A Somali Canadian Prince in Love

Honestly, I couldn't take much more of it. After half an hour of getting fucked in my ass by Nabiha's strap-on dildo, I was spent. Seriously, I'd had enough. Yet Nabiha wouldn't relent. While pounding my ass with her dildo, she leaned over and gently sucked my dick. It didn't take me long to cum after that. Hell, I came violently, and screamed louder than ever before. Something about getting my dick sucked by my lady's sweet lips while her dildo's up my ass drove me over the edge. I can't explain it. It's almost as if my 'on button' is located somewhere in my ass. Weird, eh? After this memorable whatever-you-want-to-call-it, Nabiha and I lay side by side on the bed, soaking in our juices. I felt weirdly happy, to tell you the truth. It was definitely an experience I would never forget.

Time went by, and Nabiha and I continued living our lives. She got a job working at her college library and quit cleaning office buildings. I'm very happy for her, because someone as smart and as determined as her should be doing something more challenging and worthwhile. My mom and my uncle Bob came to visit us from Red Deer during the Christmas season, and they were thrilled to meet Nabiha. My mom was a bit uncomfortable due to Nabiha's apparent religiosity and the age gap between us but once she got to know Nabiha, mom relaxed. I just want you to be happy, mom told me at the airport before hugging me goodbye.

When school resumed in January, Nabiha and I hit a snag. A letter came from C.I.C. stating that the Canadian government was rejecting her refugee claim, denying her refugee status, and basically telling her that within a year or two, they would find a way to kick her out of the country. Nabiha's lovely eyes filled with tears as she handed me the letter. I read and re-read it. Sobbing, Nabiha stormed out of the room, and ran out of the apartment. I followed Nabiha outside, and finally caught up with her as she got ready to cross the street.

All my dreams are gone, Nabiha said, tears streaming down her beautiful eyes. I held her trembling body in my arms. Don't say that, I pleaded. Nabiha glared at me, anger and sadness in her eyes. You don't get it because you were born here, she said, shaking her head as she pushed against me. Calm down sweetie, I begged of her. Nabiha wouldn't calm down. Indeed, this strong and beautiful woman I cared so much had a fit of hysterics right there in front of our apartment building. I had to bodily escort her back to our apartment. Hey, it's for her own good, alright?

That night, Nabiha slept next to me, her nerves finally cracking and leaving her badly in need of rest, physically and mentally. I lay next to her, pondering what I should do. I called my mom the following morning, and explained to her what was going on. Mom listened, then told me her take on the whole thing. You should be careful with her, she cautioned me. When I asked her why, mom told me how, as an impressionable young woman in the late 1980s, she met my biological father Yousef Abdullahi in Calgary and fell in love with him. Since he came to Canada as a refugee claimant, mom decided to sponsor him. He stuck around long enough to get his permanent residency, then left her broke and pregnant.

Wow, was all I could say. My mom didn't like talking about my father while I was growing up. As far as I knew, he was back in Somalia. Now she drops this on me. My father might still be in Canada. The things our parents keep from us, eh? For a long moment I remained silent. Awesome timing mom, I said at last. Somalis are manipulators and deceivers my son you shouldn't trust Nabiha, mom said. I shook my head. It's my life, I said, then hung up without so much a goodbye.

When Nabiha woke up, she found a scrumptious breakfast of eggs, halal hot dogs and coffee waiting for her. Thank you sweetie, she said, her eyes still red, though whether from sleep or crying I couldn't tell. I've thought about our problem, I said. Go on, Nabiha mumbled. Let's have a civil wedding and then I can file for you with the government, I said. Nabiha stared hard at me. It's my problem not yours, she said. I shook my head. We're in this together, I said, gently taking her hand in mine and giving it a squeeze. Nabiha looked me in the eye and shook her head. I won't do it, she said, dead serious. I stared at her. What are you saying? I asked, confused.

Nabiha got up from her seat and walked up to me. I love you Omar but I won't let you sacrifice your future for me, she said, gently kissing my forehead. Wait a minute Na, I pleaded. Nabiha smiled and shook her head. We're not ready for the whole marriage and brats thing my love, she said sadly, sighing. I want you in my life, I said to her, my voice breaking. Nabiha shook her head. I don't deserve you my prince, she said. Leaning over, she kissed me on the lips. And just like that, she put on her coat, and walked out of our apartment, and out of my life. I sat there, beyond shocked. I wanted to go after her, to plead with her to stay but I couldn't. It was as if my legs were encased in lead.

For a long moment, I sat at the table, our table, wondering what in hell went wrong. When I finally got it in me to get up, I looked for Nabiha. I couldn't find her at Algonquin College, or anywhere else. The registrar's office told me that she'd withdrawn from her courses, and simply left. The head of the college library staff stated that Nabiha quit working there. I looked for her in a thousand places, and couldn't find her. I must have visited every mosque in town, every cultural gathering of Somalis, and try as I might, I couldn't find her.

For a long time I looked for her. Alas, Nabiha didn't want to be found and no force on earth could compel her to return to me. I looked for her on Facebook, Twitter and even Instagram and couldn't find hair nor hide of her, as they say. After about two months of this, I returned to my family in Red Deer, Alberta. I returned to my mom's place, and reunited with my folks. Mom and I exchanged apologies and shared forgiveness. In the end, all you got is your family. Red Deer is still a boring, redneck type of town but it's home. In Ottawa, I had fun but I also experienced heartache the likes of which I once could only imagine. Now I know better. First love and the unique pleasures and pains it can bring, man. Nothing like it.

I transferred to the University of Calgary the following year, and I'm studying hard. I intend to graduate from this school. The City of Calgary isn't as big as Ottawa or Toronto but it's eons ahead of Red Deer in terms of size, population and racial diversity. I like my new life in Calgary. On weekends I go back to Red Deer to see my mom and uncle. Do I still think about Nabiha? Absolutely. You never forget your first love, whether they truly deserve to be remembered or not. Wherever she is, I hope she's happy.

I'm enjoying myself in Calgary, and I'm also exploring my newfound passion for all things BDSM. I met a young lady named Kristin Villeneuve at a BDSM munch for female dominants and male submissive types. Kristin is tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed, with tattoos and a fondness for motorcycles. She's a civil engineering student at the University of Lethbridge. Kristin and I totally hit it off, and we've been seeing each other since that day. I'm into her but I'm taking it easy. No need to rush into anything, you know? No matter how much you think you know someone, or how much you care for them, there's still a lot you will never know about them. How did I come by this knowledge at such a young age? Life is the teacher, my friends.