Bisexual Men’s Wives Ch. 16

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“Can I help you, bud? You’ve been staring at me and following me for a while,” Jamal Stephens said, and the big and tall young black man glared angrily at his latest stalker. Just another creep who became fascinated with Jamal and started following him around. This wasn’t an act of cruising but straight-up stalking, the one thing which Jamal doesn’t tolerate…

Where in Hell were they coming from all of a sudden? Jamal wondered, pissed off at this latest incident. The City of Ottawa was becoming stalker central, seriously. The stalker in question happened to be a skinny, pale, tight-clothes-wearing, finger-snapping creep whose eyes widened like saucers when Jamal confronted him. Got you now, Jamal thought, irate.

The two of them stood in front of Nordstrom, one of the Rideau Shopping Center’s busiest stores. Folks walking by stared at the confrontation between the big and tall, dark-skinned African American man and his pale, slender opponent. They might assume they knew who was the aggressor and who was the wronged party, and they’d be dead wrong. Refusing to back down, Jamal was determined to get some answers out of the Pale Bozo, who just stared awkwardly, as though at a loss for words.

Jamal noticed the Bozo following him ever since he got off the number twelve bus which he’d been riding since Blair Station. The dude had a staring problem, to say the least. He gawked at Jamal the way a hungry man looks at fast food. When Jamal hurried into the mall, the bozo followed suit. Escalator after escalator, step by step, the dude followed Jamal.

“Um, sorry,” the Bozo replied, looking clearly uncomfortable, and Jamal, seriously pissed, got in the fucker’s face. The dude flinched, even though Jamal didn’t touch him. The City of Ottawa, Ontario, is full of stalkers and weirdoes, and most of the time, the locals have a passive aggressive way of dealing with one another. Jamal doesn’t subscribe to that doctrine. Nope, he believed in confronting a motherfucker…

“Quit following me if you know what’s good for you, fucking weirdo,” Jamal said to the quivering Bozo, and then he walked away. As Jamal exited the mall, a 95 double-decker OC Transpo bus heading toward Nepean, Ontario, arrived. Jamal boarded the semi-full bus and swiped his red and white bus pass against the mechanical reader while the bus driver nodded. Looking over his shoulder, Jamal was relieved that the Bozo didn’t try to board the bus…

The 95 bus continued to barrel down the streets of downtown Ottawa. Jamal pulled a comic book out of his backpack and allowed himself to relax. Taking out his Alcatel cell phone, Jamal went on YouTube and looked for something to listen to. It would be a while before the bus reached Nepean. Jamal went to check out a video tribute to Megan, a tall, Amazonian MMA fighter of Australian descent whose work he admired.

Megan the MMA fighter reminded Jamal Stephens of Brigida, a young Italian-American woman whom he met in Mobile, Alabama, a long time ago. Brigida, hailing from Quincy, Massachusetts, was a newcomer to the Yellowhammer State and Jamal was quite taken with the tall, freckle-faced, dark-haired young woman. They dated for a while, but split after graduation. Brigida returned to Massachusetts, and Jamal moved to Ontario, Canada.

“Now that’s more like it,” Jamal said to himself, listening to epic music as Megan beat the living hell out of other female fighters in the Octagon. Jamal, who used to wrestle back in his halcyon days at the University of Alabama, had become obsessed with all things MMA and UFC in recent years. The UFC might eclipse professional boxing someday…

Putting down the comic, Jamal watched the video of Megan’s highlights. He felt a stir down below as the Amazon’s world-famous ass cheeks jiggled as she headed to the weigh-in before one of the many fights which she won. Dammit, if all Australian gals are shaped like Megan the MMA hottie, I might move down there, Jamal thought, smiling.

When the bus reached Baseline Station, a lot of people got on, and some got off. A couple of passengers caught Jamal’s attention. A curvy, dark-skinned young African woman in a pink tank top and Yoga pants was laughing at something her white male friend said. The gentleman in question was tall, skinny, and although he was nice-looking, he sounded more than a tad bit effeminate.

“Can I help you?” said the young African woman in a haughty tone of voice upon noticing that Jamal was looking in her direction. She stood there, one hand on her hip, the other possessively gripping the waist of Mr. Effeminate. Jamal rolled his eyes, wishing that black women would stop trying to show off their white male friends and/or significant others to whatever brother happened to be nearby. It was a tired and boring game…

“Hello there,” said Mr. Effeminate, and he stared at Jamal, who felt an unpleasant shiver down his spine. Jamal, a proud son of Tuskegee, Alabama’s most liberal town, was by no means homophobic or intolerant, but he found men who acted and sounded canl─▒ bahis like women to be…annoying as fuck. He was polite but distant when he had to deal with them in the context of work and whatnot.

“Not interested in effeminate guys or their female shopping buddies, I find both to be equally boring,” Jamal replied loudly, taking off his headphones for emphasis. He looked at Miss Haughty and Mr. Effeminate and smiled as they gawked at him, as though they couldn’t believe their damn ears. The sister looked pissed and started to cuss Jamal out, but her friend or whatever he was to her took her arm and shook his head.

“Whatever, let’s go sit upstairs,” Mr. Effeminate told Miss Haughty, and they walked away. When they went upstairs and disappeared from view, Jamal breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one, Jamal thought. He was about to go back to watching YouTube videos when he felt someone looking at him. Looking up, Jamal’s eyes met those of a most unexpected fellow…

“You handled that well,” said the man, and he smiled at Jamal and nodded understandingly. Jamal looked at the stranger, who was possibly mixed-race, Black plus something else, forty-something and well-dressed. He had the look of a government worker heading home after a long day of toiling away at an office downtown. The man’s voice was deep and his mannerisms were…normal. Jamal nodded in approval and returned his smile.

“Thank you, brother,” Jamal said, and he was about to get up and go to sit closer to the handsome stranger when he noticed that he wasn’t alone. There was an attractive black woman seated next to him, and she wore a stylish red and white summer dress that showed off her curves and spectacular legs. The lady’s eyes met those of a stunned Jamal, whose smile froze.

“Come on over, handsome,” said the stranger, and Jamal looked at the man, whose hand held that of his female friend, or companion, or wife, and hesitated. Jamal knew that there were lots of masculine bisexual black men out there. He couldn’t stand the effeminate bozos, the stalkers or the cruisers. Jamal likes women, sexually speaking, but when he does get that urge for some manly fun, he likes other bisexual guys. Well, Jamal like the ones who look normal, sound normal and act normal. Effeminate bozos need not apply.

“Good afternoon, folks, I’m Jamal,” he told the stranger as he shook hands with him and his female companion. Seated across from the attractive but decidedly odd couple, Jamal felt a pleasant frisson down his spine. Whoever this man was, he was handsome, evidently successful, and swung both ways. It’s like looking into a mirror, Jamal thought.

“Nice to meet you, Jamal, I’m Mr. Diallo and this is my wife Ramatoulaye,” the stranger said, smiling. Jamal looked at the lovely black couple and nodded. They were African immigrants for sure, and definitely Muslims, from their names. Jamal, who’d been living in Ottawa for the past three years, had become fascinated with Africans lately. A myriad cultures to explore and connect with…

“You two seem amazing, blessings to you both,” Jamal said evenly, like the church-going brother that his parents, Franklin Stephens and Annabelle Leander-Stephens of Tuskegee, Alabama, raised him to be. Mr. Diallo and his wife Ramatoulaye exchanged a smile, and then looked at Jamal, quietly assessing him. Jamal, being a fairly handsome son of the south, is used to having both women and men check him out. Still, he’d never been checked out by a couple, that’s for damn sure…

“So, Jamal, where are you from?” Ramatoulaye said, smiling at him in a way that no woman should smile at another man while her husband is around. Jamal pushed down the slight discomfort that he felt in this socially awkward but thrilling situation. He looked at Mr. Diallo, puzzled. The African Muslim gentleman definitely saw the way his wife looked at Jamal, and kept on smiling. What was going on here?

“I’m from Alabama, ma’am, I came to Ottawa after getting a job offer from Ericsson Canada Inc. and here I am,” Jamal said proudly, and the couple smiled at him, looking suitably impressed. Jamal, who’d earned a bachelor’s degree in computer science from the University of Alabama and an MBA from Tuskegee University, was used to having Canadians impressed by his credentials and accomplishments. They weren’t used to seeing foreign black businessmen succeed this far up North…

“Nice, I teach African Studies at Carleton University, and my husband and I came from Benin,” Ramatoulaye said, licking her full lips and Jamal nodded. He smiled at the lovely African couple, even more impressed than before. Jamal had visited several colleges and universities in the Ottawa area when he first moved there from Alabama and the dearth of black teachers was something which he found appalling. Even in the Deep South, black teachers were far from scarce…

“Jamal, if you don’t mind, I’ll address the elephant in the room, I am bisexual, and my wife Ramatoulaye knows and supports me, we typically try to befriend kindred bahis siteleri spirits, are you such a spirit?” Mr. Diallo said, grinning at the younger man. Jamal shifted in his seat, and looked from the lovely Ramatoulaye, a curvy West African goddess, to her handsome, free-spirited husband. Smiling, Jamal nodded firmly.

“Yes, Brother Diallo, I am bisexual, gay folks don’t like it but I like ladies and fellas, and I’m discrete and play safe,” Jamal said, and the couple smiled at him and nodded. Jamal exhaled sharply, relief washing over him in an awesome way. He felt great to be talking like this with kindred spirits. It’s always nice to be understood…

In Jamal’s experience, being understood is definitely a rare event. Straight folks simply didn’t understand bisexual men, bisexual women usually disliked bisexual men, and gay men went out of their way to deny and erase the very existence of bisexual men. Jamal didn’t know what lesbians thought of bisexual men but it probably wasn’t favorable. What’s a bisexual brother to do when faced with such overwhelming hostility?

“Jamal, you can call me Nassirou, and I’m glad to have met you,” Mr. Diallo said, and Ramatoulaye looked from her hubby to Jamal, and smiled. Jamal nodded, and thanked his lucky stars to have met such an amazing couple. They bantered all the way to Nepean. When the bus arrived at Marketplace Station in the Barrhaven area, the three of them parted ways, after exchanging contact information, of course.

“Best wishes, my friends, I hope to hear from you, you certainly made my day, it’s nice to know I’m not a unicorn,” Jamal said, and Nassirou Diallo shook his hand while Ramatoulaye kissed him on the cheek. Jamal waved them goodbye and then began the long walk to Cambrian Avenue, where his uncle Jasper Stephens lived with his wife Adele. They were expecting him for supper…

Thus one of the most exciting chapters of Jamal Stephens life began. Three days after this memorable first encounter, he met with Nassirou and Ramatoulaye at Bridgehead and they had coffee as they discussed anything and everything. Jamal learned that Nassirou worked for the Department of Public Works as a mid-level manager. The Diallos were doing alright for themselves. The couple’s daughter Amina was living in Montreal, Quebec, while studying at McGill.

“Jamal, if we are to play together, Rama and I have rules,” Nassirou told the young man, as they sat and drink coffee inside Bridgehead. Jamal nodded, and in a few simple words, Ramatoulaye and Nassirou explained to him what they expected of him. A lot of young men in similar situations might have found the couple’s rules to be strange, but not Jamal…

“Jamal, Nassirou and I only play with men who like both sexes, and they must be healthy, safe, and able to play by our rules, we require an STD test,” Ramatoulaye said evenly. Jamal looked at the lovely Beninese Muslim woman and her hunky husband Nassirou and smiled, for they were people after his own heart. Finally, another bisexual man who preferred women and liked to play it safe instead of being one of those bozos who cruised and exposed themselves to danger and illness for no reason…

“I’m more than okay with that, folks, I don’t run around cruising and I avoid creeps and weirdoes, I am bisexual and normal, and I don’t mind taking a health test, no worries,” Jamal replied enthusiastically. The relieved smiles on Nassirou and Ramatoulaye’s faces informed Jamal that he’d given the right answer. The three of them agreed to meet at the Sexual Health Clinic near downtown Ottawa the very next day for a round of tests…

“We’re all healthy, let’s party,” Nassirou said enthusiastically to his wife Rama and their new friend Jamal as they exited the Sexual Health Center. Jamal thought they’d head to the couple’s place in Nepean but instead, they crammed into an Uber which took them to the Holiday Inn Ottawa East. Well this is unexpected but whatever, Jamal thought, as they checked into the hotel…

“I can’t wait to play with this hunk,” Ramatoulaye said, laughing, as she grabbed Jamal’s ass. She’d been wanting to grab his ass for some time now. Jamal grinned nervously, and Nassirou winked at him. The three of them rode the elevator to their hotel room and once they got inside, fireworks soon followed. They had condoms and lube ready, and got the much-anticipated party started…

“Let’s play,” Jamal said, and he undressed, as did his hosts. Jamal admired Nassirou and Ramatoulaye as they got naked. Nassirou was tall, dark-skinned, slim but muscular, and very fit. The brother had a big dick swinging between his legs, and Jamal nodded approvingly, his own dick lengthening and hardening in response to his proximity to a handsome, masculine and well-hung male…

“Sounds good to me,” Nassirou said, smiling at Jamal while Ramatoulaye drew closer to the handsome younger man, caressing his chest with one hand while caressing his ass with the other. Jamal held his breath as Ramatoulaye pressed her thick derriere against his, causing bahis ┼čirketleri him to grow even harder. Jamal is an ass man through and true, and a female with a nice ass is a dish he can’t resist…

Ramatoulaye stood tall, curvaceous and downright sexy, with perky breasts, wide hips, thick legs and a big round booty. She reminded Jamal of women’s boxing champion Claressa Shields, only with a much bigger ass. Ramatoulaye was getting close to Tennis champion Serena Williams in the booty department, hot damn! I can’t wait to hit that ass, Jamal thought, smiling.

“Honey, let’s show Jamal what we can do,” Ramatoulaye said to her hubby Nassirou as they drew their new lover to the bed. Jamal, with a hunky guy on his left and a gorgeous, big-bottomed woman on his right, found himself overwhelmed with lust. He was in bisexual heaven, that’s for damn sure. Jamal was pleasantly surprised when Nassirou took his face in his hands and kissed him quite passionately.

“Anything for a handsome switch-hitter,” Nassirou told Jamal, once they came up for air. Jamal smiled hesitantly. He’d fucked a lot of women and a few guys in his time, but he’d never kissed a man or been kissed by one. Jamal wasn’t about that kissing shit, but he was too turned on to protest, and besides, Nassirou didn’t rub him the wrong way so let it slide…

“Hey handsome, are you happy to see me?” Ramatoulaye said as she grabbed Jamal’s dick and began stroking him. Jamal smiled at the freaky African gal as she winked at him, then took his dick into her mouth. As Ramatoulaye sucked Jamal’s dick, Nassirou kept kissing Jamal’s neck and playing with his chest hairs. This wasn’t really Jamal’s cup of tea, but it felt kind of good…

“Damn right,” Jamal whispered, smiling at Ramatoulaye who began sucking his dick with gusto. Nassirou smiled at Jamal, and then watched his wife as she sucked off their guest. Without another word, Nassirou finally put his lips to good use. Jamal sighed happily as Nassirou began sucking on his balls while Ramatoulaye hungrily sucked his dick. Things were definitely getting interesting…

My dream come true, Jamal thought, smiling, as he got his dick sucked by a woman and a man at the same time. Jamal couldn’t decide who sucked dick better as the husband and wife team sucked his dick and balls. Soon he was hard as a rock and ready to fuck someone, anyone. As far as Jamal is concerned, a hole’s a hole. He was ready to park his dick in someone’s pussy or someone’s ass…or both. Word up, for real…

“I need my pussy licked,” Ramatoulaye declared after she and Nassirou polished the hell out of Jamal’s dick. The Alabaman stud looked at Ramatoulaye, and smiled. Glancing at Nassirou, Jamal saw that the handsome older black gentleman was nodding and smiling. Shrugging, Jamal approached Ramatoulaye, ready to get down to business…

“Pretty lady, I’m going to eat that pussy like a hungry man,” Jamal said, and Ramatoulaye grinned and spread her thick dark thighs invitingly. Jamal inhaled the lady’s scent, then buried his face between her legs. Ramatoulaye exhaled sharply as Jamal began sucking on her clit while fingering her. Glancing at Nassirou, Ramatoulaye saw that her hubby was stroking his long, hard dick. Grinning, she beckoned for him to come closer…

“Hmm, nice,” Nassirou said, groaning as Ramatoulaye sucked his dick while getting her pussy eaten out by their new friend Jamal. Briefly looking up, Jamal saw that Ramatoulaye was sucking her husband Nassirou’s dick like there was no tomorrow. Jamal admired the lady’s technique but resumed eating her pussy. It’s always good to focus on what one is doing while avoiding distractions…

After giving Ramatoulaye’s pussy a tongue bath, Jamal was ready for more. Ramatoulaye took a moment to catch her breath after enduring some sweet torture, thanks to Jamal’s tongue. Nassirou looked at Jamal hungrily, and the two men playfully wrestled while Ramatoulaye watched. She tossed them condoms and lubricant, knowing where this roughhousing was headed…

“You’re gonna get this dick,” Jamal told Nassirou, as he put the handsome older man on all fours and caressed his ass. Nassirou groaned and stroked his dick as Jamal put on a condom before lubricating his ass. Without further ado, Jamal pushed his dick into Nassirou’s ass and began fucking him. Jamal has fucked a lot of females and a few dudes, but he’d never fucked an authentic African man before. This was going to be fun…

“Hmm, fuck Nassirou good, Jamal,” Ramatoulaye said encouragingly, and Jamal turned around and blew her a kiss. Ramatoulaye sat up on the bed, fingering her wet, hairy pussy while watching Jamal’s dick slide into her husband Nassirou’s backdoor. She absolutely loved watching her hubby get dicked down good and proper. Still, Ramatoulaye had never been the kind of lady who likes to watch, she wanted to play, and so she did…

“Thanks babe,” Nassirou groaned, a few moments later, as Ramatoulaye joined in on the fun. After fucking Nassirou’s ass doggy-style for a bit, Jamal put him on his back so he could look into his eyes while tagging that ass. Ramatoulaye joined the men, asserting herself without fear or shame. What the lady of the house says goes, no matter what…

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