Good Times at Carleton University

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“Alright, I’ve had enough of this shit,” Yassin said, shaking his head as he walked out of the third-year law class. Deep inside the Southam Hall building at Carleton University, Professor Niklaus Kovacevic droned on and on about the responsibilities of state and citizen within the context of Canadian law. As usual, he fawned over his favorite student, Liam something or other, whom he referred to as Mr. Alberta.

“Good answer, Mr. Alberta,” Professor Kowalski said, smirking as he looked at the tall and slender, vaguely effeminate, dark-haired white male student who sat on the front row. The prof also made a point of ignoring Yassin Ambroise whenever the young man had his hand up, overlooking him for whatever white student was nearby. The dude had been at it all semester, and Yassin had finally gotten fed up with it.

“Sir, when a prisoner exchange happens between Canada and America, it’s called extradition, when a similar exchange happens between the state of Maryland and the state of Massachusetts for example, it’s called rendition,” Yassin all but blurted out, and that’s when every head in class turned in his direction. The professor had an incredulous look on his pale face, and shook his head.

“Um, I think he’s right,” said a young female student named Aisha, after checking out the answers on Wikipedia. Professor Kovacevic looked at Aisha, then at Yassin. Refusing to admit that he was wrong for once, he cut his eyes at Yassin, shook his head, and then moved onto another discussion point. Yassin, fed up, decided to exit the room. This subtly bigoted bozo had to have his cake and eat it too…

“Moving on,” Professor Kowalski said firmly, and Yassin swiftly exited the room. Hurrying down the hallway, he took the steps two at a time and rushed to the main floor of Southam. Outside, freshly fallen snow reminded him that winter had indeed come to the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Heedless of the cold, Yassin didn’t even zip up his coat as he rushed outside, and made a beeline for the Mac Odrum Library. Once inside, he headed to the third floor…

Yassin sat at the row of computers near the Learning Commons, his favorite spot. The big and tall young black man logged onto a computer, and immediately went on Facebook where he posted about the incident. For weeks he’d been enduring the silent hostility and condescension from Professor Kovacevic. The creep seemed to pick on him the most, singling him out for mistreatment simply because he was guilty of a fundamental crime. The crime of being black, male and intelligent. Something which made middle-aged white males fear him, apparently…

Yassin Ambroise quietly fumed, remembering days not too long ago that weren’t so different from today. Born in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, to a Haitian immigrant father, Yusuf Ambroise, and a white American mother, Joanna Crowley, Yassin knew all too well what it was like to be an outsider. To his classmates at Boston Latin Academy, Yassin was either too black or not black enough, depending on whom you asked.

Yassin remembered the way people looked at him and his parents as they walked around the Braintree Mall one Friday evening. It was during the month of Ramadan, during Yassin’s final year at B.L.A. and Yassin’s father Yusuf, who converted to Islam even before coming to the United States, walked about the shopping center in Islamic regalia. Kufi hat, plus the obligatory Thawb, the works. Everywhere the family went that night, people gawked…

What seemed to irk a lot of on-lookers was the chubby, youthful Yassin holding hands with his tall, dark-skinned Muslim father and his short, blonde-haired, fair-skinned and blue-eyed mother. The denizens of Massachusetts considered themselves a progressive and liberal bunch, as evidenced by their pride in electing Deval Patrick, the State’s first African-American Governor. Still, the sight of an interracial couple and their son out and about at the mall on a Friday night apparently bothered them. Who could have guessed?

“Haters are bigoted and insecure, don’t let them get to you, my son, your mother and I see them too and we’re not afraid,” Yusuf Ambroise said to Yassin, as his mother looked on, smiling. The trio went to grab a bite at a nice Chinese restaurant in the food court. Yassin’s mother Joanna took advantage of the occasion to read a letter which she found in the mail the day before.

“Yassin, I have a letter from Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario,” Joanna Crowley-Ambroise said with a smile, as she placed the letter before Yassin. The bostancı escort young man looked at his father and mother, then put down the forkful of orange chicken he was about to bite into, and took a deep breath. Smiling nervously, Yassin opened the letter. Ready or not, life happens, he thought. Yassin’s heart skipped a beat as he read the letter out loud.

“Dear Yassin Ambroise, we thank you for your interest in Carleton University, we have quite a few international students from the United States, we welcome you into our freshman class for the fall 2016 school year,” read the letter, and Yassin smiled at his parents, who practically glowed with pride. Yusuf Ambroise and Joanna Crowley-Ambroise exchanged a smile, for they couldn’t be prouder of their only son.

“Our lad is going to Ottawa, Canada,” Yusuf said, smiling, and the Haitian-American Muslim scholar, writer and community college professor took his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips. Joanna smiled at her husband, touched by such gentle and touching gestures. Yassin looked at his parents, both annoyed and charmed by their tenderness. He couldn’t quite believe that soon he would be moving away, far from them, but, oh well…

Six months later, Yassin Ambroise was cursing himself for those very words. Sitting inside the Carleton University library, Yassin cursed his infernal luck. After seeing the rise of xenophobia in the United States, he opted to study at a Canadian university instead of one of Boston’s myriad schools. Naively Yassin thought that Canada was a bastion of tolerance as he watched people protest President Barack Obama’s policies while a bigot like Donald Trump inched closer to the ultimate seat of power…

Yassin only visited the City of Ottawa once, during the summer of 2014. His paternal uncle, Louis Ambroise, was getting married to a local lady, Catherine something or other, from the Ojibwe nation of Ontario, Canada. The wedding took place at a rented spot on the Carleton University. Yassin marveled at the sheer size of the campus, and its obvious racial diversity. Two years later, he regretted his decision to enroll there as he clashed with a bigoted prof…

“Is this seat taken?” came a feminine voice, snatching Yassin Ambroise out of his train of thought. Startled, the young man looked up, and found himself gazing at a vision of beauty. Aisha Haddad, the beautiful, annoying smarty pants from his law class. There she stood, tall and sexy, brown skin glowing as if furbished, her curly dark hair tucked away under a Hijab cascading off her shoulders. Clad in a black leather jacket, red tank top, black jeans and boots, Aisha looked good and damn well knew it.

“Aisha, um, no, go ahead,” Yassin replied, and Aisha Haddad smiled and sat down. Yassin looked at her, wondering what in hell she was doing sitting next to him. They’d clashed numerous times in class. Aisha grinned and shook her head, quietly marveling at him. Yassin looked at the lovely, intriguing young woman sitting next to him, wondering what was going on inside her pretty head.

“Dammit, Yassin, I just don’t get you, you get up and leave class after proving the professor wrong, and now, the cat’s got your tongue?” Aisha asked, and she flashed Yassin that fearless smile of hers. Yassin shrugged, feeling at somewhat of a loss for words. This afternoon had been quite hard on him, and he was in no mood for witty repartee with Aisha, even though she was quite cute…

“Professor Kovacevic is a dick, and he hates me because I know all the answers and I’m not white,” Yassin said, matter-of-factly, and Aisha blinked in surprise. Yassin sighed, wondering if Aisha was going to get into an argument with him. In Canada, he noticed that passive-aggression, rather than overt confrontation, seemed to be most people’s recourse. In Boston, where Yassin grew up, people were open about how they felt, as far as race and religion were concerned…

“I figured as much, Yassin, but you’re not the only one the old douche hates, I’m half black and half Lebanese, and I got to say, I definitely know a hater when I see one,” Aisha said, grinning, and Yassin looked at her, utterly surprised by her words. Smiling faintly, Yassin nodded and, impulsively, he made a fist. Aisha bumped her fist against his, then they both burst out laughing…

“You know what, Aisha? You’re alright,” Yassin said, and Aisha nodded and shrugged. They sat down and talked for a bit, and Yassin learned a bit more about her. Truth be told, Yassin was surprised to hear that Aisha had an ümraniye escort bayan Arab immigrant father from Lebanon and a Somali mother. He hadn’t seen a lot of Black/Arab couples during his time in the City of Ottawa, that’s for damn sure. Interesting surprise…

“Let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving,” Aisha proposed, and before Yassin could reply, one of the young women working for the library walked by with a walkie-talkie and shushed them. Rolling his eyes, Yassin nodded at Aisha. The two of them got up and headed downstairs. There was a long line at the Starbucks but neither of them minded the wait…

“You’re full of surprises,” Yassin later said to Aisha, as they sat by the window, on one of the comfortable couches at the back of the in-library Starbucks. Aisha seemed totally relaxed while sipping her mocha, and Yassin found himself admiring her. This gal was tall, cute and smart. Was she single? Did he want to know? Could he ask her? Should he ask her? So many questions, so little time…

“Wait till you get to know me, handsome,” Aisha said flirtatiously, and Yassin smiled. The young woman grinned, and for some reason, brushed her hand against his. Yassin, usually the touch-me-not type, felt a thrill go through him. Aisha winked at him, and they continued with their banter. It was getting dark outside, but Yassin didn’t mind. He was enjoying a beautiful woman’s company…

“We should keep in touch, Mademoiselle Hadadd,” Yassin said quickly once he saw the lovely Aisha glancing at her watch. Got to make a move, the young man thought, and he held his breath when she looked up at him, a coy smile on her lovely face. Aisha nodded, and then dictated her number to him. Yassin saved it on his phone, and smiled. Let’s see if this goes anywhere, he thought.

“See you in class, Yassin, you’re going to make a fine lawyer someday,” Aisha said, as she got up to leave. Ever the gentleman, Yassin walked her out to the front of the library. When he offered her his hand to shake, Aisha laughed and batted his hand away, then gave him a hug. Aisha walked away, heading out through the quad instead of taking the tunnels, in spite of the snow. Yassin smiled as she walked away. Tall, cute, smart, and with a nice ass, he thought, amazed.

That night, as Yassin Ambroise lay on his bed, he thought of his life in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. With racism and xenophobia on the rise in America thanks to Donald Trump and his cronies, he left America for Canada. Having experience subtle, passive-aggressive racism in Ottawa, Yassin felt sorely disillusioned with Canada. Then he realized that no place was perfect, and he had to make do with what he had. Besides, there was Aisha, another compelling reason to give Canada another shot…

“Hmm, I’m going to explore you, Miss Haddad,” Yassin thought with a smile, before falling asleep. The next day, he called Aisha, and they ended up spending an hour talking on the phone. Afterwards, they made a date. Yassin took her to see Max Steel at the Scotiabank movie theater in Gloucester, Ontario. They went to grab a bite at the Blair Mall food court after the movie. The more time Yassin spent with Aisha, the more he grew to like her. And judging by how cutesy and touchy Aisha was with him, and how often she called and texted him, Yassin was fairly confident the feeling was mutual.

“A lot of guys say I’m a handful, but you seem to like challenges,” Aisha said to Yassin as they sat on his couch, safely ensconced inside his apartment, within walking distance of Walmart, at the heart of Barrhaven, Ontario. Aisha looked into Yassin’s eyes and smiled, and he playfully slapped his lap. Grinning, Aisha straddled him, and took his handsome face into her hands.

“I live for the challenges, sweetie,” Yassin replied, and then he kissed her. Aisha kissed him back passionately, and they began exploring one another. Yassin’s hands roamed all over Aisha’s lovely, curvy form. He caressed her breasts, and she took off her top. Yassin grinned and caressed her nipples, then began sucking on them. Aisha grabbed Yassin’s face and locked eyes with him.

“Show me what you’re really made of, Mister America,” Aisha said, a challenge in her voice, and Yassin grinned and gave her thick, round ass a firm slap. Aisha hiked up her skirt, and Yassin saw that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Grinning, he slid his hand between her legs and began fingering her. Aisha sighed happily and nodded, loving what he was doing to her.

“You are so beautiful, Aisha, I bet you taste sweet,” kartal escort Yassin whispered as he propped Aisha on the couch. Kneeling before her, he smiled as she spread her thighs, exposing her hairy pussy. Yassin grinned and brought his face closer, inhaling her womanly musk, as it were. Aisha bit her lip, wondering if he liked what he was seeing and smelling. Moments later the young woman got her answer when Yassin buried his face between her legs.

“Like how I taste?” Aisha said softly, licking her lips, and Yassin paused to smile up at her, then continued eating her pussy. The biracial American Muslim stud definitely knew his way around the vagina, Aisha noted as Yassin flicked his tongue over her clit while fingering her. His probing and licking had her shuddering on the brink of ecstasy, and like the sweet tormentor he was turning out to be, he delayed her pleasure. Relentlessly Yassin licked, probed, sucked and teased Aisha, until she cried out, gushing in pleasure…

“I love the way you taste,” Yassin said, and he propped Aisha on all fours, and spread her thick ass cheeks. The young woman grinned, surprised by Yassin’s sheer boldness, and more than a little turned on by it. Yassin watched as Aisha began to twerk, making that big ass of hers jiggle. Laughing, Yassin playfully smacked Aisha’s big ass, and then spread her thick ass cheeks wide open…

“Hmm, go ahead, sexy man, eat this ass,” Aisha whispered, and Yassin happily obliged her. Sliding his tongue deep inside her asshole, he began eating her butt. The smell and taste of Aisha’s asshole were wonderfully intoxicating, and Yassin savored them…slowly. Aisha moaned deeply as Yassin ate her ass, his tongue going so deep inside her butt hole that she purred with contentment. For she loved the sheer nasty fun of it…

“Show my Jimmy some love,” Yassin said, a little while later, after polishing Aisha’s asshole with his tongue. Aisha sat near him, a wicked smile on her face. The young woman felt tingly in funny places after the oral delights Yassin just served up. Yassin stroked his long, hard dick and looked at her meaningfully. Aisha drew closer and kissed Yassin, then grabbed his dick with the authority and expertise of a woman who knew what she was doing…

“Since you ask so nicely,” Aisha replied, somewhat sarcastically, and she winked at Yassin, then leaned over and began sucking him off. Slowly, Aisha worked her magic on him, and Yassin closed his eyes as she pleasured him. While sucking his dick, Aisha gently massaged his balls, driving him absolutely nuts. Soon Yassin found himself harder than the proverbial rock, and Aisha knew that she had him right where she wanted him…

“Dammit I want you,” Yassin said, as a grinning Aisha climbed on top of him. Yassin looked at the tall, curvaceous young Muslim woman sitting on his lap, amazed at his sheer luck. Aisha watched as Yassin rolled a condom on his hard dick, then she licked her lips in anticipation. Now we’re in business, Aisha thought as Yassin began his approach into her…

“Feeling is mutual, sexy,” Aisha replied, and she kissed Yassin, then grabbed hold of his dick. It felt long and hard in her hands. Spreading her thighs wide, she welcomed him inside of her. Yassin gripped her hip with one hand and smacked her ass with the other as he thrust into her. Aisha gritted her teeth, welcoming the wicked pleasure and deliciously hot pain she felt down below as Yassin began fucking her with gusto.

“Damn, you’re killing a brother but I like it,” Yassin cried out, wincing as Aisha’s pussy muscles clenched around his dick, gripping him like a vise. The feisty, freaky young woman began grinding against him. Bucking his hips, Yassin thrust into her. Aisha’s big, soft tits swayed this way and that and Yassin naughtily did the motorboat, and Aisha laughed, and continued riding him harder. Yassin fucked her hard, and didn’t let up till Aisha tapped out…

“You’re alright, my favorite Americano, we’re going to get along just fine,” Aisha said, much later, as she and Yassin lay on the couch, reeking of their juices, tenderly entwined in each other’s arms. Yassin nodded at Aisha and kissed her. She kissed him back, then got up, heading to the nearby washroom. Yassin looked at Aisha as she walked away, admiring that big, round ass of hers as she walked away.

“Hot damn, Aisha, I think I’m going to be addicted to that big round booty of yours,” Yassin said, laughing. Aisha paused in front of the washroom door, a golden brown sinned Amazon in all of her glory, her curly dark hair flowing freely on her shoulders, her curvaceous body a most tantalizing sight for his amazed eyes. Aisha abruptly let out a loud, wet fart. As Yassin looked on, shocked, Aisha turned around and winked at him. Laughing, she went into the washroom and closed the door…

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