The Hijab Hunter: Moroccan Beauty

Dating Choukri changed my life. For the first time ever, I was in the company of someone who was one hundred percent sure of who she was. And her mere existence defied so many stereotypes I held about many Arab/Muslim people. For example, I expressed shock when I saw a picture of Choukri holding a fuzzy little white dog on the wallpaper of her laptop. We were hanging out at her dorm one night, just chilling. That's my father's dog dear Old Momo, she said with a smile. Conventional wisdom tells me that Muslims don't like dogs. Yet here was this Hijab-wearing Djibouti gal hugging one. You shouldn't paint an entire people with the same brush, Choukri said sternly.

You know I'm sorry mama, I said with a smile. Choukri grinned, and hugged me. You're forgiven, she said, smacking me on the bum. I wasn't expecting that so I kind of jerked up a bit. Surprise, Island man! Choukri laughed. Oh, it's like that, huh? I held her in my arms and looked into her eyes. Without a word being spoken, I leaned closer and so did she. Our lips met, and thus we shared our first kiss. It was magical, I know it sounds corny but it really was. Her lips were soft, and she kissed me hungrily and passionately. I've kissed both guys and girls and in my earlier days I used to think the guys would be rough while the women were the gentler kissers. I'm finding the reverse to be true. Choukri kissed me passionately, and when we came up fir air, I saw in her eyes a powerful desire.

I want you but I can't, Choukri said breathlessly. I kissed her lips, then her hands. Don't worry babe I got you, I said. I picked her up and brought her to the couch, then knelt before her. I can make you happy even if we don't go all the way, I said confidently. Choukri hesitated. Man, I looked at her and felt so horny. My dick was straining against the fabric of my pants, I was that hard. The sight of Choukri lying on the couch, wearing her long-sleeved skirt, long skirt and hijab actually turned me on! Be careful, she said, and I nodded. Slowly, I hiked up her skirt, and pulled down her purple panties.

I beheld what Choukri assured me no other man had ever beheld. Her hot, bushy pussy. For my gorgeous Djibouti girlfriend was still a virgin like any properly raised unmarried Muslim woman, though she'd fooled around with a few people. I inhaled the sharp scent of Choukri's womanhood. No two women smell or taste alike down there. I'm no stranger to eating pussy though, truth be told, I've gone down on a lot more guys than girls. I'm more familiar with dick since I've got one and I've played with a few dozen but I do like eating pussy. Counting Hannah and the wives of two bisexual male ex-clients of mine from my male escort days, I've gone down on exactly three women. I slid my tongue into Choukri's slit, and gently began licking her pussy.

While going down on my sweetie, I looked into her face. Choukri was tense at first as I began gently eating her pussy. As I tried to finger her, she told me no. I must be a virgin on my wedding night I'm sorry, she said apologetically. I nodded, stifling a groan of frustration and resumed eating her out. Soon I had her moaning and squirming on that couch, sweat pearling on her beautiful face. I continued working my magic on her, delighting on the taste and smell of her pussy on my tongue. I buried my face between her legs, loving every moment of it. For I was doing what many men from around the world dreamed of doing. Sexually pleasuring an observant Muslim woman, the most elusive ( and untouchable ) of women. When Choukri warned me that she was about to cum, I stepped things up and watched her as she came, oozing droplets of girly cum all over my face. The sight of my orgasmic sweetheart is something that I'll never forget.

I let Choukri recover, holding her in my arms and kissing her. That was amazing, she said. I smiled and nodded. I was there, I reminded her, grinning. Shaking her head, she told me I was full of myself. Then, without warning, she grabbed my crotch. I watched her, mesmerized. Was she about to do what I thought? Moments later, Choukri unzipped my pants, freeing my average-sized dick. She noted that I was uncircumcised and I shrugged. Not a problem for me, Choukri said quickly, taking me into her mouth. The sight of my gorgeous Djibouti girlfriend on her knees going down on me hardened my cock almost like a steel bar but made my knees buckle. Luckily I was on the couch. Choukri worked her magic on me, flicking her tongue on my dick head and caressing my balls. She slipped a finger in my ass and I gasped in surprise. I really liked it! Wish I had a dildo to fuck you with, Choukri said, before resuming sucking me. Another time, I told her. I felt a surge deep within and warned her that I was about to cum. Instead of stopping, Choukri sucked me even harder. That's when I, um, came in her mouth. She held onto me as my orgasm wracked me with spasms, and I screamed loudly. I looked at Choukri, my vision suddenly a bit blurry. How was it? she asked me. I pulled her to her feet and into my arms, then kissed her. You were wonderful my love, I said.

That night, Choukri and I slept together. We didn't go beyond oral sex for obvious reasons, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed falling asleep with my sweetie in my arms. After tasting her, smelling her and enjoying her, nothing thrilled me more than having her fall asleep while listening to my heartbeat, her head on my chest. I kissed her forehead, and thanked my lucky stars. Even though my parents are preachers, I've never really been religious. I went to church because my folks made me. I felt like God cursed me by making me what I am. I used to ask the Almighty to take away my forbidden feelings when I prayed. Being black and male in Canada was tough enough, why add the burden of being bisexual on top of it? And yet I had somehow found a woman who accepted me for who I am, and I wanted to be with her. Given how different we were from each other, the fact that we ended up together at all must be a sign from on high.

The next day, I told Choukri I loved her and she told me she loved me too. That Friday I accompanied her at her favorite Masjid, and took my Shahada. I took the Muslim name Saif. I didn't go as far as changing my name on any official records, rather it would be the name I used while in Muslim circles. On Christmas break, I introduced Choukri to my cousin Ricky and his mother, my aunt Giselle. Although a devout Muslim, Choukri had no problem spending Christmas Day with my family and I. Most Muslims can't stand the idea of the Christmas Holiday but they forget that Jesus Christ ( known as Isa Al Masih in Islam ) is a Messenger of Allah and must be respected by all of us, Choukri told me as we sat down with Ricky and aunt Giselle to eat some turkey. Celebrating the birthday of one of Allah's most beloved prophets shouldn't be seen as a bad thing, Choukri finished, before winking at me and squeezing my hand. Bless your heart my sister, aunt Giselle, a staunch catholic, said with a smile. The two women exchanged a smile, then we began eating. A good time was had by all.

A few days later, Choukri introduced me to her father, Abdullah Fatimid. The older North African businessman was surprisingly friendly. Whenever I thought of Arab and North African guys I envisioned them as ruthless and domineering. The man was very kind and easygoing, and during our man to man talk, he asked me about my faith, my university studies and my plans for the future. Like any father I want my daughter to be safe and happy, he said evenly. Choukri is the light of my life and I was nothing before I met her so believe me when I say I would die for her, I told him, looking him in the eye. Good answer Saif, Abdullah said, laughing. Then he clasped my hand not unlike the way my own father clasped it that night, a long time ago, when I came home after losing my virginity to Hannah. Welcome to the family brother, he said. I nodded with relief, and said "Alhamdulillah". It means "praise be to God" in the Arabic language.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The story of how I met my gorgeous wife Choukri Fatimid-Morrison. We live together in a two-bedroom apartment not far from the University of Toronto campus. It's nice enough, has a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. All for eleven hundred a month. I got a job as a security guard at a local embassy and they pay me about a thousand dollars ( after taxes ) every two weeks. With some help from Choukri, who works at the campus bookstore, we can actually afford the place. As a wedding present her father offered to buy us a house but I declined. I will build my wife a castle when I'm good and ready, I told the old man. Abdullah Fatimid was surprised but nodded understandingly. You want to stand on your own two feet and I respect that, he said. Choukri and I are a year away from graduating with our bachelor's in business, then we're going for our MBAs. Once we're ready, we'll start a family. For now, we're okay. Life is good. I thank God for His blessings. Peace. I've got to rush home because my sexy wife Choukri is waiting for me. It's strap-on domination night at the Morrison household and I don't want to miss it!