Masuma Assad Khalid

"Masuma Assad Khalid, you are certainly a controversial young woman," Ali Crawford said, smiling at the Hijab-wearing young South Asian Muslim woman sitting opposite him. The two of them sat inside the Bridgehead Café located in downtown Ottawa, within walking distance of various businesses and government buildings, including Parliament Hill. At this hour, the café was busy, but they might as well be the only ones inside for all that they cared...

Passersby glanced at the rather interesting twosome which sat at a quiet corner of Bridgehead Cafe, talking quite animatedly over coffee. A well-dressed, handsome young black man and a curvy young woman of South Asian descent wearing the Hijab. The only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that there was a camera recording everything that they were saying and doing...

"Salaam, brother, please call me Mama, everyone does, and by the way, all I did was stand up for what was right," Masuma Khalid said softly, and Ali nodded, considering the person sitting opposite him. As a graduate student at Carleton University and a representative of The Charmer, the well-known, often edgy university student newspaper, it was Ali's task to interview one of the most controversial newcomers to the graduate student club.

Masuma "Mama" Khalid made waves around Canada, and perhaps the world, when she spoke against the not so subtle racism at the University of Halifax in Nova Scotia. In Canada, unlike the United States, racism is often subtle, but ever present, and even in these so-called liberal and progressive times, people of color who spoke out against the system were often targeted for reprisal. The University of Halifax at first put Mama Khalid on suspension, then withdrew the disciplinary action against her due to public outcry.

When Mama spoke up against institutional racism at Canadian universities, all kinds of people got pissed. Among them were the lunatic fringe, the xenophobes for whom Masuma Khalid would never be a true Canadian because of her Islamic faith and skin color. They posted all kinds of vitriol online, including threats, and this prompted the University of Halifax to cease all disciplinary actions against Masuma Khalid.

"Mama, please, call me Clay, I'm a grad student just like you," Ali replied, and Mama smiled. When she smiled, her lovely round face lit up. Clad in a long-sleeved hooded black sweatshirt and black sweatpants, her head covered by a dark Hijab, Mama Khalid managed to look both modern and stylish, yet with a cool, laid back kind of style. Casual Hijabi chic, Ali thought with a smile.

"Alright, Clay it is," Mama replied with a smile, and Ali nodded. Prior to the interview, he'd done his homework on Mama Khalid. The curvy, brown-skinned, dark-haired and brown-eyed gal was born in the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, to Indian Muslim immigrant parents, Faisal and Farroukh Khalid. Tall, bodacious, beautiful and outspoken, Mama Khalid apparently never found a human rights cause she didn't like...

According to Masuma Khalid's profile, she recently graduated from the University of Halifax with a bachelor's degree in political science. The gal also spoke up in solidarity with Indigenous people around the world, black victims of state-sponsored violence in America, and more. She'd gone to Washington D.C. to march with women's rights activism and protest against gender-based oppression. Mama Khalid was fiery, and she was just getting started. What a woman, Ali thought.

"Clay, can I ask you a question?" Mama Khalid said, and Clay's ears perked up, and he looked at her intently. Mama Khalid leaned forward, and pursed her lips. The gal's tone of voice was soft, friendly, and almost meek, but her body envelope, nope, her body language was anything but. Ali, a journalism major at Carleton University, definitely knew how to read people and Mama Khalid was far from the timid gal that she was pretending to be...

"Sure, Masuma, I mean, Mama, ask me anything," Ali replied as he sipped his coffee, and Mama looked at him, a coy smile on her round, beautiful face. When Clay's eyes met Mama's, for some reason his heart skipped a beat, and he felt nervous. In his six years as a journalism student at Carleton University, Clay had perfected the art of the interview, and spoken to everyone from student leaders to local politicians, and more. So what is it about Masuma "Mama" Khalid that made him so nervous?

"Do you flirt with all of your interviewees or am I special?" Masuma Khalid asked Ali, point-blank, and she watched the tall, handsome and well-dressed young black man try in vain not to squirm in his seat. Ali tried to keep his cool and failed, then flashed Masuma a bright grin. The young woman's no-nonsense ways were legendary at this point...

"Oh shit," Ali thought, and he watched as Masuma licked those lips of hers, a rather distracting gesture which sent a thrill down his...not spine, and paused. He forced himself to be calm, adopting a nonchalant demeanor as Masuma looked at him coolly, her behavior that of a woman who thought she had the upper hand. The kitty definitely has claws, Ali thought, admiring Masuma's slyness...

"Ma'am, I try to be friendly and charming, but I'm always a professional, if I offended you, I'm sorry," Ali said, and although his words were serious, his tone of voice was not. Masuma leaned back in her chair, a coy smile on her lovely face, the epitome of calm, cool and collected. And she was not buying an ounce of what he was selling, that much Ali could tell readily...

"Hmm, you were doing so well, and then you lost your spine," Masuma said, rolling her eyes, and then she got up. Ali waited all of three seconds, then rose as well. He shut off the camera, and went after Masuma, who by then had emerged onto Metcalfe Street, one of the busiest spots in the Canadian Capital. She was making her way to the nearby bus stop, and he got distracted by the undulations of her rather considerable derriere...

"Masuma, wait," Ali hollered loudly, and several people turned to look at him. Masuma paused, hands on her hips, grinning as she watched him approach. Ali tucked the camera away in his fanny pack ( not a man-bag ) and then drew closer to the clearly amused Masuma. Smiling and holding out his hands in a nonthreatening manner, Ali closed the gap between them.

"What do you want from me, Ali? We've got about ten friends in common and you've liked about fifty images of me on Facebook, and I've seen your photos of Hijab-wearing models, I don't think your interest in me is purely academic," Masuma said, matter-of-factly. Ali bit his lip, as the feistiness that he admired so much in Masuma came back to bite him in the ass...

"Cat got your tongue?" Masuma said, smiling wickedly, and the hurt look on Ali's dark, handsome face gave her pause. In Masuma's experience with a lot of men, especially Muslim men, they tended to underestimate her. Masuma, who grew up playing rugby with the fellas in her neighborhood back in Halifax, Nova Scotia, knew how their minds worked. Ali had underestimated her at his own risk...

"Well, Masuma, you're actually one of my heroes," Ali said, and Masuma looked into his eyes, searching for he knew not what. Knowing that Masuma's bullshit detector was one of the keenest, Clayton knew he had to be sincere. Inwardly, he looked for the right words, thinking of how he felt when news first broke out about the feisty South Asian Muslim female student who was standing up to the Powers That Be at a certain university in Nova Scotia.

"You actually mean that," Masuma said softly, and Ali nodded. The tall young black man sighed deeply, and glanced at the people rushing on the OC Transpo buses heading to the east end of Ottawa. Masuma, a newcomer to Ottawa by way of Halifax, was still getting her bearings in the Canadian Capital. The U-Pass that she'd been given by the Carleton University Student Affiliation worked on every bus and train type in Ottawa, making things a little bit easier...

"Masuma, I know you've been through a lot, people deceive you, and you had your entire campus against you for speaking out against racism, I admire you for that, I know why you're cynical but I promise you, I'm not the enemy," Clayton said with a bright smile. The brother then made a fist and held out his hand, looking at her in a meaningful, expectant manner...

"I hope you mean it," Masuma said hesitantly, and then she bumped her fist against Ali's, and smiled faintly. They returned to Bridgehead Café and properly concluded the rather eventful interview. At the end of it, Masuma surprised Ali, and herself, by giving him her number. She'd just gotten a new Ottawa phone number after signing up for the Freedom Mobile network.

"Masuma, my sister in Islam, our friendship is going to be the stuff of legend," Ali said to Masuma, and he bumped his fist against hers. After wishing her a good day, he crossed the street and headed up to Parliament Hill. Apparently, he had some business to conduct there. Masuma watched him go, and a slick smile crept into her lovely face. Ali Crawford definitely has a way with words and a cute butt, Masuma thought, chuckling to herself.

When Masuma Khalid got home, she took a shower, then went to the computer and did some research. Her topic of choice? Ali Crawford. According to what she found online, Ali Crawford was born in Chicago, Illinois, and then, about a decade ago, his father, Malik El-Hajj Crawford moved the family to Ottawa, Ontario. The brother had dual American/Canadian citizenship, and was apparently a follower of the Nation of Islam, the same Americanized brand of Islam that produced Masuma's favorite icon, Malcolm X.

"Goodness gracious," Masuma thought with a smile as she checked out Ali Crawford's Facebook profile. The brother was standing shirtless on the beach, sandwiched between two young women, a Latina named Sasha Perez, and an Indian gal named Ramanpreet Chowdury. Masuma felt her heart wince as she checked out the next picture, which featured Ali making out with the Indian gal. So Ali likes South Asian women, Masuma thought darkly.

Masuma's next search was for Ramanpreet Chowdury, whom she assumed was Ali Crawford's girlfriend. She was thoroughly relieved, for reasons she couldn't explain, when the profile revealed that Miss Chowdury had returned to Punjab, India, after graduating from Carleton University the previous year. Masuma smiled, and licked her lips as she returned to Ali Crawford's page. The brother was definitely intriguing...

The next time Masuma ran into Ali, she accosted him, on the pretext of discussing the differences between Sunni Islam, and the Nation of Islam. What followed was an hour-long chat inside The Page Break, the Starbucks located inside the Carleton University campus library. After that, the two of them went for a walk around campus, and got to know each other a little better. When Ali finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, Masuma hesitated for all of ten seconds. Game, set and match...

"The Predator looks interesting," Masuma said to Ali as they stood in line at the Scotiabank movie theater in the east end of Ottawa, one bright Tuesday afternoon in September. Ali nodded, and then began to provide the kind of lengthy, heavily detailed and utterly passionate erudition on the Alien and Predator movies that only die-hard fans would know.

"Hmm, what the franchise needs is to bring a sexy female bad-ass like Sigourney Weaver to fight these monsters," Ali said, and Masuma grinned and shook her head, marveling at him as a lustful grin and a faraway look crept into his face. When he didn't snap out of it fast enough, Masuma playfully poked Ali in the ribs, and the brother blushed.

"Yeah, well, Mr. Crawford, you're out with me, not her, don't make me jealous," Masuma said jokingly and Ali looked at her, surprised by her words. Behind every joke or pleasantry there is always a grain of truth, Ali thought, remembering something a psychology student buddy of his used to rant about. Masuma was smiling at him as they stood in line, and for once, he could see right through her apparent nonchalance...

"Mama, my dear feisty lady with the sharp tongue, Sigourney Weaver got nothing on you," Ali said, and then, with his heart thundering in his chest, and his self-doubt warning him against making a colossal mistake, he took Masuma's face in his hands. Masuma's heart skipped a beat, and she watched Ali's handsome face draw her. It's now or never, the young woman thought, both thrilled and agonized by what was about to unfold...

"Ali, shut up and kiss me," Masuma said, right before kissing the handsome but talkative Chicagoan. Thus Ali and Masuma shared their first kiss. They got so into each other that other moviegoers lining up at the box office had to tap on Ali's shoulder to get his attention. Ali looked at Masuma and grinned as they came up for air, and they suddenly became aware of the other moviegoers gawking at them.

"I got this," Ali said, taking out his RBC debit card, and paying for their tickets. Next, he and Masuma went to grab food and drinks before heading into theater seven to watch The Predator. After the movie, they went for a walk around the Gloucester area, wandering all over Ogilvie Road before returning to the Blair Mall, right across from the Scotiabank movie theater.

"You've got sweet lips, back there, I just had to shut you up," Masuma said to Ali, as they sat at a table inside the Blair Mall food court, sipping Pepsis. Ali looked at the gorgeous, feisty young woman sitting opposite him and smiled. Clad in a long-sleeved red shirt and with a golden, flowery type of pattern, and yoga pants, her ebony Hijab framing her round, lovely face, Masuma was smoking hot without even trying...

"A man's got to know when to speak and when to act," Ali replied, and then he took Masuma's hand and brought it to his lips. Masuma grinned, her hand tickling where Ali's full, gorgeous lips touched her. Arm in arm, they left the mall, and took the bus. For Ali, this was a sweet, remarkable new beginning. He'd dated a lot of flaky gals of all hues as a self-styled campus newsman. He could sense that Masuma Khalid was not like that at all...

"Good answer," Masuma said, and she playfully whacked Ali's ass, causing him to grin in sheer surprise. Dammit, conventional wisdom states that Hijab-wearing Muslim girls from Southern Asia are supposed to be soft and sweet, not boldly grabbing a brother's ass on a first date, Ali thought, and he looked at Masuma carefully. There was a world of passion in those eyes of hers, one which he yearned to explore. Might as well go with the flow...

"The naughty Hijabi strikes again," Ali said, and Masuma winked at him, then shrugged and smiled innocently. At the conclusion of this memorable first date, he called Blue Line taxi and sent her home, handing a twenty to the old dude behind the wheel. Masuma blew Ali a kiss as the car sped away, and he grinned. In his twenty five years upon this earth, Ali Crawford couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy...

That night, as Masuma Khalid lay on her bed, thinking about the events of the day, she felt giddy with happiness. Ali Crawford was full of wonderful surprises. The brother was smart, handsome, and knew how to treat a lady. Of course, he was a bit too gentlemanly for her liking but that cute butt of his was worth sticking around for. The boy is mine, Masuma thought, echoing the lyrics of a 1990s song she grew up loving. She fell asleep with a smile on her face and a song in her heart...

Masuma Assad Khalid and Ali Crawford became a couple, surprising virtually everyone at Carleton University and elsewhere. To say that they came from different worlds didn't do them justice. Ali had a bad reputation as a campus womanizer and a heretic who clung to his Nation of Islam beliefs instead of adhering to Sunni Islam. Masuma Khalid was the enfant terrible of the campus feminist scene, she was brown, wore a Hijab, and openly mocked white feminists who disagreed with her for their 'white tears' and white fragility. Yeah, they made a controversial but fun couple...

"Masuma, I know you said that white fragility can kiss your ass but can a brother kiss that ass first?" Ali said to his beloved, one night as they came home from dinner and a movie. They'd eaten some tasty Caribbean food at a restaurant called Soleil Des Iles, and then watched the movie Alpha at the Rainbow Cinema. After that, they returned to Ali's apartment in Vanier to satisfy a different kind of hunger...

"I thought you'd never ask, pucker up, handsome," Masuma said, grinning, as Ali knelt behind her. She stood in front of the washroom mirror, clad in a tank top and blue sweatpants, her Hijab still on. Ali smiled and pulled down Masuma's sweatpants, and was pleased to see that she wasn't wearing any panties. Her big brown ass stared at him, and the brother licked his lips...hungrily.

"Real men eat ass," Ali said, talking to himself as much as to Masuma as he literally kissed her thick derriere, then went to work on her. Masuma took her Hijab and top off, then leaned over the washroom counter, sticking her big butt out and giving Ali a great visual to work with as he did his thing. He began eating her pussy from behind, and at the same time, he fingered her butt hole. This is so haram but I love it, Masuma thought, moaning softly as Ali did his thing...

"Oh shit, Ali, habibi, oh yes, stick that tongue up in there," Masuma squealed, as Ali went to town on her, three of his agile fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy while he buried his tongue in her asshole. Masuma's bum had long been her pleasure spot, and in Ali she found a lover who enjoyed this sort of activity as much as she did. Ali lathered Masuma's butt hole with his tongue, and ate her out, delighting in the taste of her bum...

"Mama, you're gorgeous and nasty and I can't get enough of you," Ali said, much later, as he kissed Masuma before they continued with their activities. She kissed him back passionately as he laid her on his living room carpet and caressed her breasts. Ali's lips wrapped themselves around Masuma's erect nipples, and he began pleasuring her in ways she'd only dared to imagine before. The brother knew his way around the female body, that's for damn sure...

"Hmm, let me sit on your face, Ali, you know you want me to," Masuma said, as Ali began to bring his face toward her crotch. Ali thought about it for all of two seconds, smiled and nodded. Lying flat on the carpet, he looked up as Masuma's curvy, Amazonian body drew near, taking in her large, firm breasts, her wide hips, her thick thighs, and that big brown ass. Masuma sat on Ali's face, and he inhaled her womanly fragrance, then eagerly tasted her anew...

"Yes ma'am," Ali said, and he grasped Masuma's big ass cheeks with both hands, and resumed eating her ass. Masuma rode Ali's face, loving the feel of his tongue in her butt hole. Rubbing her breasts together, she licked her lips and sighed happily as her lover worked his magic. While riding Ali's face, Masuma noticed that his long, dark dick was hard as a rock. Leaning forward, she grabbed his manhood and began stroking it, marveling at his thickness...

"Let me taste you," Masuma said to Ali, while rising from his face, and he nodded, watching her big ass sashay from side to side as she got up. She got on all fours and spread his legs, grabbing his dick with both hands. Ali's eyes followed Masuma's every move as she brought her lovely face close to his manhood and then took him into her mouth. Slowly, gently, Masuma sucked him off, and a happy sigh escaped Ali's lips. The Chicagoan Muslim brother had just found Jannah...

A couple's first time making love is always memorable, and for two souls as unique as Masuma and Ali, this was definitely true. After polishing her lover's manhood with her slick tongue, Masuma found herself on all fours, face down and ass up, as Ali made love to her. Rubbing his hard dick against her big butt, Ali gripped Masuma's wide hips and thrust into her. Masuma groaned, feeling at once violated yet wonderfully filled, and she leaned against Ali, driving his manhood deeper inside of her...