Somali Lesbian Lust


One life to live, ladies and gentlemen. That’s basically all we’ve got. My name is Sagal Jawari and I’m a young black Muslim woman of Somali descent living in the City of Toronto, Ontario. I study criminal justice at the University of Toronto, and these days, life is too hectic for words. It’s not easy being a brown-skinned female and a Muslim in Canada. Even in a town as racially and culturally diverse as Toronto, there are a lot of bigots. I don’t let them stop me, though. I do my own thing regardless of what the haters throw at me.

Now that I’m living away from my family and friends, I’m experiencing a lot of new things. In the past, I lived under many restrictions. My parents, Aden and Choukri Jawari are Somali immigrants who moved from Mogadishu, Somalia, to Ontario, Canada, in the summer of 1988. Three years later I was born, a Canadian citizen by birth, and the daughter of two very different worlds. Canada and Somalia are as different as day and night. One is a democratic nation, and the other is a religious dictatorship masquerading as a republic. I have a foot in each world, and that makes for tough living, let me tell you.

To the few friends I have made at the University of Toronto, I am simply Sagal, the quirky chick in the Hijab and traditional Islamic long robes. To my parents, I’m a rebel who refuses to live at home and instead dwells in a two-bit apartment near the University of Toronto campus. My folks live in York, and I came to the City of Toronto specifically to get away from them. What can I say? A gal needs to breathe!

The truth is that I wanted to be on my own. The way I figure it, university is a time for growth in a young person’s life. I don’t regret moving out because I was chafing under my parents authority. If you’ve ever visited a Somali household, then you know what I’m talking about. My older brothers Bilal and Yousef, both of whom were born in Somalia, enjoy absolute freedom. My parents don’t care what they do. Yousef is studying business at York University and Bilal is taking accounting at Seneca College. Both of them are dating white girls. Me? I’m forbidden from dating guys.

I chuckled to myself as I wrote those lines. If my parents only knew. There’s a reason why I was such a well-behaved, pious and chaste gal while living under their roof. My father often praised me as the ideal daughter, a Koran-reading and modestly dressed Islamic darling who never showed any interest in the opposite sex. Somali fathers, and Muslim men in general, worry themselves into bad health over the sexual behavior of their unmarried daughters. My dad never had to worry about my sneaking around with guys in high school because, well, I am not interested in guys.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you read right. I, Sagal Jawari, born on November 9, 1991, at the Baycrest Hospital in Toronto, Ontario, am a lesbian. Hijab-wearing and conservatively attired Somali Muslim girls like myself are human, like everyone else, and we have sexual desires and sexual identities. I swear, the moment a gal bursa escort decides to wear the Hijab and Islamic clothing, people forget that she’s human.

I stand five feet nine inches tall, a bit chubby, with dark brown skin and long curly black hair that I always tuck under my Hijab before leaving the house. I am a lesbian, and a Muslim. I have known about my sexual identity ever since I was young, but I always kept it to myself. You have to understand that in the Muslim community, gayness and lesbianism aren’t just frowned upon, such behavior could get you killed if people found out.

Whenever I do research about Somali lesbians, or GLBT Somalis in general, I don’t like what I find. Let’s see, the only even remotely positive story about Somali lesbians involves Amal Aden, an openly gay Somali woman living in Ringerike, somewhere in Norway. In the various articles on her, Amal Aden discussed the death threats that she received from fellow Somalis and other Muslims, and the loneliness plaguing her life since she came out. Watching videos of this butch-looking gay Somali broad, I smiled and shook my head.

The Somali detractors must have had a field day with this Amal Aden chick. Indeed, Miss Aden is a masculine Somali lesbian, anyone can tell what she is thanks to her short haircut, tomboy style and masculine mannerisms. I am not a masculine chick. I am not a tomboy. I don’t have short hair under my Hijab. And I don’t wear pants. I am a traditional gal. I wear my Hijab and long skirt proudly, and carry a copy of the Holy Koran everywhere I go. It’s always in my backpack or in my purse. I go to Masjid every Jummah ( Friday ) and I can recite by heart any passage of the Quran.

I bet I am not what most people think of when they envision a lesbian. Without a doubt, they think of those short-haired, masculine chicks they see at the mall or on the bus, or those overly girly gals in bright dresses who have gay pride buttons on their backpacks and walk around with teddy bears. Femme lesbians is what they call them, I guess. I am not butch. I am not femme. I am only me, and I happen to be a Somali woman, a proud Muslim and a lesbian. Not an easy thing for me to be, trust me on that one.

In the City of Toronto, Ontario, far from my parents and friends, I can more or less live life my way. The life of a Somali Muslim lesbian can be a lonely one, and I can honestly say I know of no other like myself. Fortunately, fate provided me with companionship, and a much-needed outlet for my sexual frustrations. One day, while walking inside the Toronto Public Library downtown, I met someone. Laila Khan. A six-foot-tall, raven-haired and brown-eyed cutie from the City of Swabi, northwestern Pakistan. The moment our eyes met, my heart skipped a beat, for I knew immediately that Laila Khan was like me. A woman who loves women.

We began talking, and added each other on Facebook. Like me, Laila is pious and wears the Hijab and long robes. Like me, Laila loves women and keeps it a secret from everyone. The gal’s gürsu escort father, Omar Khan, moved to Toronto because of a job with the Embassy of Pakistan. And he brought his only daughter with him. Laila is an international student at the University of Toronto, and lives in a plush mansion with her father. Fortunately for us, Mr. Khan travels a lot for work and is seldom home. When Laila introduced me to him, the older Pakistani man smiled and nodded in approval. And why wouldn’t he approve?

Laila and I began hanging out constantly, and everyone thought we were just close friends. And that’s how we liked it. I swear, I feel bad for those masculine Somali lesbians like Amal Aden out there. They get targeted and persecuted because everyone can tell what they are. Outwardly conservative, inside I am very liberal and downright freaky. I blend in effortlessly and even the most die-hard and anti-gay Islamic preacher would never suspect a pious, Hijab-wearing and Koran-quoting Muslim sister like me of being a queer woman. Works wonders, eh?

Laila Khan and I always have fun when we’re together. We go to the movies, and the Eaton Center has become our favorite mall. One time, while hanging out downtown, we ran into my brother Aden and his plump, blonde-haired girlfriend Beatrice. Aden greeted us happily and didn’t think anything funny was going on. If only he knew that just an hour before we ran into him and his girlfriend, Laila Khan and I shared a passionate kiss while watching the Denzel Washington movie The Equalizer at a nearby theater!

Yeah, Laila is something else, and the Pakistani cutie is an injection of life, passion and lust into my otherwise dreary existence. When we make love, Laila amazes me with her freakiness. I remember one time when we did it in the basement of her house, and things got steamy in there. I lay on the bed, stark naked, and Laila admired me because licking me from my head to my toes. I moaned and shuddered excitedly as Laila licked my tits and fingered my cunt.

The gal I privately called my Pakistani goddess definitely knew her way around the female body. I didn’t think it was possible to insert one’s whole fist into someone’s pussy but Laila Khan did it to me, slowly, and relatively painlessly I might add. Yeah, my sexy brown cutie laid me on the bed, licked my pussy and then worked her entire fist up my cunt, one finger at a time. It was wicked, at times painful but ultimately very fun, and arousing, as Laila filled up my cunt with her fist.

Sometimes, Laila likes to bend me over her knee and spank me and I must say, I really like that. My favorite thing to do is ride the shiny green strap-on dildo that we purchased together at an adult video store on Rideau Street during a trip to downtown Ottawa one weekend. Laila is so good with the strap-on that I sometimes wonder if she was born with it. Putting me on all fours, Laila Khan would smack my thick Somali ass and pull my hair while thrusting the strap-on dildo deep into my cunt. Rough sex is something orhangazi escort we both enjoy, and I love riding her.

While Laila is dominant during our bedroom play most of the time, I do have my moments. Last week, I showed my Pakistani goddess how bossy we Somali women can get, and she absolutely loved it. I tied her up, binding her hands and feet with rope, and then I went to work on her. Watching my gorgeous Laila’s tall and shapely, Amazon-like body bound like this, absolutely helpless, well, it turned me on like you would not believe.

I kissed Laila full and deep, and then I sucked on her ripe, full breasts while fingering her hairy cunt. Laila sighed happily and begged me for more. I smacked her across the face, hard. Laila stared at me, stunned. I reminded her that I was in charge, and a suddenly meek Laila nodded understandingly. Smiling wickedly, I resumed fingering Laila’s cunt, and then began fisting her. One, two, three, I got three fingers into Laila’s wet cunt and managed to add a fourth before she begged me for mercy. I nodded, kissed Laila, looked adoringly into her eyes…and then added the fifth finger. And just like that, I worked my entire fist into a very shocked Laila’s cunt.

Laila gasped, and then sighed in pleasure as I began fisting her. To really shine her on, I took her favorite toy, the same green strap-on dildo Laila loves to fuck me with, and dipped it in Aloe cream. As a very surprised Laila looked on, I slowly worked the well-lubed dildo into her tight asshole. Laila sighed, and gritted her teeth as I pushed the dildo into her asshole. Laila and I had discussed anal sex before and she told me that it’s something she loved. Well, I like to keep my lady happy.

Leaving the dildo embedded in Laila’s asshole, I resumed fisting her pussy. Soon I had Laila squirming and moaning as I laid the double whammy on her, fisting her cunt while ramming the dildo up her ass. My Pakistani goddess squealed in delight and cried out my name, and a string of profanities, in every language she knew. I heard my prim and proper Pakistani Muslim girlfriend cry out in Urdu, Arabic, Hindi and English. The mouth on her! I silenced Laila with a kiss, then held her tight as her sexy Amazonian body writhed, orgasmic.

Much later, Laila Khan and I lay on the bed, our womanly bodies soaked with sweat, big happy smiles on our faces. You’re awesome, Laila said, kissing me tenderly. I hugged her fiercely, and kissed her back passionately. We fell asleep like this. Sometimes, I wish that Laila Khan and I didn’t have to hide. I sometimes envy those white lesbians and gay white guys I see on parade in the streets of Toronto. I know that Somali culture and the Islamic faith isn’t ready for any of that.

Please allow me to explain what I mean. I am a Somali Muslim woman and a lesbian, and although my Somali culture and Islamic community may seem backward to you, both matter to me. My darling and beloved Laila Khan is in a similar boat. It can’t be easy for her, being the deeply closeted lesbian daughter of a Pakistani Muslim government worker. We have to hide our love, but I pray that the day will come when Laila and I will be free of these constraints. One day we’ll celebrate our love in the open. Wish us luck. See you around Toronto, Insha’Allah.

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