Saudi Ladies For Somali Men

Sometimes I wonder why so many annoying bozos, assorted creeps and bigots come my way, then I realize the answer the moment I ask myself the question. They come my way because I am the only one who can deal with them accordingly. Everyone I know run from trouble while I deal with it. Notice that I didn't say that I seek it out. Never bring trouble to trouble itself until it troubles you.

In case you're wondering who this is, the name is Nabila Maher, and I'm a 21-year-old Saudi-born Canadian Muslim woman living in the City of Toronto, Ontario. As I sit in the library at Ryerson University, I smiled to myself. For the online world is abuzz with exciting news for a change. The kind of news an Afro-centric sister like myself likes to read about.

Now, considering I identify as Saudi-Canadian, you might find it puzzling that I identify as Afro-centric in my views and politics. The reason why? I have Black blood in me. It shows in the curls of my hair, the fullness of my lips, the roundness of my eyes, the light brown/darkish bronze taint of my skin, and last but not least, in my decidedly ample derriere. Women all over the world got nice bums, but everyone knows African women are the undisputed mistresses of that game.

My father, Mahmoud Maher, is Saudi Arabian, and my mother, Azizah Adewale is half Saudi and half Nigerian. I am most definitely a woman of color, forever proud of my African and Arabian lineages. I first saw the light of day in the City of Al Kharj, somewhere in central Saudi Arabia. My parents moved to Ontario three years later and we've lived here ever since.

The City of Toronto, Ontario, truly Canada's biggest metropolis, just selected veteran police officer Mark Saunders to become its new Chief of Police. The media is having a field day with this. It's a brand new day in Canada. The big news? Mr. Saunders is the first Black man to serve as Chief of Police anywhere in Canada. This is unprecedented, to tell you the truth. Many across Canada don't know what to make of it.

"Frigging minorities want to take over now," said a tall, bald-headed and tattooed, leather-clad young white man sitting next to me as he saw me browsing the news online. I hate nosy people, especially when they say stupid things like this. I took a deep breath and willed myself to be calm before I replied to this annoying and probably bigoted clown.

"Well, since you white folks aren't making enough babies, people who look like me will outnumber you soon and take over Canada," I said defiantly, and the bozo's face turned beet-red, and he rose from his chair. I looked at him, refusing to back down before this behemoth even though I'm five-foot-four and have often been called "pixie" by many.

"Bitch, what did you just say to me?" said the bozo, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, fists clenched. I saw anger in his eyes. I guess short, bronze-skinned, Hijab-wearing ladies like myself aren't supposed to be loud and defiant but oh well. Tough shit. I looked up at the tattooed freak and refused to be intimidated by his height or size. I am a Saudi woman, where I come from, we have people a lot scarier than this pale creep.

Women like me stare down the creeps of ISIS. You might have heard of them? They're the Islamist terrorist group that has a penchant for beheading those who disagree with them. I faced them when I went to visit family in the Middle East two years ago. I'll be damned if I let myself get intimidated by this Skinhead wannabe...

"Step away from the lady unless you want your teeth knocked out," said a gruff male voice, and a tall, burly brother got up and stepped between the bald-headed bozo and myself. The pale creep looked from my would-be rescuer to myself, scoffed and then flashed that fake smile I'm so used to seeing on the faces of white Canadians.

"I'm going to vote Conservative next year, and hopefully Prime Minister Stephen Harper will change immigration laws and kick all of you fucking minorities out of Canada," the bozo said, as a parting shot, and then he walked away. I slowly let out the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. Seriously, that was a close one!

"Sister, are you alright?" said the tall brother, and I saw concern on his dark, handsome face. I smiled and nodded, thankful for his help, and keenly aware that everyone inside the Ryerson University campus library was looking at us. Our not so quiet little exchange with the tattooed creep hadn't gone unnoticed, it would seem.

"I'll be fine, brother, thank you," I said gently, and without thinking, I touched my savior's arm. The tall brother, who looked decidedly Somali, smiled shyly, a stark contrast to the furious man who stood between me and my would-be tormentor mere moments ago. Interesting. Very interesting, to say the least.

"As Salam Alaikum, sister, I am Dahir Hassan," the Somali-looking brother said with a gentle nod, and he hesitated when I held out my hand to him, but shook it. We exchanged a smile, and I told him my name. Usually, I am not that forward with males, especially the ones from my faith. What can I say? Even in those first moments, Dahir made an impression on me.

"Good to meet you Dahir, thanks for your help, that creep looks like he might actually hit a sister," I said with a laugh, even though I was still nervous. I'm a spunky woman, but truth be told, I know my limits. No way in hell I would have lasted more than a few minutes against that racist creep, not while unarmed anyways.

"If that pale imitation of a real man had laid a single hand upon you, my sister, he would be with his ancestors," Dahir said somberly, and I watched, amazed, as his shy smile disappeared, and a look of untold ferocity crept into his handsome face. I've heard talk of Somali men and their intensity. They're easygoing, friendly and relaxed one minute and lethal the next.

"You're an angel," I said, and Dahir nodded, once again that self-effacing, gentle smile returned to his face. We smiled at each other, and then I heard myself ask the brother to join me for coffee, since I needed a break from all the encryption codes I've been looking at for my Software Security class. Alright, and I was curious about Dahir as well.

"I'm just a nerd who got lucky and won a civil engineering scholarship," Dahir said to me, a few minutes later, as we grabbed coffee at the Tim Horton's near campus. I smiled and raised my cup to him, for even a gifted computer science student like myself can't do advanced mathematics 24/7. Engineers fascinate me, seriously.

"Math isn't exactly my strong suit but I like coding, so I guess I'm a nerd too," I said, laughing, and Dahir and I exchanged dap. The brother sipped his coffee, and then told me more about himself. Dahir was a relative newcomer to Canada, having moved to Ontario from the Puntland region of Somalia with his parents a decade ago.

"Canada is an awesome place, but lately, it's like the country is being split in two," Dahir said, and I noticed that three young white guys in line at the Tim Horton's counter looked at us disapprovingly. One of them was holding hands with a Chinese chick. That's Toronto for you, where racism and racial diversity go hand in hand. Even people in interracial relationships can have something against certain minority groups, especially Muslims.

"Brother, I think I know just what you mean, the country is rapidly becoming more diverse, racially speaking, and not everyone is happy about that," I said, and Dahir grinned, and nodded at me. Even in Toronto, people like us attract attention. Also, whenever something bad happens, the first people to get the blame are Muslims, people like Dahir and I. As a woman who wears the Hijab day in and day out, I get a lot of hate, even in Toronto.

"Don't let them get to you," Dahir said evenly, and his fingers brushed against my hand. I looked at him and smiled, and then we finished our coffees and walked out of the Tim Horton's. We returned to Ryerson University and went our separate ways, but not before exchanging numbers. Again, this wasn't my typical thing to do with guys I just met, but I had a good feeling about Dahir.

"See you around school, Insha'Allah," I said to Dahir, who smiled and nodded, as we parted ways. I returned to the library and Dahir took off, headed for his next class, presumably. As cliché as it may sound, I turned around and watched him go. Tall, dark and handsome, and also sensitive and smart, but with a hidden ferocity underneath. Hmmm, and a cute butt too. Mama likes!

That night, I went home with a big smile on my face. As we sat together at the dinner table, I kept smiling. My parents were curious about the source of my good mood ( I had been in a bit of a funk lately ) but I kept mum about Dahir. Now, I love my folks and all that, but a gal's got to have a few secrets of her own, alright? That's it, that's all...

Dahir and I became pals, and we began hanging out. At first, we only saw each other on campus, or at Islamic community events, but then he asked me to go see a movie with him and I agreed. We watched the new movie Avengers : Age Of Ultron, which was absolutely awesome, by the way, and then went for a walk around downtown T.O.

"Nabila, I enjoy your company and I've been meaning to ask you something," Dahir said hesitantly, and I smiled and tried not to roll my eyes as I watched this tall, handsome, devout Muslim brother from Somalia try to work up the nerve to ask me out.

"You like me and want me to be your girlfriend?" I said innocently, and Dahir nodded. I took a step closer to him, and Dahir slowly, tentatively put his arms around me. I let go of my inhibitions ( not an easy thing when you're a Muslim female fighting fourteen centuries of Islamic tradition and indoctrination ) and embraced Dahir.

"Ente Jamile, Masha' Allah," Dahir said, and I blushed, at his accented Arabic and the meaning behind those words. For my sweet Dahir just told me that he found me beautiful. I took Dahir's face in my hands and looked into his eyes, and then, I stood on my tippy toes and, ahem, I kissed him. I kissed Dahir, and totally blew him away.

"Soft lips you've got there, my sister," Dahir said, smiling faintly, once we came up for air. The tall Somali stud gently stroked my chin, and then he kissed me. This time, the brother's hands caressed me gently but firmly, going from my waist to my back, and I felt them brush against my behind, and a thrill shot through me. I looked at Dahir and saw a naughty gleam in those eyes of his, and smiled. The brother has definite potential. A few weeks later, we went downtown to chill. Sightseeing and shit, you know?

"Let's make it official, with this relationship of ours," I whispered to Dahir, and just to make sure he got the right idea, I playfully smacked his ass. Dahir jerked awkwardly, then smiled and nodded. Hand in hand, we walked down Yonge Street, and made our way to the Eaton Center, where Dahir and I grabbed some Chinese food.

"You are full of surprises, Nabila, I thought you Saudi ladies were all repressed but you're something else," Dahir said, smiling and shaking his head. We sat at a table near the center of the Eaton Center food court, and I ate some tasty shrimp while eyeing Dahir.

"You got no idea," I whispered innocently, as I laid a hand on Dahir's thigh, and much to my amazement, the brother kept his cool. Grabbing my hand, Dahir brought it back to the tabletop, and then, winking, he brought it to his lips. I gasped in surprise, and also because it tickled where Dahir's lips touched me. I was trying to shock him and the brother turned the tables on me. Nice!

"I'm full of surprises too, finish your meal and come with me and you just might find out," Dahir said, smiling wolfishly and I nodded, and promptly finished my meal. Dahir, who had long since emptied his plate ( Somali guys can EAT ) sat across from me, looking totally sexy and confident in his blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black tie. The brother looked good enough to eat...

"What do you have in store for me?" I asked Dahir, pretending to be nervous, as the brother brought me to his off-campus apartment. The place was small, but neat. African artworks adorned the walls, along with some Somali cultural artifacts. Dahir was definitely in touch with his culture. I like that in a man.

"Your wildest dreams and more," Dahir said with a grin, and then he grabbed me and kissed me, pressing me against the wall of his living room. I kissed him back furiously, and all the passion I'd been keeping bottled up inside threatened to erupt and come to the surface like a massive volcano.

"Shut up and fuck me already, Dahir!" I said, glaring into Dahir's eyes, and he grinned in a most feral and sexy manner. Hastily we undressed each other. Off came his fine silk shirt and pants, and I was delighted to see that Dahir wasn't wearing any underwear. I took off my long-sleeved red T-shirt and yanked down my ankle-length black skirt, then pulled down my panties.

"Come here," Dahir said, just as I was about to take off my bra and Hijab, but he didn't even let me. Pulling down onto the couch, Dahir sat me down, and then kissed me all over. I giggled as Dahir kissed my tits, and twisted them before licking them softly, and I laughed, loving the deliciously hot pain and wicked pleasure.

"You are so beautiful," Dahir said, and I smiled, happy as can be, for if I looked half as good as Dahir thought I did, in that moment, I might be the most beautiful woman in the world. I reached for Dahir's face and took it into my hands, and let him how much his sweet words moved me.

"Enough sweet talk, Dahir, eat my pussy if you know what's good for you," I said, nodding for emphasis, and Dahir finally did as he was told. The Somali brother buried that handsome face of his between my legs, and ate my pussy. I sighed happily, and a naughty grin crept into my face as I watched our reflections on the full-length mirror that Dahir, for some reason, had on his living room wall.

I sat there, watching myself being pleasured by Dahir, whose tongue slid into my pussy, followed by his fingers, causing me to shudder happily at the wicked sensations he unleashed upon me. Brother definitely knows how to eat pussy! I watched our reflections, extremely turned on by what I was beholding. Seriously, if the sisters from the women's circle at the Masjid could see me, they'd be shocked.

I don't remember removing my bra but I disposed of it at some point, but totally forgot my Hijab as Dahir began pleasuring me. I was completely naked, save for the headscarf, and Dahir's face was between my legs, as he devoured my pussy hungrily. I saw that cute butt of his practically wriggling as he pleasured me, and smiled wickedly. If Dahir only knew. I wanted to spank him....

"Slow down big man," I whispered, gently caressing Dahir's curly-haired head, and he paused, looked up at me, his cute mouth wet from my womanly juices. The Somali stud's lips were smeared with my essence, and I couldn't resist tasting myself. I grabbed Dahir's face and he rose up, and I kissed him, getting a good taste of my cunt on his lips.

"Dahir, get right back to what you were doing," I said, and Dahir complied wonderfully, resuming licking my pussy with gusto. Dahir licked me, taking his sweet time with it, and I absolutely loved it. Soon the Somali stud had me panting and moaning, and finally, my floodgates opened, and I heard myself cry out, and soon I came. I'd cum before, of course ( Muslim girls masturbate too ) but never like this.

"That was intense," Dahir said, looking up at me, a wry grin on his face. After the sexual cyclone Dahir unleashed upon me, I'd taken a few moments to recover. Now I was hornier than ever, and my eyes roved up and down Dahir's tall, muscular and decidedly sexy, masculine form. My gaze zeroed in on his long and thick dick, and I smiled hungrily.

"That looks yummy," I said, licking my lips, and without waiting for Dahir's response, I shoved him backwards, and he tumbled on the carpeted floor. Before Dahir knew what hit him, I got between his legs, and grabbed that dick of his with both hands. Dahir looked at me, stunned. I winked at him, and like every hungry person in history, I helped myself to something tasty.

"Oh," Dahir said, and he smiled that wonderful smile that a lot of guys have on their faces when they're receiving pleasure. I felt like saying something smart but my mouth was otherwise occupied, filled to the max with Dahir's thick Somali tool. I inhaled the masculine musk emanating from Dahir's balls as I sucked his dick, loving it. I like the smell of a man's dick, seriously. While sucking Dahir's dick, a deliciously naughty idea crept into my head. I "accidentally" slid a finger up Dahir's ass, and I felt his warm, tight ass clench around my finger.

I looked into Dahir's eyes and he said nothing, that smile frozen on his face. I noticed that Dahir's dick got harder in my mouth as I fingered his ass, so I dug in deeper. Lo and behold, the more I fingered Dahir's ass, the harder his dick seemed to get. Wonder what will happen if I slide a second finger up in there? I did just that, and Dahir sighed happily.

"Oh yeah, just like that," Dahir said, and I continued fingering his ass while sucking his dick, and moments later, something amazing happened. Dahir cried out, well, bellowed is more like it, and he told me that he was about to cum. Never one to back down from a challenge, even an unspoken one, I sucked Dahir's dick with gusto and buried my fingers as far as they would into his ass.

"Cum for me," I said, as I pulled my mouth off Dahir's manhood, then wickedly flicked my tongue over his dick head. This just about drove Dahir over the edge and he came, crying out as he did. I watched, amazed, as Dahir came, his cum shooting out of his dick like a fireball from a cannon, only in liquid form. I think some of it even hit the ceiling, though I can't be one hundred percent sure.

"Let me taste you," I said, and I took Dahir's dick into my mouth once more, and sucked all of the tasty masculine juice out of it. Dahir grinned, and sighed happily. I licked some of Dahir's wayward cum drops from my fingers, and smiled at him, and then I smiled some more as I noticed our reflections in the mirror. Naked Hijabi sucking dick, what will they think of next?

"Where have you been all my life?" Dahir said, laughing, as he pulled me up and drew me into those strong arms of his. I straddled Dahir, sitting comfortably on his lap. Gently I touched his handsome face as his hands went to my waist, then slipped downward and began caressing my big butt. I felt Dahir's dick harden underneath me.

"All that matters is that I'm here with you right now, so let's not waste the moment" I said, and Dahir grinned and kissed me passionately, then thrust into me. I gasped happily, welcoming the intrusion of Dahir's thick dick into my womanhood. Finally, we were one. Dahir licked my tits and playfully smacked my ass as he fucked me.

"Hot damn," Dahir said, smiling wickedly as I rode him hard. As he thrust into me, I gave as good as I damn well got. With my arms around Dahir's neck and his hands on my ass, I impaled my hungry, aching and wet cunt on his hard dick. We cried out with wild abandon as we fucked, or made love, whatever you want to call it. Dahir and I got our freak on, as they say, for quite a few deliriously passionate hours.

"Wallahi, that was amazing," I said, sighing happily while resting my head on Dahir's surprisingly smooth chest. Dahir smiled and nodded, but said nothing. Gently he kissed me on the forehead, and then, moments later, he was snoring loudly. I looked at Dahir's sleeping form in the darkness that had fallen across his apartment ( night had fallen ) and smiled contentedly.

For the first time in a long time, everything in my life was looking up. Things are good at Ryerson University, and with my parents visiting relatives in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for part of the summer, so Dahir and I are free to have our fun. Anytime and anyplace we feel like. Don't know what the future holds, any more than you do, but I am living my life on my terms, beyond the boundaries of faith, culture or race. Best way to live, if you ask me.