Afaf of Saudi Arabia

As Salam Alaikum, dear reader. My name is Afaf Hussein and I'm a Saudi Arabian woman living in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia. I was born on August 14, 1981. In 2001, I went to live in the United Kingdom, and studied at Brunel University, where I earned a Master's degree in computer science. I returned to Saudi Arabia in 2005, and married Mahmoud Hussein, a long-time friend of my family's, and life has been the purest of hell for me ever since.

This isn't easy for me to say, but I cannot hide this much longer. I know that when the truth is discovered, my life will be forfeit. In the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the punishment for marital infidelity is death. Still, when love comes, what soul can truly resist its allure? I am a human being and I need to be loved. Even if I must perish for dreaming of it.

From the first time I laid eyes on Samuel Stephens, I knew that the six-foot-tall, handsome young Black man was different. We have a lot of Africans in Saudi Arabia but Samuel was different. The blacks I was used to dealing with are a servile bunch, mostly Somalis and other Northeast African Muslims. I'm sad to say that they're used to being treated like second-class citizens in most places within Saudi Arabian society.

We Saudis aren't on anyone's list when it comes to human rights, that's for sure. Arab hospitality is a legendary thing, which many cultures respect us for, but inside the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the rules are different. Even Arabs from places like Yemen, Lebanon and Syria find us hard to deal with because of all the strict rules governing behavior for men and women in Saudi Arabian society. We're the world's most conservative nation, and that makes us a breed apart, even among our fellow Arabs.

It's a mark of prestige among Saudi businessmen to have friends from places like Europe or America. My husband Mahmoud has entertained a lot of foreign businessmen at our villa on the outskirts of Dammam. When he told me that we would be hosting an American, I was nonplussed. Americans aren't exactly uncommon in Saudi Arabia. Everyone knows they want our oil!

Our new houseguest was something else, though. Samuel Stephens walked around like a prince, and spoke to people as if he didn't care who they were regardless of their race or station in life. I became fascinated with him, this handsome young man of color who walked like a lion. Born in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, to a white American mother and a Jamaican immigrant father, Samuel studied civil engineering at Northeastern University and learned Arabic while vacationing in Dubai with some Lebanese friends.

The young African-American businessman became fascinated with the Middle East, and at some point while in Dubai Samuel Stephens met my husband Mahmoud Hussein, impressed the hell out of him, and they became business partners as well as friends. When I met Samuel, my heart skipped a beat but I played it cool. Although my heart thundered in my chest, I acted nonchalant.

After all, I am a prim and proper Saudi Arabian wife. I know how to stay cool. Life in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is taxing on a woman with its many restrictions and draconian rules, so keeping a cool head while dealing with cruel and controlling men is a must for us Saudi ladies. It was obvious to me that my husband Mahmoud was quite taken with Samuel.

For a time, I found that worrisome because, like a lot of Saudi men, Mahmoud engages in homosexual activities with other males. I thought Samuel Stephens, the tall and beautiful young biracial man from Boston might be one of my husband's male lovers, but he was not. Samuel was one hundred percent heterosexual, much to my gay husband Mahmoud's everlasting lament.

My husband Mahmoud is fond of men of color, especially Filipino guys and Somali guys. We have a lot of workers from those countries, and Mahmoud has been known to get fucked by them. I pretend not to know about Mahmoud's fondness for getting buggered by young guys from exotic locations. Ah, the things that I must endure as a Saudi Arabian housewife!

While Samuel Stephens stayed at our villa, my husband Mahmoud had to fly to Oman to take care of some business. He'd be gone for three days, or so he told the staff at our household. Three whole days in our three-story, eighteen-room villa with its indoor pool, high-tech entertainment system and all that jazz. Samuel Stephens, the sexy American lad should have been in paradise. Instead, he was bored.

Like I said before, we Arabs take hospitality seriously, and I wouldn't be a good hostess if I didn't try to entertain Samuel Stephens, our houseguest, in my husband's stead. I got to know Samuel Stephens really well over the next few days, and I must say, the young biracial American wasn't what I expected. Samuel was friendly, charming and respectful, not at all like the boisterous, arrogant white American businessmen I'd met through my queer husband Mahmoud.

Samuel Stephens told me about his family in Boston, how his Jamaican father Raymond Stephens met his mother Claire O'Neill while studying at Boston University in the 1980s and they got married and had him, in spite of her family's protests. The young biracial man spoke proudly of his Adventist Christian faith, and showed me pictures of his paternal aunt Jacqueline, who was a Pastor.

As a Saudi Arabian Muslim woman, the idea of a woman preaching to men stunned me, and I begged Samuel to tell me more. Laughing, Samuel entertained my curiosity and told me all about the Adventist church, the advent of women preachers at churches across America, and how much he respected women. The more Samuel told me about his Christian faith and his family, the more fascinated I became.

When my husband Mahmoud called and told us that he'd stay in Oman longer than expected, I was filled with joy. The prospect of spending more time alone with Samuel Stephens, being regaled with tales of Boston, and his fascinating life in America, thrilled me like you would not believe. At least that's what I told myself, ladies and gentlemen.

Samuel and I got to know each other better over the course of the coming days, and my attraction to him grew. Never mind that Samuel Stephens, born on February 5, 1987, was a lot younger than me! I felt attracted to him. When this biracial stud told me that he found me beautiful, my heart skipped a beat. I hadn't been paid such a compliment in ages.

Let me be brutally honest here. I'm five-foot-five, chubby, with dark bronze skin and long black hair that I always tuck away under my Hijab. I have large breasts, a curvy body and a large derriere, and my womanly curves do nothing for my husband Mahmoud, since he is truly gay. I cannot divorce him since I don't want to be destitute because divorce laws in Saudi Arabia are biased against women. I haven't been made love since my wedding night. Yes, my heart truly did skip a beat when Samuel told me he found me beautiful.

When Samuel pulled me into his arms and kissed me, I didn't resist. I kissed the tall biracial stud with all the passion I could muster. We went to Samuel's room, and made love. Just like that, I crossed the line of acceptable behavior in Saudi Arabian culture. I got intimate with a man other than my husband. According to Saudi Arabian law, as a wayward wife, I could be arrested, condemned and beheaded.

Still, I didn't care that my life was basically over. When Samuel drew me into his arms and began kissing me and caressing me, it felt right. Samuel laid me on the bed, then proceeded to kiss my firm breasts, and suck on the areolas of my tits, causing me to moan in pleasure. Grinning, the Boston stud licked a path from my breasts to my thighs, and stopped there.

Looking into my eyes, Samuel smiled and once told me how beautiful I am and then, before I could reply, he buried his face between my legs. A shocked gasp escaped my lips as I felt Samuel's mouth pleasuring me, his tongue snaking into my pussy, followed by his surprisingly agile fingers. I cried out in ecstasy as parts of me which hadn't been touched in ages were tenderly and roughly prodded, licked, and pleasured.

Later, emboldened like never before, for the passion I'd long repressed was awakened by Samuel, I climbed on top of this beautiful young man and impaled my hungry pussy on his dick. Grinning, Samuel licked my tits and smacked my thick Saudi derriere as he thrust his manhood deep inside of me. I sighed happily as Samuel began fucking me. As Samuel's dick invaded my snatch, I wrapped my arms around him and looked into his eyes.

This wasn't just sex, not for either of us. True passion coursed between Samuel and I, throughout our entwined bodies, and into our very souls. This was my first time truly connecting with another human being. Samuel and I made love passionately for hours, and over the course of the coming days, we had sex dozens of times. I loved falling asleep in Samuel's arms, my head on his chest, and waking up with him. For the first time in ages, I felt happy, and I didn't want it to end.

Samuel and I come from different worlds. I'm a Saudi Arabian woman, and he's an American. I'm a Muslim female and Samuel is a Christian. We're not meant to be, or are we? Samuel told me that a beautiful, intelligent woman like me shouldn't waste my time or my life in a place like Saudi Arabia, playing wife for a man like Mahmoud, who secretly lusts after other males. Sadly, what choice do I have?

When Mahmoud returned, Samuel's business in Saudi Arabia was concluded and Samuel flew to Europe, then got on his way to Boston. I shall miss the gorgeous and wonderfully intelligent and sensitive Samuel Stephens. He gave me a necklace which once belonged to his grandmother, and told me that if I'm ever in the States, I'm more than welcome to visit him and his parents at their house on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston.

What a magnificent man, this sexy Samuel Stephens! At least I have my memories of him to last me through the rest of my days in Mahmoud's household. Or so I thought. A week after Samuel left, I found out that my cycle was...late. I am pregnant, and since I have lain with no other man, Samuel is the father. When Mahmoud finds out, he will have me executed. What's a gal to do? I am going to leave Saudi Arabia, one way or another, and go to Boston. My lover awaits, and together, we'll raise the fruit of our passion, which is growing within my womb even now.