Hijab Girl Discovers Anal Sex

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Sliding my eight-inch, uncircumcised Black dick into Fatouma Muhammad’s tight asshole, I felt an odd mix of pleasure and guilt. The young Black woman gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as I began fucking her in the ass. Man, sometimes I am really ashamed of myself. However, lust is a powerful force in a man’s life. One which cannot be ignored. The eighteen-year-old Somali refugee claimant came to me for help, after running into some trouble and I offered her a place to stay. I came onto her two nights later and she acquiesced to my urges. I asked and she said yes. However, I wonder if the guilt I feel is because of the circumstances. If you say yes under duress, or because you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, it doesn’t count, right?

I’ve fucked all kinds of women in my lifetime. From Caribbean sisters hailing from places like the island of Haiti, Jamaica and Trinidad to white women from places like Great Britain and Ireland. We have all kinds of ladies here in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. A first-rate player like myself can get with the best of them. I banged a hot Native chick once. She was from the Ojibway nation of the Province of Ontario. Aboriginal pussy is awesome, folks. Get it while it’s still hot. See? Told you I don’t discriminate. Hell, I even fucked a plump Japanese woman who lived down the street from me once. I fucked her in the same bed which she shared with her husband, a white guy she met while in university. How awesome was that? I don’t discriminate when it comes to booty. I am a booty catcher. I am an ass hunter. I’m all about the thrill of the chase. Get women to drop their guard before dropping their panties, then I move in for the kill because that’s what I’m all about. I am a sexual predator.

In case you’re wondering who this is, I guess introductions are in order. My name is Raphael Alexandre Petion. Born in the region of Miragoane, somewhere in the island of Haiti and raised in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. I was named after Alexandre Petion, the legendary Hero of the Haitian War of Independence. I’m no Hero, Cebeci Escort though. I am that Black guy you were warned about. I’ll do anything to get a piece of ass. And I have a taste for the forbidden fruit. I’ve fucked Lebanese women and Syrian women before, and I did it right under the nose of their husbands. Arab men like to act like they’re tough shit. They fuck a lot of Black women. Well, it’s time for us Black men to start fucking some Arab women. Once these Arab sluts get a taste of Black dick in their uptight religious pussies, they’ll really have something to praise Allah about, you feel me?

Fatouma Muhammad’s tight asshole gripped my cock like a vise as I gently pounded my dick inside of her. I’ve never fucked a chick her age before. Eighteen years old. Hot damn. She looked so lovely, lying on her back, completely naked with her legs spread. Well, I should say that she’s almost completely naked. She still has her hijab on. Why did she still have her hijab on? Simply because I told her to keep it on. I always wanted to fuck a very pious Muslim chick, man. I get turned on by the sight of a big-booty chick wearing a hijab and those long flowing robes that conservative Muslim women often wear. I’m told that Muslim women wear hijabs to shield themselves from unworthy attention. Supposedly, it marks them as pious, proper and chaste. It’s having the opposite effect on me, man. It turns me on like you would not believe. Every time I see a hot chick wearing a hijab, I want to fuck her. There, I said it!

I leaned over and sucked on Fatouma Muhammad’s tits, sucking on the areolas. Her beautiful face was scrunched up tight. I asked her if she was okay and she briefly opened her eyes, and told me she was alright. I nodded, but slowed down my tempo anyway. I gently turned Fatouma Muhammad on her stomach and took her from behind. Hot damn, the Somali chick had one hell of a booty. I smacked her big round ass gently as I pushed my cock deeper into her asshole. Fatouma groaned and I told myself to be gentler.

I asked Kolej Escort Fatouma Muhammad how she felt and she told me she felt okay. She asked me how I felt and I said I felt great. In a quiet, mousy voice, she told me that how I felt was all that mattered. It’s around that moment that I came, flooding Fatouma’s asshole with my hot manly seed. She cried out sharply as my hot semen flooded her bowels. I had achieved release and with it, maximum pleasure. I should feel happy. Instead, I felt ashamed of myself. Underneath me, Fatouma lay very still. I noticed that she had tears in her eyes. Gently, I pulled her into my arms and asked her what was wrong. She forced a brave smile and told me everything was fine. Then she asked me if she could go back to her room. I nodded, and she left without another word.

I lay there on my bed, in the dark. Something bothered me, preventing me from sleeping. I thought about all the women I had wronged in my life. I am banned from the Haitian church I once attended because I slept with the preacher’s wife and the preacher is in jail because he tried to have me killed by some hired thug, but the police were onto the guy he put up to the hit, so I lucked out. I’m twenty seven years old, and although I have a Master’s degree in business administration from Carleton University and a hundred-grand-a-year job with the Canadian Revenue Agency, I am not exactly proud of myself. I dishonored my family with my drinking, womanizing and selfishness. And to really make things worse, I just talked an eighteen-year-old Somali chick who fears being deported from Canada to Somalia ( unless she found a sponsor and got a job ) into letting me have anal sex with her. I really am a piece of shit.

I remember meeting Fatouma Muhammad at the Saint Laurent Mall, not far from my duplex on Ogilvie in the east end of Ottawa. There she sat, looking lonely and forlorn. I approached her to see if she was alright. I felt like I had to do that. You should have seen her, man. A five-foot-eight, slim and absolutely gorgeous young Yenimahalle Escort Black woman with light brown skin and almond-shaped light brown eyes. The kind of gal who could have been a supermodel if the conservative form of Islam that most Somalis follow actually allowed Somali women to do what they wanted with their lives. Men from the West often say that Muslim men oppress women but tonight, I feel like I took advantage of Fatouma, and I am a Christian, or at least I was raised Christian. What I did wouldn’t be okay in the eyes of the Lord Jesus Christ. It wouldn’t fly with the tenets of Christianity, Islam or Judaism. Amazing how the most basic rules of conduct and decency of these faiths seem to match, for the most part.

The next morning, I met Fatouma at breakfast. She just sat there, eating her cereal. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I told her that I was sorry for what we did last night. Hesitantly, she asked me if she wasn’t good enough to please me in bed. I shook my head and took her hands in mine. I told her that I shouldn’t have done what I did, that there was nothing wrong with her. There was something wrong with me. She looked at me, puzzled. Clearly she didn’t seem to understand. I sighed, and told her that where I’m from, God-fearing Christian men are supposed to respect women and treat them chivalrously and respectfully. The woman’s race or religion shouldn’t matter. A gentleman should respect her no matter what. Fatouma looked at me with a strange expression on her beautiful face. I told her that I was going to help her. Silently I prayed that I might find redemption that way.

That afternoon, I helped Fatouma fill out a job application with Lob Laws. They would pay her twelve dollars an hour to stock the shelves of the grocery store at night. She was thrilled when they called her the next day, saying that she got the job. I told her that she could stay at my place, rent-free, until she found a place to stay on her own. Oh, and I swore to God, Allah, Yahweh and Jehovah that I wouldn’t touch her while she was under my roof. Smiling, Fatouma told me that the four names I just mentioned referred to the same entity. God. Worshipped by two point two billion Christians, one billion point something Muslims and however many Jews are scattered all over the globe. She thanked me and told me I had a good heart. I smiled, and told her it was a work in progress. A day at a time. Wish us luck, eh?

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