Right now, I'm positively glowing, ladies and gentlemen. Why is that, you may ask? Simply because I just got the spanking of a lifetime. My name is Khadija Mahdi, and I'm a young woman of African and Persian descent living in the City of Ottawa, at the heart of provincial Ontario. I attend Carleton University, the setting of so many of my adventures. When most people look at me, they see a quiet and friendly, self-effacing and docile little Muslim gal. Well, don't let the hijab fool you, chicks from my neck of the woods have been known to get down and dirty. We have to be discreet because there are so many damn rules for us ladies in Islam, but we do have our fun. Otherwise, what would be the point of living? My point exactly.
I have always been fascinated by guys from other religions, much to the chagrin of my parents, Mohammed and Atifah Mahdi. Lucky for me, they live in the City of Montreal, Quebec, pretty far from Ottawa. I live in the dorms at my school and have made the most of my newfound independence. You've got no idea what it's like to grow up in a deeply religious and repressive household. My older brother Salim surprised the hell out of the family by running off with this gay white guy named Peter, whom he met at the University of Toronto. My parents were shocked, but I wasn't. I knew that Salim wasn't straight. Of course, Muslim parents pay close attention to their daughters while turning a blind eye to their sons activities. If my parents actually paid attention to Salim, they would have figured out a long time ago that he liked the cock. Me? I've been in the know for a while. I just didn't say anything because I didn't want to blow my brother's cover, you know?
I have made the most of my newfound freedom in the City of Ottawa. Without my relatives looking over my every move, I felt free at last. I went out on dates, went to clubs and attended festivals. A lot of girls my age take their right to do what they want for granted, and that's mostly because they come from non-Islamic backgrounds. Christian, Jewish, Agnostic and Atheist parents are a lot more relaxed about letting their daughters go out and have fun than Muslim parents will ever be. It's not so much religion as it is culture. My father is Iranian and my mother is Somali, so yeah, either way my culture is conservative. In the City of Ottawa, I was determined to live my life, though. I met this tall, gorgeous red-haired and green-eyed white dude named Paul Harrison, and we totally hit it off. Paul was born and raised in the City of Galway, somewhere in Ireland, and he had the cutest accent. I wanted him from the first time I saw him. A lot mixed-race chicks of partial African descent have a sexual attraction to white guys. I don't know why that is but I liked Paul and he liked me. The fact that he was a good Catholic lad from Ireland didn't stop me one bit. A lot of Muslim girls don't bother with dating guys from other religions because they don't see a future there. Me? I wanted to live my life, so why worry about the future? I could die tomorrow for all I know.
Paul and I started going out, and he showed me the City of Ottawa, in a way I had never before seen it. I guess it's true what they say, it's not just where you are it's also who's there with you, you know? With Paul by my side, the City of Ottawa, long considered the most boring town in the continent of North America, began to feel like a new beginning instead of a dead end to me. I found myself actually falling in love with this tall, ruggedly handsome Irishman. He was actually the first person I had sex with. I gave myself to him one night because I thought he was the one. He was charming and sexy, and he treated me like a queen. Nobody else had ever treated me this way.
A lot of Somali chicks are gorgeous and a lot of Persian women are hot but I didn't exactly get the best of both worlds from my parents. I stand five feet eleven inches tall while barefoot, and I weigh two hundred and forty pounds. I'm a chunky, light-skinned chick with big tits, wide hips, chunky legs and a big round ass. I'm a towering, heavyset woman of color in a world that worships skinny white-skinned women. Paul made me feel beautiful, and he made me feel special. I thought he was the one. I never imagined that my charming Irishman would consider me just another notch on his belt. I saw his Facebook posts, where he bragged to his friends about getting some Muslim pussy. I deleted him as a friend and cried myself to sleep that night. I swore to myself that I'd never let another man break my heart again.
That's how my first semester at Carleton University went, ladies and gentlemen. I focused on my studies instead of guys, and I avoided the other Muslim chicks at school because they considered me to be a slut after seeing me date Paul, who wouldn't stop bragging about fucking me. You see, there are a lot of guys out there who think Muslim chicks who wear the hijab and dress conservatively are the forbidden fruit, and they want to fuck the hell out of us. There's even porn dedicated to that online. Well, I was determined not to be a victim again, so it's later for the entire male species until I get married, thank you very much. That's how I felt until I met Samuel Bernard. I was walking through the university center one morning and ran into Paul, who was walking around with his next victim, a tall Jamaican chick. He shot me a look, and whistled in my direction. When I told him to fuck off, he told me he already had me. I blushed in embarrassment, and lowered my head in defeat.
