A Muslim Man in Oklahoma!

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Salutations, dear reader. My name is Gertrude Finkelstein and I am a woman with a rather important story to share with you. I was born in the City of Woodward, Oklahoma, in 1977, to a Jewish American family of German and Polish descent. In the summer of 1995 I moved to Boston, Massachusetts, to study at Northeastern University. I earned a Master’s degree in business administration, and spent the next two decades working for Grant & Cantwell, one of the largest companies in all of New England.

As luck would have it, business and romance awaited me in the City of Boston, crown jewel of New England. I busied myself with work the moment I entered the corporate world. I met a tall, handsome man named George Beckford in the summer of 1999 and we got married in 2003. We divorced in 2009, a few months after I caught George in bed with another man. That man was none other than Dylan Rhodes, a family friend of ours, if you can believe that.

I consider myself a fairly open-minded woman and I would have accepted George had he disclosed to me that he swung both ways but he chose to cheat on me instead. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with male bisexuality or homosexuality. After living in Boston for ages, I consider myself fairly liberal and a major supporter of same-sex marriage rights and GLBT families. Hell, I’m one of those women who enjoys watching gay male porn. The reason why I left George is because he cheated on me. I simply cannot abide a liar, ladies and gentlemen. Simply not how I was raised.

In the winter of 2010, I got let go when a company called Tiburon Enterprises acquired Grant & Cantwell, and decided that they needed a fresh crop of executives. Apparently, as a tall and large, soon-to-be middle-aged white woman, I wasn’t what they were looking for. All the incoming executives were young, male for the most part, and racially diverse. After searching for work in places like Boston, Hartford and beyond, I packed my bags and decided to return to my hometown of Woodward, Oklahoma. A place I hadn’t set foot in for more than two decades. More than twenty years ago I left rural Oklahoma behind and didn’t want to get back. Sadly, fate had other plans.

I returned home, and moved into the house that my parents, long since dead, left for me. The only place that would hire me was the Saint Catherine Library, which serves çanakkale escort pretty much all of Woodward and a few of the neighboring towns. The place is run by Jack Stanwood, the guy I went to the Senior Prom with in 1988. He’s married to Kimberly Prescott, the tall blonde bitch whose guts I absolutely hated in high school. Seeing the two of them together sure brought back some memories. I didn’t mind seeing my first love with my former enemy, though. I moved on since then. I guess time truly does heal.

I am doing my own thing, as they say. Settling into my new life as a small-town librarian, wondering what else life has in store for me. My new existence is dull and uneventful, and four years went by uneventfully. I was basically living a life of quiet desperation…until Abdullah Osman came into my life. The tall, dark and handsome young Somali man from the International Student Program of the Northwestern Oklahoma State University simply took my breath away the first time I laid eyes upon him. He was so different from just about everyone I knew, and carried himself confidently in a way that small-town African-Americans are loath to do.

When Abdullah Osman walked into the Saint Catherine Library and asked the clerk how to go about obtaining a library card, everyone stared at him. Like most places in Oklahoma, Woodward is a mostly white town, with a few Native Americans, African-Americans and others. Even in the Age of Obama, certain things haven’t changed. Foreigners always attract a lot of attention and a bit of xenophobia in small towns. With his golden brown skin, shaved head, beard and Islamic clothing, Abdullah Osman was an exception with a capital E.

Everyone in the library was staring at the tall, oddly attired young black man but Abdullah Osman either didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. Seeking to prevent an incident, I volunteered to help him, and he smiled but politely refused to shake my hand when I finished printing his library card. When I asked him why, Abdullah nodded respectfully and told me that the men of his culture and religion didn’t dare touch women they were unrelated to. Jummah Mubarak sister, Abdullah said to me before bowing slightly and marching out of the library.

I looked at Abdullah Osman’s tall, masculine figure as the young Somali man exited the library. What a çeşme escort man, I thought wistfully. Now, I’ve seen black men before, there are lots of African-Americans in Boston and nearby towns, but Abdullah was definitely a different breed. That much I could tell right away. In order to make a library card for him, I had to ask Abdullah for two pieces of ID and something with his home address on it. Abdullah showed me his University of Western Oklahoma picture ID and his Canadian passport. I’m from Toronto, Abdullah said proudly, before I had a chance to ask.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Abdullah Osman, born in the City of Toronto, Ontario, to Somali immigrants, and I, a small-town white gal, were destined to meet. Two weeks after we met in the library, Abdullah Osman and I ran into each other when I visited my colleague Eileen Dwight at the University of Western Oklahoma’s library. The tall young black man was there with some friends, clad in a simple T-shirt and jeans, and I must say, Abdullah looked gorgeous. We talked and ended up grabbing coffee together.

I learned much about Abdullah Osman that afternoon, and the more I learned, the more fascinated I became. Abdullah told me about Somali culture, and the Islamic faith. I was raised in a Jewish family, but consider myself secular these days. Abdullah and I discussed the nature of God, whom we Jews call Yahweh, and who is called Allah by the Muslims. I nervously told Abdullah that I wasn’t religious and hadn’t been to the synagogue in years. Abdullah encouraged me to reconnect with my faith, and then, smiling slyly, asked me for my number. Giggling like a giddy schoolgirl, I gave him my digits.

Abdullah and I got together a few days later, and grabbed a bite at Wolf’s Lair, a local restaurant. We had a lot of fun, talking about everything and nothing. Abdullah was friendly and easygoing, and way more mature than I thought any 22-year-old male had any right to be. I wanted to know more about him, and found him charming. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual. That’s how it all began, ladies and gentlemen. My friendship and subsequent affair with the handsome Somali gentleman, Abdullah Osman, the sexiest brother on the planet.

One night, after exiting the movie theater, I invited Abdullah to my place. Once we got there, we didn’t do much talking. Seriously, diyarbakır escort I hadn’t had sex in ages. Is it any wonder I practically threw myself at Abdullah? The gorgeous Somali stud watched as I undressed before him, nervously at first, then more confidently. I’m a tall, large woman with pale skin, pale eyes and dark hair. Most men don’t find me attractive. Abdullah assured me he found me beautiful. I smiled coyly and bared myself to him. A freckle-faced, porcelain-skinned, chubby woman with big tits and wide hips, that’s me.

Abdullah smiled at me, then walked up to me and kissed me full and deep. Passionately we embraced. Taking my hand, Abdullah took me to bed. Kissing him back, I giggled as he caressed my breasts and his hand slipped between my thighs. Abdullah kissed a path from my tits to my round belly, and finally made his way to the space between my thighs. I held my breath as Abdullah began licking and fingering my pussy. I was hairy and hadn’t used vaginal deodorant that day, so I was understandably nervous but Abdullah didn’t care.

The fine brother from Somalia began licking my pussy like there was no tomorrow. I found myself giggling, then moaning as Abdullah stuck his tongue into my cunt and teased my clit with his fingers. I cried out in pleasure as Abdullah worked his unique brand of Somali magic on me. Left me absolutely breathless. Later, Abdullah really put it to me. Putting me on all fours, Abdullah gave my thick white Jewish booty a sound spanking before sliding his long and thick Somali dick into my cunt.

Placing his hands on my hips, Abdullah thrust his dick deep into me. I licked my lips as he began fucking me with deep, powerful thrusts. Abdullah fucked me real good, slamming his dick deep inside of me. He grabbed my hair and pulled it while mercilessly ramming me. I cried out, and begged him for more. I hadn’t gotten a good fucking in ages and I definitely wanted to make up for lost time. Abdullah pounded into me roughly, fucking me with wild abandon. And I loved every damn minute of it.

Afterwards, Abdullah and I lay side by side on my bed, our bodies covered with our own juices, and I smiled at him. Abdullah winked at me after I thanked him for a wonderful time. That night, I fell asleep in the arms of one Abdullah Osman. A gorgeous Muslim gentleman of Somali descent, born and raised in Ontario, Canada. I’m a small-town Jewish gal from Woodward, Oklahoma and I found sex, romance and even the possibility of love in the unlikeliest of places. I’m in love with a Muslim man and I’m a Jewish woman! Life happens while you’re making plans, I guess.

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