Hijabi Summons a Djinn

There is another. Another soul that has had the great fortune of finding my lamp. The dreamless sleep is dreamless no longer for now there are visions of her. Fatimah. A young Palestinian girl of eighteen winters and a stature of no more than five foot three with a slender build though most wouldn't be able tell given her modest fashion sense. In these visions I have of her she chooses to wear baggy clothes to hide her figure from the world. But nothing can escape my sight. Not when one has taken my lamp into their possession. Now her thoughts become my own and my power grows.

She lives all alone in a city full of strangers. A city known as New York. Strangers because she is new to this place having moved from far up north. A place called Dearborn, Michigan. It's a move she looked forward to wanting to be an independent adult. Here she could attend the University, make some friends and hopefully after many years of hard work, become a lawyer to help those who she believes are oppressed. Such naivety. But this naivety makes her all the more delicious. This naivety that is typical of ignorant young humans is what will make her gift herself to me for she is in debt. Student loan debt. Barely able to pay rent for her apartment. Barely able even to have a decent meal at night reduced to having noodle soup.

We are bound together now so there any endless visions playing over in my mind like a slideshow. In them see her awaken early the same time every morning without failure. She washes her hands, feet and face then rolls out her carpet on the floor to pray. Always facing the same direction. This Mecca they believe to be a holy place but is in reality a place of paganism. A place I travelled to long ago when the world was a much more exciting place. When people actually believed. Now the world is a miserable place full of disbelievers. So bored with all I was that peace within the privacy of a lamp was preferred. Most will laugh at the notion of a Djinn being real and yet, here I am. Making an appearance every now and again to a woman that stumbles across my lamp.

There are visions of her undressing each morning and night, granting me a view of her perfectly rounded pink nipple breasts and those firm ass cheeks of hers. Ass cheeks that deserve to be smacked. Her skin is unblemished. Beige in hue. Her hair long and black raining just passed her shoulders. Her nose is small. Her eyes dark complimented by sharply curved eyebrows. Just to the left of her lips is a small beauty mark. Her cheeks are rounded. Usually pink with a light shade of makeup. Her pussy is clean shaven. I cannot help but wonder how she tastes and smells for each is unique. I should know having tasted several hundred thousand of many a millennium.

There have been many showers. Warm waters raining down on her from above as she ran a pink cloth over her skin lathering it with a thick foam of peach scented soap. Foam that washed away quickly with the water pouring down over her. It left her skin glistening with cleanliness. Her hair she washed with fruit scented shampoo. She is truly a rare jewel. A virgin for in these visions of her she has never been touched by man. But not for long. Tonight she will surrender herself to me and in that moment have the best experience of her life like so many others before her. She should be honored. Then, with her laying in bed having an orgasm long afterwards, my lamp, like it has many times before, shall vanish and in a decade or a hundred years be found again by yet another human woman in need.

Now I can feel her hands as if they were moving over my very skin in a way only a woman can. But it is not my flesh she touches but the lamb. She does so without knowing that such an action will release me from the darkness that is my home. And it does. The darkness fades away with my ascension. Freedom at last. The entirety of her room is bathed in hellish flames that consume not the walls or furniture. She sits at the edge of her bed in shock wearing nothing but her scarf, a white shirt, panties and thin cotton socks. The words "Djinn" rolls off her lips before dropping the rusted old lamp onto the floor.

My presence takes up the entirety of the room. My kind is much bigger than humans. We are beings made from fire and smoke. Not normal fire but fires not of this world. Fires that can incinerate even one's soul. Our power is great. We can grant pretty much any wish with relative ease but cannot do things that go against one's nature. Humans cannot wish to become immortal because Allah made them mortals. One cannot wish for the death of another for Allah decides who lives and dies. We also are not allowed to take one's soul because it is not their soul to give nor ours to take. Souls belong only to Allah.

Fatimah pushes up from the bed, taking off for her bedroom door. Grabbing the knob, she twists and pulls on it, but the door does not open being shut under my power. She cannot leave. She can never leave. She summoned me so must make a wish. And in return give her body to me. Each Djinn has their own condition. That is mine. With her pulling on the door in vain the flames, by my volition, recede as my form transforms from that of a being of smoke and fire to that of human. My favorite being that of a six-foot five man with dark brown skin and a solid, muscular build. A man with a cock long, thick and hot with precum dripping from the head.

She finally musters the courage to turn, pushing her back up against the door. Her eyes are closed. Her heart racing with fear. They open only when told it's okay. To not be afraid. Her jaw drops at the sight of me. Her eyes dip immediately to the erection before her. "Who are you? What are you? Are you a Djinn?" she asks this, her voice tinged with fear. But what did she expect? She found the lamp in an old antique shop. The man that gifted it to her freely warned her that a Djinn slept within it. A Djinn that could grant her any wish for a price. This idea fascinated her. With school and rent bills do she needed the money. So, without hesitation she took the lamp and, on this night, sat in bed wondering if the old man was telling the truth of not. So rubbed the lamp, hoping a Djinn really slept inside of it.

"My name is Methanjbeliav. You have awakened me from my slumber and summoned me forth onto this plane of mortals. Thus, I am required to grant you one wish. And I already know what it is that you desire. Money. Money to pay your bills and take care of your family." She says nothing, just stands there, her eyes darting around the room. Her breathing still heavy. "Just ask and it shall be yours. More money than you can ever spend. Money you can use to pay for school and start your own law firm. Money that you can use to help those in need. Those suffering in ancient Palestine." The words resonate within her. I can hear her thoughts. No more worrying about bills. No more being helpless. She can finally do something to help the oppressed.

Moving closer until just before her, a contract bursts into existence from hellish flames. It hovers just to the left of her. She glances over at it understanding suspicion then back over at me with those lovely dark brown eyes of hers. "What do you want in return?" she asks, tucking in her lower lip with a quick look at my hardness. "The contract is clear. I provide you with wealth and in return you surrender your body to me for one hour. One hour for a lifetime of wealth to help those in need." Saying this my cock rises to full attention. Pheromones not of this world are released. She takes it into her being prompting moaning low moans from her. I can smell the wetness in her panties. Her eyes drink the entirety of me but spend most of their time on my cock. A beast that has slayed many a vagina. Hundreds of thousands.

There is trepidation but eventually she steps closer to the floating contract. She traces her finger along the dotted line at which point the contract roars out of existence causing her to yelp and jump back against the door. With a snapping of the finger her phone beeps. With a gesturing of the head from me she quickly runs over to grab it. Her eyes widen. A notification from her bank that ten million dollars has been deposited into her account. Before she can say anything heat shoots throughout her body. She drops her phone on the ground, reaching down to between her legs to rub her pussy. Her body is mine now. And by my will she is horny beyond belief. She craves a nice big one. If she does not have it, she will be driven insane.

Her drenched pink panties drop around her ankles. She steps out of them then sprints over into my awaiting arm. With relative ease she is lifted up off her feet. Our lips lock in passionate tongue swirling kiss as she's lowered so the head of my cock, now held in hand, moves along her labias, teasing her before being pushed inside of her inch by inch until her hot inner fold clamps down on it. Her hands resting on my shoulders, she begins working herself on my manhood. She cries out in Arabic about how good it feels to have me inside of her but there is apart of her that is regretting the experience since she's supposed to be a good Muslim girl. She's supposed to be saving herself for marriage and yet, here she is riding the dick of some Djinn like a crazed whore.

A simple touch burns away her shirt exposing her lovely pink nipple breasts that jiggle as she works her wet pussy on my dick. It feels good. So amazingly good. Perhaps the best pussy I have had in centuries. Her breasts are stupendous. She moves in to bury her face into the nape of my neck, her breasts pressing against my toned pectorals. At this point my cock is sheathed fully within her hot treasure. Together we fall into bed with her pinned beneath me. She's fucked savagely into it, her much smaller frame joggling from the sheer force behind each insertion. Her legs release my hips, spreading wide apart as she is pounded, the thickness of my shaft massaging her inner falls providing her with perpetual mind-blowing bliss. She holds onto me tighter, pleading with me to fuck her harder and faster. Something done with much glee causing the bed to squeak and slam violently against the wall.

An hour spent with me is an eternity. An eternity of gratification pushing past the gates of ecstasy resulting in orgasm after orgasm until melding brown and beige skin glistens with sweat and the poignancy of sex fills the air along with her moans and screams. There is no greater joy than to violate one such Fatimah. One who prides herself on modesty. Just seeing her beneath me wearing that headscarf, a sheepish smile on her face as she holds onto me for dear life is an experience unlike any other.

Pushing back from her embrace with hands on her hips my cock is repeatedly driven into her. Her hands fall at her sides, searching for the ends of the bed, grasping instead the sheets when failing to reach them. Her entire body bucks before me. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her breasts rock back and forth. Her scarf loosens allowing her dark hair to spill out from the sides. Raising her ass from the sheets my entire dick is buried within her followed by a gyration of the hips allowing me to explore the innermost regions of her. This has her going crazy. She shakes her head against the pillows and pushing up against me. Her tongue is protruded. Her face distorted in delectation.

Pulling her up from the sheets, her hands again grip my shoulders. With her staring down into my eyes she rides me with demonic determination, bouncing, rocking and rotating her hips as low growls emanate from within her throat. She lets loose one final time, gushing her hot nectar all over the beast then falls into bed knackered, breathing heavily. Still on my knees, my cock is taken in hand, the shaft stroked. Seeing this she sits up then crawls along the bed until her face is just before my dick. From the head glowing liquor spews into her face. Like a good little whore, she licks every drop from around her mouth then hungrily takes hold of my member, her mouth closing around it. She sucks and swirls her tongue until every drop of cum is released from my sack.

Again, she falls back into bed. The sight of her laying there in only her scarf and white socks, her skin covered with a thin layer of cool sweat, mixed nectar flowing from her vagina is deeply enjoyed. With her drifting off to sleep, my lamp rises up from the floor and once again, there is darkness. Darkness that precedes a much-needed slumber until another woman in need finds it and summons me forth. A moment I can hardly wait for.