A Jordanian Lesbian Finds Love

My girlfriend Daliyah Abdikarim is such a whiner, I thought as I slipped two of my gloved fingers into her tight asshole. The gorgeous Somali chick's big round booty jiggled as I worked my fingers inside of her, deep down where the sun doesn't shine. She was moaning and groaning as I worked on her, her sexy body covered with sweat. Face down and ass up, she looked simply magnificent. Are you alright? I asked her, slowing down just a tad bit. Through gritted teeth, Daliyah nodded.

I could see that mischievous gleam in her dark brown eyes, and knew she was far from defeated. Is that all you got, Johari? She taunted me, laughing. I laughed and smacked her ass one more time. If she wants to play rough, that's more than okay by me. While fingering Daliyah's asshole, I leaned closer and licked her pussy. Oh my gosh, I love the taste of her pussy. Daliyah tastes oh so wonderful, hot and musky, and I can't get enough of her. She's the only woman who's made me feel this way.

I can't explain it, she's got what us lesbians call "killer pussy". Ever since we first met, I've wanted her. And now, I finally had her right where I wanted her. Face down and ass up, like I mentioned before, and with her hands and feet tightly bound by silken scarves. She's moaning softly as I tease her pussy with my tongue, flicking my tongue over her clitoris. To really explore her cunt, I remove my fingers from her ass, replacing them with a slim pink butt plug that I bought specifically for the occasion. Daliyah is the kind of chick who likes being filled in all her holes, and that's okay with me because if she can take it, I'm more than willing to dish it out.

I stop licking Daliyah's pussy for a second, and she groans in protest, wondering why I stopped. Oh, yeah. She isn't pleased and she's definitely not shy about letting me know. Get on with it, Johari! I notice the pink toy is dangerously close to slipping out of her well-lubricated asshole, and push it back inside with a firm thrust. Not to worry, it has a flat base, just so it doesn't disappear inside her ass. Assholes are hungry things, after all, and they tend to hold onto what goes inside. Wouldn't want my sweet Daliyah to have an embarrassing trip to the emergency room, would we? I laugh, imagining the look on the doctors and nurses as we tried to explain the nature of her problem.

Daliyah is getting impatient with me. I give her gorgeous ass another slap, and resume eating her pussy. Suddenly, I grab her by the hips and whirl her around, sending her tumbling on her back. Daliyah stares at me as if I'm crazy. I look down at her with my usual fearless smile, and tell her that I felt like doing something different. Without waiting for her response, I spread her thighs, and dive in. My hungry mouth finds her pussy, and I begin feasting on her like a starved woman finding food after weeks of hunger.

Daliyah's screams of pleasure fill the room, and the mattress shakes underneath us. My fingers slip inside of her, first two then three. Four fingers, that's the maximum she can take. I look into Daliyah's golden brown eyes as I begin fisting her. Her eyes are wide, her gorgeous face covered with sweat, and her mouth opens in a soundless gasp. She wants to scream but can't. My mouth clamp down on her left breast, suckling eagerly. I hang onto her as she trashes underneath me, her pussy literally vibrating around my hand embedded deep inside her. At last she screams, and I look and see tears of pain and joy streaming down her beautiful face. My Somali goddess is orgasmic, she's reached nirvana, and I know for a fact that I brought her there. My lips find hers and we kiss passionately as our contorting bodies lock in a tight embrace.

I remember the first time we fooled around, in the ladies washroom of the Carleton University library, after slipping the "closed for cleaning" sign on the door. I grabbed her, pressed her against the wall and started kissing her and fondling her. Our lips met, and played tonsil-hockey, violently and roughly, just the way she liked it, as I would soon discover. I took her violently that first time, my fumbling hands hiking up her long skirt, slipping inside her panties. My fingers slipped into her hot, wet pussy, and I felt her heaving breasts press against mine. A sharp cry of pleasure escaped her as my fingers explored her sweet spot, and our eyes locked as I felt her defiance, her impatience, and the oh so surrender in her gaze as she surrendered to me. We had fun that first time, when we threw caution to the wind and surrendered to our lust. We've come a long way since then, that's for sure.

Daliyah and I are more careful these days. Can't have the good folks at our university find out that the daughter of high-ranking Jordanian Royal Court cleric Wahid Hashem is banging her Somali classmate. Why, that would be scandalous, wouldn't it? I shudder to think about what people would say or do, if they knew. At the same time, a sick thrill courses through me. Sometimes, even though I know it would be suicide, I yearn to be out in the open as a Muslim woman who loves women. Daliyah and I have our fun in private, fucking like jack rabbits, as one of my classmates, that plump gal Hannah from Calgary, would say.

Daliyah and I have a lot of responsibilities. She's a chemistry major at Carleton and takes four classes per semester, on top of working as a cashier at Loblaws on weekend to pay her bills. As for me, I've got so many responsibilities as the daughter of a Jordanian diplomat living in the City of Ottawa. I'm always off to one boring ceremonial function or another with my parents. Tonight, though, I was able to get away. That's why I wanted to try something special with Daliyah. She introduced me to the wonderful, twisted world of BDSM. How about that? My tall, feisty, smart-mouthed and big-bottomed Somali girlfriend likes to be dominated! That's cool, right?

I look at Daliyah, and she gives me the what-have-you-done-to-me look. I shrug happily, and tell her that I've got some skills when it comes to pleasuring women. I take her hand in mine and kiss it. Daliyah smiles, and then fluffs up her pillow before going to sleep. I get up, because I've got to pee. After doing my business, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Five-foot-six, slender and bronze-skinned, brown-eyed and raven-haired, that's me. One hundred and twenty five pounds of Jordanian-born female fury, that's how my cousin Aisha once described me. I brush a stray curl from my face. Most days I wear the hijab, like a good little Jordanian diplomat's daughter. Except that I'm not.

I haven't been a good little diplomat's daughter in a while. I discovered my preference for women early on. At the age of nineteen, I've already had quite a few relationships. I hadn't known what love is until I met Daliyah, the Somali gal who stole my heart when we met in a prayer room at the university we both attend. In Daliyah, I found a kindred spirit and someone who understood. Like me she knows what it's like to be a devout Muslim, a dutiful daughter and a woman who loves women. Daliyah's father Hassan Sheikh Abdikarim is the Imam of one of the largest mosques in the City of Ottawa. Through his real estate agency, he's a successful businessman and he's considered by many to be a great leader in the Somali Canadian community.

Wow, my girlfriend's father isn't just a Muslim dude, he's also an Imam! If people found out his daughter Daliyah was a lesbian, scandal would erupt and her life would be forfeit. As would mine, if news about my true passions ever got out. In spite of our precautions, Daliyah and I are risking a lot. Still, what else could we do? To live without love and without passion is no life at all. Walking on my tippy toes, I return to the bedroom and slip back into bed. I wrap my arms around Daliyah and inhale the smell of her hair. Goodnight sweetie, I smiled before closing my eyes as sleep takes me.