Arab Woman Into Black Men

Good Lebanese girls don't suck black dick, I silently told myself as I wrapped my lips around Gary Davilmar's long and thick cock. Sitting on the bed, the burly young Haitian groaned in pleasure and ran his hand through my long, curly black hair. I looked up at Gary and he winked at me, silently urging me to continue. I'm already on my knees so I might as well finish what I started. I sucked Gary's dick and licked his dark, hairy balls. He moaned softly, and told me to take it easy. I sometimes forget myself. It's hard to suck dick when you wear braces but hey, a gal's got to do what a gal's got to do, right?

Just in case you're wondering who this is, my name is Maya Suleiman, and I'm a Lebanese-Canadian Muslim woman living in the City of Ottawa, province of Ontario. I study criminal justice at Carleton University, and hope to go to Law school someday. Oh, um, I've got a thing for black guys, especially the ones from the Caribbean because here in Canada they're the only ones daring enough to date us Middle-Eastern women. Black men from Africa are all too familiar with Arab racism and won't dare flirt with an Arab woman for fear of Arab men's reaction. Arab guys flip out when they see an Arab woman with a guy from another race or culture. And they absolutely hate seeing us Arab women with black guys most of all. I could care less. That's why I am sucking Gary's dick with gusto, polishing his cock with my mouth and tongue.

I sucked Gary's dick until I could feel him beginning to shake, his knees quavered and his eyes widened. I knew he was about to cum long before he began shouting and moaning. I continued sucking him, not letting up until he gave it up. I wanted to feel his hot manly sperm all over my face. So to really drive him over the edge I slipped my finger up his ass, and just like I thought it would, he came right then and there. A lot of men refuse to admit it but the male G-spot in inside every man's bum. Gary came, blasting his cum all over my face. I smiled as I felt a geyser of hot cum all over me.

Gary exhaled sharply, and looked at me, his eyes glazed over. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and smiled. How are you feeling? I asked Gary, smiling wickedly. Gary shook his head and told me he felt great, then he scooped me up in his arms. As Gary kissed me and began nibbling on my tits, I looked at our reflections in the bedroom mirror. How different we looked. Gary is six-foot-four, dark-skinned and muscular. He's built like a college football player even though he's one of the most nerdy people I know. He studies civil engineering at the University of Ottawa. I'm five-foot-eight, busty, plump-bodied and big-bottomed. I've got black hair, bronze skin and pale brown eyes. Oh, and before I forget? I am GOOD in bed!

Gary sucks on the areola of my left breast and fondles my right tit with his right hand while his left hand spreads my plump thighs. I moaned softly as I felt Gary's fingers slide into my pussy. I'm already wet, I got so excited sucking his dick and watching his body spasm with pleasure as I worked him over. Gary kisses his way down from my breasts, patting my round belly and making his way to my pelvic area. He spreads my thighs wide open, and teases my pussy lips with his tongue. I absolutely hate it when he teases me like this. Grabbing the silver crucifix hanging around his neck, I urge him to lick my damn pussy if he knows what's good for him.

Gary grins wryly then goes to work on me. His mouth follows his agile fingers, fastening on my pussy lips. His tongue darts inside of me, twisting this way and that. I grab the back of his neck and press him against my mound, for I can't get enough of what he's doing to me. I shudder with pleasure all over as Gary's fingers and tongue sent little shivers of pleasure deep inside of me. I feel my toes curling as Gary finally gets me, right in the sweet spot. Oh, yeah. That's my spot. I tell Gary to keep working it and I want it faster and harder but the damn teaser slows down, tormenting me in the best AND worst way possible.

I grip the bed sheets, and spasm all over as the magic moment arrives at last. Finally, I cum, and it's quick, violent, rough and hot all at once. In all the excitement, I absolutely lose control, my head actually bangs the bed post and my thrashing legs lash out, as I feel that sweet fire down below. I cry out in pleasure, swearing in every language I know, from the Arabic of my homeland to the French and English I learned at public schools in Ontario. I lie on the bed, and for a moment I am unsure where I am. Finally, my vision clears, and I look at Gary. My sexy Haitian stud kisses my lips, and gathers me into his arms.

I look into Gary's eyes, and I see love, lust and fascination there. I kiss him passionately, and reach for his member. All of a sudden I've got to have him inside of me. Gary doesn't resist. He rolls a condom on his dick and slides it into my pussy. A sharp cry escapes my lips as he thrusts into me. This isn't my first rough ride by any means. The myth of the chaste and repressed Arab woman is just that, a myth. I've been with plenty of men. Still, Gary is in a class by himself. When he makes love to me, he does so as if his life depends on it. He explores every inch of my flesh, and fucks me roughly or gently, depending on what I'm in the mood for. And he's always passionate, whether he's pounding my pussy with his dick like a hammer striking an anvil or making sweet love to me. He always gives it his all, and then some.

Much later, we lie in each other's arms, our bodies glistening with sweat. I'm still awake but Gary is fast asleep. I look at him, and in the dim light of the moon, he looks so beautiful. Gently I run my index finger along his hairy chest. We definitely come from different worlds, though we're both immigrants in Canada. I was born in the City of Baskinta, in a predominantly Christian area of Lebanon. My family lost a lot of people during the Christian/Muslim conflict in the Republic of Lebanon, that's why my parents, Djohar and Aisha Suleiman came to Canada in 1989 with my brother Muhammad and me. I was two and my brother was one. Yep, I'm the daughter of refugees.

As for Gary, interestingly, his family left the Caribbean island of Haiti for similar reasons. His parents, Arthur and Michelle Davilmar were staunch supporters of the Duvalier regime and when that dictator fell, they left Haiti for the City of Montreal, province of Quebec. Gary was born in Quebec a year after his parents arrived in Canada. In the eyes of most Canadians, I am a "real Canadian" because I can pass for Italian. I don't wear a hijab and nothing I do or say marks me as "Muslim" until someone asks for ID. Gary often tells me about the racism he experiences daily in Canada because he's a black man. The fact that he's a proud Christian in a country that's increasingly worried about Muslim radicals has done nothing to deter the bigots who hate him for his skin tone.

We're both products of our environments and cultures, I guess. I don't remember Lebanon, though my parents speak of it fondly and I have no desire to return. I don't want to see Sharia law being applied to nations in the West and I don't get involved in Arab politics. If you were to ask me about Lebanon's political situation today, I'd tell you that it's better off with a Christian president. You can call me a traitor to my faith if you want, I don't care. I practice my Muslim faith privately, since I've never really felt at home in Masjids. They're too restrictive and too political for my liking. Don't much care for the sexist and judgemental Imams either. Most of my friends at school are people from other religions. My fondness for wearing short skirts, drinking alcohol and partying hard don't sit well with a lot of the Muslim students at school. Some of them even wear the burka, if you can believe that! And last but not least, I own a dog, a Pomeranian called Davy. Now you've seen everything!

I live in an apartment in the east end of Ottawa, far away from my parents, who are recently divorced but live in the same apartment building in Gatineau. My brother Muhammad lives in Orleans with his Somali girlfriend Zarah. He knows I like black men but doesn't approve, yet sees absolutely nothing hypocritical in that. We don't talk much because he's a drunkard and a racist. He flunked out of Algonquin College, and can't hold a job. Yeah, that's my family. Welcome to my life, ladies and gentlemen. I haven't told this to Gary but I honestly envy him. I've felt more welcome at his mostly black church the few times I visited it than at any Masjid where I've set foot. Goes to show you some of the key differences between our two faiths.

I honestly wish I could marry Gary, and become his wife. I want to bear his brats. I think they'd be beautiful. Sadly, I don't think it's meant to be. Gary is Christian and I am a Muslim. I would never ask Gary to convert to Islam because I know how much his Christian faith means to him. Also, I like that Gary is a Christian. He's treated me far better than any of the men ( from my faith ) that I've dealt with. Even if he was a Muslim, my parents would never accept him because he is black and us Arabs are the most racist people in the world. Trust me, the Nazis got nothing on us. My people hate all non-Arabs but will deny it till kingdom come. It's who we are, I guess. We deny that bigoted, intolerant preachers spur our young men to join radical movements and we deny that there is a lot of racism in Arab communities. Deny, deny, deny. It's the Arab way. I close my eyes and fall asleep, letting my mind wander to dreamland, where anything is possible. For I know what my reality is and I hate it.