Ottawa Muslim Sex Diaries

Sometimes life throws you some major curveballs, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Choukri Wahid, and I'm a young Muslim woman of Somali and Lebanese descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I study business at Algonquin College, and I'm here to clear up some misconceptions about us Muslim ladies. Let the truth be told, so to speak.

I know we Muslim ladies mystify you Westerners with our Hijabs, our long dresses and our pious yet at times very sensuous ways. We are different from the ladies you are used to dealing with. Or are we? The mystery factor about Muslim women in Western countries? It's completely intentional, ladies and gentlemen. Read on and get ready to get shocked. Five-foot-nine, curvy and sexy, with light brown skin, long black hair and chestnut eyes, I'm pretty and deceptively innocent, but believe me, I am nothing but trouble.

"Damn, woman, you're killing me," whispered my lover Guillaume Marcelin as I rolled off of him, my pussy on fire, after riding the hell out of his long and thick, magnificent Haitian dick. I looked at my lover's six-foot-tall, lean and athletic body and grinned, and then, without warning, I grabbed his dick and resumed sucking it. Guillaume sighed happily and didn't resist me, and I engulfed his Haitian snake in my mouth, breathing new life into it. Got him hard again in no time. I wanted to get fucked again, but first, I wanted Guillaume to please me in other ways.

"Worship this ass, sexy man," I said to Guillaume as I got on all fours, and spread my big brown ass cheeks wide open. The happy smile on Guillaume's face thrilled me like you would not believe. The Haitian brother kissed my big butt, and then proceeded to stick his tongue in my asshole. I love having my ass eaten, and Guillaume can't get enough of my ass. Black men love a big ass, everyone knows that. I moaned in pleasure as Guillaume ate my ass. Afterwards, I was ready for some more fun.

"I'm ready to ride you again, and try to last more than an hour this time," I hissed as I rolled on top of Guillaume, and straddled him. Guillaume grinned and his big hands automatically went to my thick brown ass, which he slapped playfully. The sexy Haitian stud looked up at me, and he gently caressed my breasts, then my face. I smiled and leaned over, planting a soft kiss on Guilaume's full lips. I felt his dick harden underneath me and grinned. Once again, it was time to fuck.

"Harder, dammit!" I cried, grabbing Guillaume's face for effect, and the burly ebony stud grinned, slapped my ass and thrust deeper into me. I cried out, surrendering to the deliciously hot pain mixed with wicked pleasure I felt down below as he fucked me. I absolutely love rough sex, and nobody dishes it out like my dark-skinned Haitian lover. Seriously, I don't know what they feed those brothers down in the Caribbean but keep them coming.

"That was fun," I said, laughing as I rested my head against Guillaume's hairy chest. The Haitian stud smiled and gently kissed my forehead. Moments later, Guillaume was fast asleep. Guess I wore him out. I smiled, quite pleased with myself. I've got what's known in East African communities as a killer pussy. A lot of females think they've got it but me, I'm the genuine article. This pussy of mine could make a gay man straight, seriously.

After a night of passion at Guillaume's place in Kanata, it was time for me to go. I kissed Guillaume goodbye, and that was that. A good time, that's all it was. Guillaume and I come from different worlds. The brother is Haitian, and grew up in the Adventist faith. Me? I am a Muslim woman, albeit a liberal one with freaky tendencies. We're good friends and fuck buddies, nothing more. I took the 96 bus and began the long trek back to the City of Ottawa. Once I reached the east end, I switched buses at Hurdman Station, and got on the 9 bus heading into Vanier. I got off on Donald Street, and walked my big beautiful ass home.

I went to work at Loblaw's, and did my eight hours at the checkout stands as a cashier. I get a lunch break and two fifteen-minute breaks. That's it. The rest of the time, I'm on my feet, faking a smile and dealing with ill-tempered customers. I can't stand the job but I've got bills to pay. The thing about Loblaw's is that the crew over there is split in two.

On one side, you've got people like me, the so-called minorities. The Somalis, the Haitians, the Jamaicans, the Arabs, the Indians, the Latinos, the Chinese people and the Aboriginals. On the other side, you've got white people. The French Canadians, the English Canadians, the Italians and the others. We don't like each other. You've got to watch your back even in a minimum-wage job, man. Backstabbing, passive aggression and fake friendships are a way of life in Ottawa. You can't trust anyone in this dismal little town.

"I'm out," I said to Michelle the dreaded shift supervisor, an annoying middle-aged white woman who rolls her eyes way too often whenever she's talking to anyone who isn't white. I didn't even wait for the old bitch's answer. I just walked out. Seriously, people, the word hate isn't strong enough to describe how I feel about my job. I walked back to my apartment, and lay on my bed, wondering if I was made to do anything other than pay bills and run around in this rat race that makes up life in North America.

When my parents left their respective nations and moved to Ontario, Canada, I guess they were dreaming of a better life. My father Ali Wahid is originally from the City of Mogadishu, Somalia, and my mother Yasmin Sale is from the City of Amran, Yemen. You don't see a lot of African Muslim men with Arab wives, that's for damn sure. My parents and I used to get a lot of stares from everyone wherever we went. Interracial couples attract a lot of attention, even in Islamic communities. Jealous Arab males used to hurl slurs at my father when they saw him holding hands with my mother and I. Bunch of insecure, bigoted morons.

Ladies and gentlemen, unlike most Muslim women you will ever meet, I'll be honest. I love sex. I love men. I love the male body. I can't get enough of it. Masculinity is sexy to me. I've had sex with men of various races, ethnicities and faiths. As long as he's good-looking, respects me, and knows how to treat a lady in and out of the bedroom, I can deal with him. I play by my own rules. I know it's not the Islamic way or the Somali way but I don't care. I do my own thing. One day, maybe, I'll be ready to settle down. For now, my focus is having good, uncomplicated fun, graduating from college and doing big things with my life. That's it, that's all.