The Hijab Hunter: Jizz in My Pants

The name is Antonio Calderon. I was born in the Dominican Republic, to a Haitian mother, Anne Etienne, and a Hispanic father, Jose Calderon. I have an older sister named Nadine. In the summer of 2009 my parents moved from Haina, one of the Dominican Republic's biggest towns, to the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I missed the DR terribly but had to adjust to my new digs. Ottawa was to be our new home. I got myself a job working as a security guard, and I also enrolled at Carleton University. My sister Nadine went to the University of Ottawa to study medicine. Life is alright these days, if a little slow.

The only exciting places in the vastness of Canada are the metropolitan areas of Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver and Calgary, in that order. The rest of the country is pretty much all woodland and small towns and to me, that's strictly fly-over, trust me. Since I'm a person of color in the Great White North, I'm allergic to small towns. Don't go there if you're not white. Trust me, they're cold and hostile to us "invasive immigrants". They're going to stare at you as if you're a unicorn and make snide comments. The place where I live, a midsized city which happens to be the national Capital, is somewhat better. As a resident of Ottawa, I'm in the no fun zone. That's okay because I know how to make my own fun.

Don't ever judge a book by its cover. Truer words were never spoken, fam. How else could you explain the big-booty black Muslim chick, wearing Hijab no less, who sucked and fucked me in the engineering building washroom the other day? I met Hakima Mustapha in one of my classes and the tall, curvy Somali chick with the pretty face with a big ass caught my attention. Like a lot of mixed brothers, I've got a thing for dark-skinned chicks. I noticed Hakima but figured I wouldn't bother because Hijab-wearing Muslim chicks to me are in the category of sexless, dull and boring. I mean, I didn't think chicks like that can date, or have fun, or do anything other than go to school or pray. That's all I see them do.

Yeah, I figured Hakima Mustapha was out of my league. I'm half black and half Hispanic. I'm not Muslim or anything of the sort. Just an average Joe of the Christian persuasion. Catholic if you want to be specific. Living in sin in Canada's Capital region. I'd banged a few chicks since enrolling at Carleton University and considered myself alright in that area. Still, how many non-Muslim men can honestly say they bagged themselves a Hijab-wearing Muslim chick? I'm happy to say that I'm a member of that exquisite club. How did that happen? Let me tell you all about it ladies and gentlemen.

So there I was in the school library, doing some homework, checking my Facebook messages and all that jazz. I was also checking out my favorite porn sites, Hood Hunter and Real Black Anal, because quality black porn is getting increasingly hard to find, you know? I was watching my favorite actor Wesley Pipes as he smashed a big-booty dark-skinned sister named Jasmine Sky and got thoroughly engrossed in what I was seeing. I didn't notice the Hijab-wearing Somali chick sit at the computer next to mine. Hello brother, chimed Hakima Mustapha in a pleasant voice. It's never fun when females catch you watching porn, man. Um, something happened when Hakima interrupted my viewing of aforementioned pornographic material. I jazzed in my pants! Yeah, man. It happened right then and there.

Hakima Mustapha looked at me and smiled, then asked me what I was looking at. Frantically, I tried to do three things at once. Click out of the WMV movie trailer from the porno site, cross my legs so she doesn't notice my erection and try not cry out because I just frigging exploded in my pants. I failed miserably at all three, man. Instead of clicking out of the video, I accidentally blew it all, so it appeared as a full screen on my computer. Yup, and she saw the whole thing. Hakima's eyes went wide as she watched Wesley Pipes slam his dick up Jasmine Sky's asshole. That's what you look at while you're supposed to be doing homework, Hakima said, shaking her head. I'm sorry, I said weakly, and muttered under my breath. Damn. I haven't felt this embarrassed since I got caught jerking off in the cellar by one of my sister Nadine's friends. Shit!

All kinds of unpleasant scenarios rushed through my head. I looked at Hakima hesitantly. What was going on through her head? Was she shocked? Disgusted? This chick's a Hijab-wearing Muslim. They're all, um, holy and shit. I sure as hell hoped she wouldn't tell the library people on me. I was doing research, I told her. Hakima shook her head. The look in her eyes said "bullshit". You like porn, she said. It wasn't a question. I nodded hesitantly. I'm a single guy, I said, and shrugged. Hakima considered that. Then she looked at my crotch, where my erection was still bulging in my pants. I stay hard even after I cum. I don't know why. No girlfriend, I said wistfully. Without warning, Hakima laid her hand on my crotch. I jerked in surprise. You got one now, she said firmly, locking eyes with me. Her tone brooked no reply. I nodded and smiled nervously. Yes ma'am, I said sheepishly.

Hakima and I exchanged numbers and added each other on Facebook that night. I called her as soon as I got home, and I guess I was hoping ( or fearing ) that she changed her mind. Instead we ended up having phone sex for like an hour. Hakima was freakier than I thought she'd be, man. The following Tuesday, we grabbed a bite together at school and then went to the movies. I took her to see 2 Guns because I'm a big fan of Denzel Washington and Marky Mark isn't bad either.

We had fun, then grabbed a bite at the Saint Laurent Mall's Chinese restaurant. We had a good time, I guess. For she seemed to want to see more of me. I was honestly starting to feel that chick, man. Little Miss Somalia wasn't what I expected. She was smart, sexy and funny. And oh so freaky. I thought all Muslim females who wore the Hijab were the most boring creatures on God's green Earth. I guess I've been proven wrong. I've never met anyone like Hakima, for real.

I was surprised as hell when, while we were studying in the big ole civil engineering building ( their cafeteria is off the hook, better than the others at school ), she told me she wanted to see my dick. I smiled and told her I'd show her when we got home. She told me she couldn't wait. That's why we ended up in the washroom in the basement. I slipped the "closed for cleaning" sign on the door to make sure we had some privacy, then locked the door. Once inside, Hakima showed me what she was working with, as they say.

I sat Hakima on the washroom counter, and took a good look at her. Truth be told, something about a Hijab-wearing Muslim chick in a long skirt, dressed all religious and proper and yet showing her freaky side absolutely appealed to me. I told this to Hakima, who laughed and told me she knew lots of non-Muslim guys had a fetish for Muslim girls. Then she hiked up her skirt, revealing that she had no panties underneath. Hot damn. Her hairy pussy's puffy lips stared at me invitingly. I got hard instantly, and got on my knees. I had to lick some of that tasty Muslim pussy. I inhaled the hot, womanly scent of Hakima's pussy. Nice. I began licking her pussy, sliding my tongue and fingers in there. Hakima moaned softly and urged me to be gentle. I nodded and continued, tasting her pussy on my tongue and feeling her flesh quiver around my fingers. I worked my magic on her, causing her to moan loudly.

Hakima told me she was ready for more. We continued with our fun. I put on a condom then rubbed my hard dick against Hakima's lips, and then...shit. I went soft. I tried to get hard again, but couldn't. Hakima took my dick in her hand, and stroked it. And just like magic, I got hard again. Smiling, Hakima guided my dick inside of her. I pressed my dick against her pussy, and went inside with a swift, smooth thrust. Hakima wrapped her arms around me and urged me to fuck her. Who am I to go against the lady's wishes? I did just that, going deep inside of her. Gently I kissed her lips and we held each other tenderly as we made love. And in those passionate, impromptu moments, we weren't a Somali and a half-Haitian, a Muslim and an Infidel. We were simply a man and a woman, our bodies joined and our souls connecting.

When we finally stopped, our bodies covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I breathlessly told Hakima that I loved her. She smiled and told me that it's just the sex talking. I shook my head. Nah I mean what I say, I said, kissing her again. You're one crazy man but I love you back, she said, and kissed me back passionately. When we emerged from the washroom, it was close to midnight, and security had already locked the building. You should have seen the look on the cleaning lady's face when she saw us exiting the place, disheveled and happy, oozing sex in every pore. Hand in hand, Hakima and I walked off campus, but not before waving at the cleaning lady. Guess she'll have a story to share with her pals tonight. Take care, folks.