Samira slid her finger into my asshole while blowing on my pussy. She flicked her tongue over my clitoris and I squirmed. Laughing, Samira continued working on me. Samira climbed on top of me, kissing me deeply and fondling my tits. I locked eyes with her and told her to fuck me. Samira smiled and nodded, and I opened the nearby drawer, pulling out the strap-on dildo I usually bahis şirketleri wore to fuck my female first-timers as well as the occasional freaky guy. Samira looked good wearing my strap-on dildo, I must admit. Now let’s see if you can use it, I taunted her. Grabbing me, Samira playfully wrestled me as I tried to get away. Considering she’s a few inches shorter than me and a bit lighter, she was surprisingly strong.

I’m going to take that ass, Samira said, giving my butt a hard smack. I purred like a kitten and assumed the position. Face down and ass up. Samira got behind me, and eased the strap-on dildo into my pussy. Grabbing my hips, she leaned into me, whispering into my ear that she was going to fuck the hell out of me. Less talking and more fucking, I teased. Samira laughed and smacked my ass some more, then thrust the dildo deep inside of me. I licked my lips as she penetrated me. Samira was gentle at first, since this was our first time together. I liked the rough stuff and let her know, and she fucked me hard, just the way I liked it. I mean she pushed my head into the pillow, and stuck her finger up my butt hole while slamming the dildo into my cunt. It hurt oh so good, and I loved every minute of it. Samira fucked me for a long while, and left me breathless.

After taking a few minutes to recuperate, I pulled my sexy gal closer to me and kissed her. Then I pleasured her. Samira was a little hesitant. She’s got that butch mentality and you know they don’t like it when we femmes touch them in certain spots. Not me. I’m a bossy femme and I must have my way, I don’t care how butch you are. I took control of Samira, and I think she liked it. Spreading her thighs, I inhaled the scent of her hot, hairy pussy. Gently I began probing her with my fingers, keeping my eyes on her face the entire time. When she seemed to like what I was doing, I got more aggressive, and used the dildo instead of my fingers. For a butch chick with the touch-me-not attitude, Samira certainly got loud after I started fucking her with my toy. The same one she just fucked me with. Soon I had her squealing and moaning. When she came, loudly and unexpectedly, I watched her, mesmerized, as the orgasm coursed through her body, wracking her whole being in the most pleasurable of ways.

When morning came, it found Samira and I in each other’s arms. I’ve brought home quite a few women in recent times but I must admit that Samira Jacobson is something special. A beautiful, strong and tomboyish, highly intelligent young Black woman. A God-fearing Christian woman who believes in herself, just like me. I have long sought someone like that and it seems that I found her in the most unlikely place. I’m often told that God doesn’t like those of us who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transsexual. We often hear that in Black churches especially. I don’t believe I’m a mistake. I’m a bisexual Christian woman of the African-American persuasion. I am the way God made me. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Tim Horton’s for sandwiches and coffee. I want to serve my future boo Samira breakfast in bed. Am I romantic or what?

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