Turish Femdom for African Men

"Damn, Beren, is every woman from Turkey this bossy or is it just you?" said Jabir "Jay" Akwasi as he looked at me hauntingly. The six-foot-one, handsome biracial stud looked good enough to eat as he lay on the bed, his hands and feet bound by silken scarves, his golden brown body shining in my dimly lit bedroom. Jabir is so tall, muscular and strongly built, seeing him so vulnerable turns me on like you would not believe. Got my pussy all wet, let me tell you.

"Trust me, Mr. Jay, I am one of a kind," I said, hands on my hips, as I towered over my tightly bound lover, who lay on the bed, tantalized by the sight of me. My name is Beren Bölükbaşi. I am probably not what most people first envision when they think of a dominatrix. I'm five-foot-nine, slender yet curvy in all the right spots, with dark bronze skin, short curly black hair and chestnut brown eyes. In the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where I was raised, I am often mistaken for either Persian or Arab. I always tell people that I am Turkish.

"Crazy woman," Jabir says, in a defiant tone that I find so sexy, and I grin maliciously as I squat over him. I reach for his dick, which is erect at this point and marvel at its length and thickness. Not to be stereotypical or anything but many men of color are well-endowed. Jabir, born in the City of London, Ontario, to a Ghanaian Muslim immigrant father and a white Canadian mother, definitely has the best of both worlds. The young man whom I call my caramel Adonis looks good enough to eat.

"Don't fret, or things will go from bad to worse for you," I whisper, and I lock eyes with Jabir as I bring my mouth close enough to his dick to actually kiss, and stop just short of doing that. I drink it all in, the hunger I see in his eyes, the ferocious need, and like the wicked bitch that I am, I continue to tease the hell out of Jabir, who struggles in his silken bonds to no avail.

From the first time I spotted Jabir as I walked through the Carleton University Atrium one afternoon on my way to an Ethics class in the Loeb Building, I knew he'd be mine. Six feet plus one inch tall, well-built and handsome, with caramel-hued skin, dark brown eyes and a thick Afro, the stud from London was simply irresistible. I decided to get my hands on this rare fish before all the horny bitches on the Carleton University campus started circling him like sharks smelling blood.

"Excuse me please, I'm trying to find the Loeb Building and I think I'm kind of lost," I said as I approached Jabir, doing my best damsel in distress impression. The tall, dark and handsome, virtually flawless vision of masculine beauty stopped, smiled, and nodded, and then took time out of his busy day to show me the way. Along the way, I introduced myself to him, and got the ball rolling.

"Please to meet you Beren, I'm kind of new here myself, I transferred to Carleton University from Fanshawne College, so I know what it's like to feel lost out here," Jabir said as he gently shook my hand. I looked him up and down, and there was a hidden pain in those soulful dark eyes of his. Like the nosy gal that I am, I couldn't help but pry.

"What drives a man from London to move to Ottawa for school?" I asked, and Jabir hesitated. I realized I'd dabbled into sensitive territory, always a mistake when you're meeting a guy for the first time, but I could care less. Jabir and I were walking past the library, heartbeats from the Loeb Building, and I'd gone and messed up a good thing by asking the wrong question.

"I was born in London but I've never felt like I belonged there, the people are uptight and racist, at least in Ottawa we've got all kinds of ethnic groups here so I'm just another face in the crowd," Jabir said, and there was a raw, haunted look on his handsome face. Pursing his lips, Jabir smiled and the gloomy look vanished like ice in the sun, replaced by that movie-star grin.

"Well, thank you for showing me the way, Jabir, and I kind of know how you feel, I'm from Turkey," I said, and for reasons I couldn't explain, I gently touched Jabir's arm, and I swear he blushed. Nodding, Jabir wished me a good day and hastily walked away. I stood there, watching his cute derriere in them blue jeans and silently swore to myself that he'd be mine.

"Stop teasing me," Jabir pleaded, snapping me out of my lustful reverie about the circumstances of our first meeting. Grinning, I stroked his dick and then gently licked his dick head, after gently pulling back on the foreskin. A lot of chicks are turned off by uncut men. Me? I love them. The first guy I ever hooked up with, Ramon, is originally from Mexico and he was all natural. The second guy, Mathieu, was Haitian and also natural. I'm a Muslim woman because, duh, I'm Turkish, and where I come from the lads are all cut. Uncut men fascinate me because they're unusual, exotic and virile to me. No apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I know what I like.

"I'll do what I please," I said, and then I licked the underside of Jabir's shaft and watched as a shudder coursed through his entire body. I laughed, knowing I had him right where I wanted him. I took Jabir into my mouth, and a happy sigh escaped his full, sensuous lips. I gently caressed those big, low-hanging balls of his, knowing it would drive Jabir absolutely nuts, and I was right. The handsome brother's length hardened like a piston in my mouth, and I greedily sucked on his noble tool.

"Woman, you're killing me," Jabir said, moaning as I sucked him until he came. I tasted the first droplets of his essence, as they say, and loved them. No two men smell or taste the same down below. I like the way Jabir smells and tastes. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and winked at Jabir, who smiled hungrily at me, clearly wanting more.

"Killing you softly is my intent," I said, as I straddled Jabir, teasing him by rubbing my already wet pussy against his dick. Instantly Jabir hardened, and I marveled at his gorgeous physique. Jabir is a beautiful blend of west African and white Canadian. Like me, he grew up in Ontario and was raised Muslim, but he has a largely secular outlook on things. That appeals to me because deeply religious dudes with their neurotic, outdated views on sex and women's bodies irk me. Fellas, us ladies will fuck you if we want to, but don't you dare judge us for it.

"What a way to go, my lovely," Jabir whispers hotly, his eyes boring into mine, and a thrill runs down my spine. Grinning, I take his face in my hands and kiss them. Though Jabir remains bound to the bed, he rises to meet me...in every way. I can feel his dick harden underneath me. Happily I spread my thighs further, and reach for his manhood. Just like that, I put him in me. Right in my sweet spot.

"Shut up and fuck me," I say in a hoarse voice which I barely recognize as my own. All this kinky stuff and the bondage thing have made me really horny. I'm a fairly open-minded woman when it comes to sex, but Jabir is the one who turned me onto this kinky stuff. Thanks to him, I am exploring new things and discovering my inner dominatrix. Believe me, it's a lot of fun.

"As you wish," Jabir says, and he thrusts into me, making me cry out as I feel his hard dick stabbing my cunt. As Jabir fucks me, I go into beast mode, gritting my teeth, grabbing him by the throat and urging him to go harder. Laughing, Jabir rises to the challenge, pumping his dick into my pussy, tearing it up, and I love it. I ride him hard, loving the deliciously hot pain I feel inside and the wicked pleasure that I derive from it as we fuck or make love, whatever you want to call it.

"What am I going to do with you?" Jabir whispers, much later, as we lie in bed together. The brother from London, Ontario, just fucked me till sexual exhaustion, and that's quite a feat, let me tell you. I look into his eyes and smile, for in that moment, I am the happiest woman on the face of the earth. I'm not the romantic type or anything. I'm much too unpredictable, experimental and crazy for that, but if I could love someone, it would be Jabir.

The similarities in our backgrounds is almost frightening. Jabir's father Mamadou Akwasi hails from Ghana and met his mother Jennifer Haley at the University of Toronto in the 1990s. They met as students, fell in love, graduated, got married and had the hunk of a man who now lies next to me. I never knew my mother, Meryem Bölükbaşi, for she died giving birth to me in the City of Samsun, northern Turkey, but my father Ahmet Bölükbaşi often speaks of her to this day.

My father has met Jabir and thinks he's a nice young man, but he did jokingly warn Jabir that if he hurt me he's a dead man. That's my Papa, fiercely protective of his only daughter. He is an adjunct professor at the University of Ottawa and works in real estate here in Ottawa. Jabir's folks are both contract instructors at the University of Western Ontario. I met them last summer and they're really nice people. Yeah, almost seems like Jabir and I were made for each other. Only time will tell. I'm not rushing things. What's wrong with enjoying life as it is now instead of worrying about the future? Yeah, that's what I thought. Goodnight.