Muslim Bisexuality: Threesomes

I can't wait until we do this again, I said to Rafiq Fakri as I kissed him goodnight. Grinning, the handsome, dark-skinned young Moroccan kissed me back passionately, and then exchanged a wink with his lovely wife Basmah Fakri, ( nee Redouane), who nodded understandingly. I bade them both goodnight, and they walked me to the door. Before I left, Basmah did something which surprised both her husband Rafiq and myself. Standing on the tip of her toes, the diminutive, curvy young Arab woman planted a wet kiss on my lips. I smiled, and stroked my goatee, wondering why she did that.

Basmah winked at me, then exchanged a knowing look with Rafiq, who shrugged. Aku Salam, he told me as we shook hands before my departure. As Salam Alaikum my brother, I said with a grin. Damn, what a woman, I thought, glancing at Basmah and her hubby one last time as I got in my rented Volkswagen and drove off into the cool Ontario night. Wish I had one like that. The woman, not the car. Folks, the three of us just had a night I shall never forget. To answer your unasked question, yes, my friends and I are swingers. Well, they're swingers. Me? I'm just a sexual jack of all trades, so to speak. Anything is okay between consenting adults, that's my motto in this life. And it's taken me places I could scarcely imagine, once upon a time.

Backtrack, in case you're wondering what in hell is going on, my name is Akil Hussein. I was born and raised in the City of London, England, to a Somali immigrant family. Two years ago, I transferred from Brunel University in the town of Uxbridge, England, to Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I came to Canada because I wanted to explore life outside of Great Britain, and also because I wanted to meet new people. I'd grown tired of life in metropolitan London, to tell you the truth. I'm the kind of brother who likes to explore new places, meet new challenges and explore what life has in store for me. That's how I ended up in the Capital region of Canada in the first place.

Life in Canada is definitely not what I thought it would be. I figured that Canada would be a lot like good old England, only bigger. Not so much. I see so many different groups of people here. Aboriginals, Africans, Hispanics, Asians and Arabs. I mean, we have a lot of ethnic minorities in England too but primarily in the City of London itself. The rest of England is pretty much lily-white. I'm finding out that the Great White North isn't nearly as white as I thought it would be. So far, I've been to Montreal, Calgary, Halifax and Toronto. By far the place I like the most is the City of Toronto but I know an urban guy like myself wouldn't get much work done there. That's why I decided to stay in Ottawa. It's the most boring of all Canadian cities so I thought there would be fewer distractions and I'd be able to focus on school more. Carleton has one of the best civil engineering programs in North America so I thought I'd be fine there.

People in Canada are so strange compared to my fellow Brits. In Britain, people are brutally honest with you. If they don't like you, they will let you know to your face. That's why we have racial and religious riots so often in London. Ethnic and religious tension between different groups is palpable, and we don't put a fake smile on and pretend everything is alright. It's not the British way. Sometimes we just cut loose. In Canada, for the most part they smile to your face and act super-friendly but as soon as you're out of the room, they say all kinds of nasty and bigoted things about you. The two-faced nature of most Canadians is utterly laughable. Some days, I don't know whether to pity these fools or smack them. As a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound brother with dark brown skin, I attract a lot of attention as I walk the hallways of Carleton University.

A lot of people in the City of Ottawa routinely ask me where I come from, as if my British accent weren't an indicator. I was born in North London, dammit. My parents, Bilal and Sagalina Hussein moved to England from their hometown of Balcad, in southeastern Somalia. No, I've never been to Somalia. I intend to visit someday, though. It's always good to visit the land of your ancestors. In Canada, I find the Somali community far more united than they are back in England. Somali-Canadians hang onto their culture, heritage and tradition to a level that British Somalis can only dream of. We're a bit more assimilation-minded in good old England. Not all of us of course but a sizeable number.

When I show Somali-Canadians pictures of my family and I at the pool or at the beach, wearing swimwear and frolicking in the water like everybody else, they seem surprised. They're a bit too conservative for my liking, to tell you the truth. My older sisters Adarah and Akilah don't wear the hijab, and neither does my mother. Adarah is at Oxford University, studying bio-engineering and Akilah is at Imperial College, studying Law. As for my younger brother Kader, he's finishing high school soon. He wants to be a rapper but I tell him that if he doesn't go to college or university, I'm going to ask dad to charge him rent. No freeloaders in the Hussein household. You either work and pay the bills or you go to school. Everyone must chip in one way or another. My parents worked their butts off to provide a roof over our heads and instilled the value of hard work and self-determination in our heads. We're a very hard-working and resilient bunch, my siblings and I.

Here I am in Canada's Capital, studying hard and exploring life in the environs of Ottawa. I didn't make many friends among the Somali-Canadian students at Carleton University. Everywhere I looked I saw Black, Asian and Arab girls wearing hijabs and long skirts, clutching the Quran to their chest as they walked in the hallways, among throngs of Caucasian students. Me? I don't get down like that. I mean, don't get me wrong. My religion matters to me. I am a proud Muslim. That doesn't mean I can't live my life by my own rules.

I smoke cigarettes, and once or twice in the past, I tried weed and it was alright. Just youthful experimentation, you know? I like Rap music, though I also listen to classic rock sometimes. I read Marvel and DC comic books, interracial fiction and Afro-centric erotic novels. Zane is one of my favorite writers, followed by Sage Vivant, BK Reeves, Cheryl St. John, Deanna Lee, Jeanne Sumerix and a couple others whose names I can't remember. Black men in interracial romance novels are so rare that I collect those I can find. Oh, and I really, really like porn. I love porn, especially the interracial stuff where you see Black guys banging White chicks with big butts. I also like the female domination stuff, where you see women dominating guys with their whips and strap-on dildos. BDSM is a lot of fun and I love watching similarly themed videos. What can I say? I like my fun.

A lot of Muslim guys like to have their fun too but they get mad if they see a Muslim sister getting her drink on or sporting a short skirt or going to the clubs. What the fuck? I am a lot of things my friends but I am not a hypocrite. If Muslim guys can party, drink, and have sex with random girls, then Muslim girls can get their freak on too. Back in London, I dated a freaky Egyptian chick named Amatullah Sadat, ( no relation to the assassinated Afro-Egyptian president ) and we had a lot of fun together. This chick was all that and then some. Five-foot-nine, chubby and wide-hipped with a big round ass. Light bronze skin, long black hair and light brown eyes. Just the way I like my women. Amatullah and I met at a house party in Berkshire and we just hit it off. This chick was something else, man. I mean she would suck my dick so hard it's like she was sucking the life out of me. Amatullah knew how to make my toes curl, man. I like Arab women and I'm not afraid to say it. A lot of Arab guys are into Black women but most Black Muslim men are afraid to go after Arab women. Not me. If she'll give up the pussy, I'll take it. I don't care what anyone else thinks. It's between me and her, you feel me?

Amatullah taught me a thing or two about passion, man. This Egyptian diva taught me how to eat pussy properly. I had to get her off using my tongue and fingers before she'd let stick my long and thick Somali cock into her precious Arab pussy. I love putting it to her, man. I would put her on all fours, spank her big round ass and thrust my dick into that wet, hairy cunt of hers. Amatullah really liked the rough stuff, and I like that in a woman. She introduced me to some forbidden pleasures, that woman. She's the first woman who let me fuck her in the ass. Man, the feel of Amatullah's tight asshole around my dick, pulsing and warm, that's something I shall never forget. The first time, I took her in her parents basement ( they were out of town on business ), face down and ass up. I fucked her real good, thrusting my dick deep into her shit hole, totally owning that ass. We fucked and sucked the night away, man.

Yeah, I had a lot of fun with Amatullah. It's too bad she moved to Wolverhampton, leaving London for good after finishing her business studies at Brunel University. Apparently she found a real estate job down in Wolverhampton. Oh, well. I still miss that fantastic ass of hers in my more nostalgic moments. I love the ladies, as you can see, but a roll in the hay with a manly guy once in a while is a lot of fun. Back in London, I used to hook up with my buddy Faisal Ali pretty regularly. He's a tall, good-looking brother of mixed descent. His dad is Saudi and his mother is Somali. He's married to my long-time neighbor, a sweet Somali plumper named Mona and they have a daughter together, little Aidah. If his wife knew how much fun Faisal and I have together on our 'poker nights', she'd have a fit.

Faisal is the kind of dude I like. Tall and fit, smart and very masculine. He studied accounting at Middlesex University and works for the HSBC. When we get down, he definitely brings it. The dude sucks a mean dick and he's got a nice ass that I just love to bend over and fuck. Faisal is a power bottom who can take a hard pounding without too much fuss. I like that in a man. I can't decide whose ass I enjoy fucking more, his or Amatullah's. I'm going to go ahead and call it a draw. Anyhow, enough reminiscing. I miss London, as you can tell, but I decided to make the best of my life in Ottawa. I dealt mostly with White women when it comes to sex and dating in Ottawa because the local Arab girls and Somali women are way too traditional and conservative for my taste. They hide the pussy too well, and yet they get mad when they see Arab guys and Somali men with White women.

Since I didn't have that many friends, I found myself quite bored most of the time. I would go on the occasional date and sometimes I'd actually get laid, but overall my social life was a shadow of what it had been back home. All that ended the day I met Rafiq Fakri, a six-foot-tall, handsome young Moroccan guy whom I bumped into at the school library. We sat side by side in a corner with the widows at our backs. I was on WebCT, submitting something to a discussion board for my "Ethics of Engineering" class when I noticed the dude sitting next to me was watching porn. And not just any porn. A Black guy was fucking a Hispanic-looking dude who sucked a strap-on dildo attached to a curvy, dark-skinned woman. What the fuck? This dude was watching bisexual porn!

The guy noticed me taking a peek, and smiled. I looked at the screen, then at him and I smiled too. Interesting site, I said. The guy grinned, and told me the site name. Black And Bisexual. I went to Google and looked it up, and I must say I liked what I saw. The guy looked at me and 'accidentally' bumped his knee into mine. I looked at him pointedly and he apologized, then introduced himself. Our eyes met, and I smiled as I shook his hand. Thus I met Rafiq Fakri, born in the City of Temara, Morocco, and raised in the City of Toronto, Ontario. I added him on Facebook, and learned a bit more about him. He's mixed, which I surmised just by looking at him. He told me his father is Moroccan and his mother came from Ivory Coast. He's in the Sprott MBA program at Carleton University. Oh, and he's married to young Moroccan woman whom he lives with right here in Ottawa.

Rafiq showed me pictures of his wife Basmah, a short and pleasantly curvy young Arab woman who wore the hijab and a long skirt, yet she had a spark in her eyes which made me smile. I know a firecracker when I see one. Congratulations, I said to Rafiq. To judge by her Facebook pictures, his wife Basmah is truly beautiful. You don't see a lot of Arab women with Black men because the Arabs are racist bastards. Not all of them but a sizeable number. As a banger of Arab women, I know what I'm talking about. Rafiq's family must have a lot of money if he's got himself an Arab wife. As if reading my mind, he smiled and told me that he and Basmah had known one another since they were younglings at Masjid. They ran into each other in Toronto, fell in love and got married. Lucky man, I said, and Rafiq and I exchanged dap.

I looked at Rafiq, wondering what he wanted from me. He's bisexual, that much I could have told you without seeing pictures of his wife or the kind of porn he likes. I prefer to deal with other bisexual guys when it comes to sex. Gay men are clingy as hell, they gossip worse than women and they're always trying to convert straight and bisexual men into fags. I am a bisexual man and I'm staying that way. I like to fuck guys on occasion but I love pussy. Banging women is absolutely fucking awesome. Gay guys can't understand that shit so I don't deal with their clingy, gossiping asses. Rafiq and I talked for a bit, then went for coffee at the Tim Horton's inside the University Center building.

While sipping coffee and wolfing down some buttered bread, I got to know this Moroccan stud better. He's definitely good-looking and masculine, I kind of like that in a man. No fags for me, thank you very much. Only real men. I was interested in him and let him know. Rafiq smiled and told me he found me sexy, but he didn't play with men unless his wife was in on the deal. When he said that, I almost spat my coffee. What the fuck? I stared into Rafiq's eyes. The dude was serious. My wife and I are swingers, he told me with an amused look in his eyes. Once I recovered from the shock, I leaned closer and told him I wanted to hear more. Rafiq grinned, and nodded understandingly. Then, in a calm and clear but amused voice, he told me all I wanted to know, and more.

The next time I saw Rafiq, his wife Basmah was with him, and I must say her Facebook pictures don't do her justice. The woman is simply beautiful, man. Clad in a black leather jacket over a stylish white blouse, dark gray silk pants and a silver hijab, she looked stylish and hot. Only five-foot-three, she nevertheless had a commanding presence. I wasn't sure whether to nod politely or shake Basmah's hand since she wore the hijab and all but she extended her hand toward me and I shook it. Her grip was frank, warm and firm. Just like the rest of her, I hoped. She looked me up and down, smiled and told me I looked good. I nodded politely, then sat down across from her hubby and her. The three of us sat inside East Side Mario's restaurant in the east end of Ottawa, not far from my apartment. Man, I must say I was in awe of them. A Muslim couple where the husband is bisexual and the wife is not only okay with it but she also seems to encourage it. Wow. Now I've seen everything.

Basmah and Rafiq sat across from me, hand in hand, looking very much like a young couple in love. Rafiq looked very handsome, clad in a red silk shirt, black silk pants and boots. I suddenly felt underdressed in my long-sleeved blue T-shirt, black jeans and sneakers. We made small talk, and I got to know Basmah a bit better. She's studying Law at the University of Ottawa. How about that? Hmm. The lady is pretty and smart. Nice catch, Rafiq. Still, I had some burning questions of a personal nature for her. What it is that excites you about male bisexuality? I asked Basmah, looking into her lovely brown eyes. I had never met a Muslim woman with such an open mind toward male sexuality, not even my freaky Egyptian ex-girlfriend Amatullah. Basmah grinned and licked her lips, then broke it down for me. The same way lots of men like watching women get it on, she said with a bemused look on her pretty face, lots of women like watching men freak each other. Rafiq smiled happily at her and they exchanged a kiss. Not a deep one, just a quick and tender one.

Wow, I thought for the umpteenth time. I wish I could find a woman like that. Most women would freak out if their husband or boyfriend told them he was bisexual. Rafiq and Basmah explained to me how they'd been fantasizing about male-male-female threesome for a while, they just could never find the right guy. It's a stroke of luck that I met you, Rafiq said, shaking his head and grinning. Basmah looked at me, licking those exquisite lips of hers. Black, bisexual and Muslim, she said, looking me up and down with a disbelieving look in her pretty eyes. How about that? I shrugged, and grinned. What can I say? Sometimes it pays to be different. We discussed everything in detail. They had many questions from me. What was my HIV status? Negative, and I've got the paperwork to prove it. I got tested six weeks ago. Did I feel comfortable with group sex? Hell yes. Any more brain busters?

We agreed to meet the following weekend at Rafiq and Basmah's residence in Barrhaven to do the do, as they say. That Saturday night I showed up at their place around seven, looking good and smelling even better. Rafiq came to the door, and greeted me with a hug and a kiss. I don't typically kiss guys but I liked Rafiq. I liked his wife Basmah too. She came to the door wearing her hijab, as I expected, but instead of the long skirts and business clothes she usually favored, she wore a bra and panties, and I held my breath. Hot damn. This chick was smoking hot! Something about a woman wearing a hijab and nothing but a bra and panties has always turned me on. Looking good Miss B, I told Basmah, looking her up and down. She grinned, then kissed me on the lips. Welcome to our humble home, she said with a bright smile.

We went to the living room, and I made myself comfortable. Off came my silk white shirt, black silk pants and boxers. Soon I stood there, naked save for my cashmere socks. Basmah and Rafiq sat on the sofa, feasting their eyes on me. Who wants to taste my goodies first? I wondered aloud. Basmah nudged Rafiq with her elbow, and the young Moroccan stud got up and came to me, taking off his underwear as he did. We stood nose to nose, two naked men burning with desire. I kissed Rafiq, putting my arms around him. I heard Basmah cheer us on as we began caressing each other. I grabbed Rafiq's dick and he grabbed mine, and we stroked each other's cocks, mutually masturbating to full hardness.

Man, I wanted him right then and there. Condoms, we need condoms, I thought. Rafiq turned, and Basmah grinned, stepping forward with the latex goodies, and some lubricant. Rafiq and I got our freak on. We playfully wrestled, to the delight of Basmah, who cheered us on. I put Rafiq on all fours, and he spread his ass for me. That's when Basmah decided to join the action. The sexy Arab chick held her husband's ass cheeks open as I lubricated him, then I rolled a condom on before pressing my dick against Rafiq's ass. Are you ready for me? I asked him. Rafiq nodded, and I saw Basmah's eyes gleam with excitement as I worked my dick into her husband's ass.

Gently, I eased my cock into Rafiq's ass. Dude was awfully tight in spite of the lube, so I took my sweet time as I fucked him. I noticed that his wife Basmah got really excited as we did our thing, taking off her bra and panties and fingering her hairy pussy as she watched us fuck. I grabbed Rafiq's hips as I drilled my cock into him. I couldn't go too deep since he was tight as hell but I had fun. I didn't last as long as I thought I would, I think I came after fucking him for like twenty five minutes. Normally it takes me about an hour but this dude's ass was too tight. His asshole is even tighter than Amatullah's ass had been, and I thought she had the tightest butt hole ever, since she's a big woman and all. As I eased my dick out of his ass, Rafiq breathed a sigh of relief.