0 comments/ 17663 views/ 3 favorites Black Man Marries Arab Woman By: Samuelx My name is Charleston Winston. I'm a young Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. Some call me an adventurer just because of how I live my life. I'm not doing anything wrong the way I see it. I recently transferred to Ottawa's very own Carleton University from Hartford University in metropolitan Hartford, Connecticut. My parents Oliver and Martha Winston got tired of my living at home and sent me to study abroad because they wanted to breathe. I got sent to cold-ass Canada, which makes New England look like Florida comes winter time. It's not easy being an African-American in the Capital of Canada but I'm dealing. Got to make the best of a tough situation, you know? Right now, I'm lying in bed with my girlfriend Fathiyah Al-Fatah, a young Arab woman whom I began dating in September 2011. She's originally from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia but has lived in the province of Ontario, Canada, for most of her life. Fathiyah is a business administration major at Carleton University, a fact that doesn't sit right with her father Abdullah Al-Fatah, a wealthy and powerful Saudi businessman who frequently rubs elbows with the Canadian social and political elite in the major cities of Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal and Calgary. I admit that I was initially nervous about dating a young Arab woman. I don't mean to sound stereotypical but I hear that Arab guys are really controlling, that they don't respect women and they consider honor killings justified. Hell, there's a case in front of the Ontario legislature right now about an Arab guy, his wife and son who conspired to kill some of their family members. Man, it's a scary world we live in. Seriously. I hate to say it but Middle-Eastern guys are quite backwards in the way they treat women. Some young American and Canadian women delude themselves into thinking Arab guys believe in gender equality. According to my Fathiyah, that's a total lie. In all mosques, the Muslim guys tell the Muslim women to pray in the back rooms because the presence of women isn't considered acceptable to Muslim men when they're praying. Fathiyah told me many disturbing things about the way the men of her faith treat women. Apparently, in Saudi Arabia women aren't allowed to drive and a woman needs to be accompanied by a male relative every time she leaves the house. Apparently, women in the Kingdom need their sons permission to do basically anything at all in the absence of their husbands. According to Fathiyah, Arab guys firmly believe that women are their property. In pretty much the same way that the belt on my pants is my property. That's how these guys view women. And they're not going to change their mindset even if they live in Europe, America, Canada, Australia or New Zealand. Women in the Western world delude themselves into thinking that men from the Muslim world can change their barbaric and sexist ways. According to Fathiyah, that's never going to happen. Islam isn't compatible with liberal democracy or gender equality, according to Fathiyah. My girlfriend tells me she pities Western women who actually believe the lies Arab guys tell about being moderate. Wow. I was stunned when she began revealing those things to me. Fathiyah is different from the other Muslim women I see walking around Carleton University. Yes, she sometimes wears the hijab and yes, like most of them, she's soft-spoken and reserved. However, that's where the similarities end. My lady has a mind of her own. She firmly believes in gender equality. That's the reason she and her father as estranged. She assured me that if he were to find out she'd been dating any man, for any reason, he would have a fit. She also told me, with a cold fire in her eyes, that she would not hesitate to call the Ottawa Police Service and have her father arrested if he ever threatened her with harm to restore his so-called honor. Fathiyah has a mind of her own, and wants to live her life by her own rules. She doesn't want to be the virtual slave of some Arab guy just because the outdated teachings of Mohammed say so. She lives in Canada, where a woman can be anything she wants to be. Fathiyah wants to become a high-ranking businesswoman someday. When I ask her if she will only marry a Muslim guy, she told me that she will choose the man she marries based on how he makes her feel, not his religion. I was satisfied with that answer. I have grown really fond of this lovely Saudi Arabian woman. She's so lovely. Five feet eleven inches tall, slim and fit, with long Black hair, dark bronze skin and pale brown eyes. The first time I saw Fathiyah letting her hair down ( she mainly wears the hijab on holidays ) I was mesmerized. Saudi Arabian women are uniquely beautiful. Of course, Saudi Arabian men know that. Must be why they demand that Saudi Arabian women be veiled at all times. Fathiyah is a traffic-stopping beauty, folks. I still remember the first time I saw her. I was riding the number four bus heading downtown from Carleton University. It was a Friday night and the bus was packed with beautiful young women from schools like Algonquin College, La Cite Collegiale, Ottawa University and Carleton University. Lovely gals of all shades. Gorgeous young Black women. Curvy, blonde-haired and blue-eyed European beauties. Hot and bothered Hispanic gals. Cute and feisty Asian ladies. And every man drooling over them. I was in the bus with my buddy Jake, a red-haired white guy from the City of Melbourne in Australia, and of course my main man Arnold, a burly Jamaican guy from Toronto, Ontario. We were all headed to Lobby Night Club in downtown Ottawa. I was flirting with this cute Black chick named Miranda and she wasn't too responsive. My buddy Jake was making fun of me as he locked lips with Kyra Lee, a short Chinese chick. I wasn't having the best of nights since Miranda told me to get lost and everybody on the bus was laughing at me. Shortly before we got downtown, a tall, pretty lady entered the bus. She was an Arab gal, conservatively dressed, with a modest hijab. And she was also the most beautiful woman on the bus. Upon seeing her, all the other girls started rolling their eyes and pursing their lips. Classic female behavior indicating jealousy over another gal's beauty. If she noticed the effect she had on both men and women, the Arab gal didn't seem to mind or care. She sat down and began reading a book. When the bus stopped at the Rideau Shopping Center in downtown Ottawa, I looked at the Arab gal as she got off. Even though she was slim and athletic, she had one hell of a booty that her long traditional dress couldn't hide. Hot damn! Wow. As my friends and I walked to the club, I found myself thinking about that gal a lot! The next time I ran into her was inside the Carleton University library. I needed help with my Psychology 1002 class ( which I was in danger of failing due to a crappy midterm) and the academic help center assigned me a tutor. As luck would have it, that tutor was none other than Fathiyah Al-Fatah. Wow. I was nervous as hell when she approached me. I was really surprised when she shook my hand as she introduced herself. In my experience with Muslim women who wore the hijab, they weren't big on shaking hands with men. Also, while tutoring me, she excused herself for twenty minutes and came back after lunchtime. I figured she'd gone home to pray, but Fathiyah told me she went home to take care of Abdul. I thought Abdul was her husband, or her grandpa or something but as it turns out, Abdul was her dog. Wait a minute? Fathiyah is a Muslim woman and she has a dog! In my experience with people from the Arab world, and Muslims in general, they consider dogs to be haram, meaning unclean. Well, Fathiyah surprised me by showing me pictures of herself walking her dog Abdul, a large Doberman with big balls. My gaze lingered over the picture, not because of her dog but because of how hot she looked in skin tight jeans. Wow. Yeah, after that first meeting I was smitten with Fathiyah Al-Fatah. We became friends, and I learned a bit more about her. Her father Abdullah Al-Fatah is one of the biggest realtors in the Province of Ontario. He's a multi-millionaire. Also, he deals in real estate in the City of Atlanta, Georgia as well as in the City of Galway, Ireland. The guy has business holdings in Europe, America and Canada. Wow. Fathiyah told me she wanted to follow in his footsteps but he was really traditional and wanted to have her marry some sheikh from Saudi Arabia before her twenty-first birthday. Twenty-year-old Fathiyah Al-Fatah had no desire to be anybody's wife. She wanted to get her bachelor's degree in business administration from Carleton University and then head to McGill University in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to get her MBA. The gal has smarts, ambition and good looks. What's she doing with a guy like me again? The dictionary definition of slacker says "look up Charleston Winston". Folks, I fell in love with Fathiyah Al-Fatah. I gathered my courage and asked her out, and to my immense surprise she not only said yes, but she kissed me on the spot! Everybody stared as the tall, beautiful, hijab-wearing Saudi gal kissed me, a Black guy from America, inside the campus library. Fathiyah and I became an item. Guys, I worship the ground she walks on. She's a goddess in my eyes. We haven't had sex yet. To be honest, it's not because she doesn't want to. Fathiyah likes to grab my ass and pinch my nipples in public. I'm discovering that Muslim women are sexually aggressive! Honestly, I love this young Arab woman and I don't want to fuck things up. I've gone out with hot white chicks who sucked my dick and made me lick their pussy on the first date. I've also banged some hot Black chicks within hours of meeting them. I don't want to do that with Fathiyah. I love her. Although I was raised as an atheist, I'm willing to convert to Islam just to marry her. Fathiyah doesn't want me to convert. She doesn't like the men of her faith and thinks they would corrupt my liberal mindset if I were exposed to them. I told her that I love her and she told me that she loves me. And in spite of my resolve, last night we had sex. I'm sorry, I meant that we made love. I can't tell you how wonderful it felt to finally make love to my Fathiyah. To kiss her lips. To feel her skin against mine. To suck her tits and hear her moan in pleasure. Ah, the sweet taste of her pussy as I gently spread her legs and began licking her like my life depended on it. The firmness of her big butt in my hands as I squeezed it gently. The passion we felt as she climbed on top of me and inserted my hard, uncircumcised penis into her womanhood. Our screams of pleasure as we drank each other in. Man, waking up in her arms is a feeling I cannot describe. Everything felt right. Everything just fell into place. I belonged at last. Fathiyah grinned at me, kissed me tenderly and told me she had to go feed Abdul, the dog. I watched her heart-shaped butt as got up from the bed, naked, and walked to the kitchen. Arab women are goddesses! How can Arab men refuse them anything? Lovely as Fathiyah is, she could say two plus two equaled five and I would say hell yeah! I looked at the ceiling and smiled. I was content at last. God, I thank you for everything. I found my future wife! Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 02 If somebody told me a year ago that I would find myself in this position, I would have laughed my ass off and said no. What do I mean? Please allow me to clarify. My name is Fathiyah Al-Fatah. I'm a student at Ottawa's very own Carleton University, majoring in business administration. I was born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia but raised in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario. I feel torn right now. All because of my love for a man. A young African-American man from the City of Hartford, Connecticut, named Charleston Winston. How we met is a funny story. I was volunteering for the school's academic help center and they assigned me this Black American guy who was having trouble with his psychology course. At first, I found him cocksure and arrogant, like a typical American. Little did I know we would end up falling in love. Now, because of my love for him, my heart is torn, and my life is in danger. For my father, Abdullah Al-Fatah, international real estate mogul, somehow got wind of the fact that I was dating an infidel. A lot of people think that everything is hunky dory in the Muslim world, as far as how different types of Muslims treat each other. That couldn't be further from the truth. My good friend Fatuma Loudahi, a beautiful young Arab woman from the Republic of Algeria, got in trouble over her affections for Abdirahman Tabaan, a handsome young Somali student she met at the University of Toronto. As luck would have it, Fatuma's parents disowned her. You might wonder what the big deal was since both Fatuma and Abdirahman are Muslims. Somalia and Algeria are both Muslim countries. Yet there is racism on both sides. Arab guys walk around preaching that they don't care about skin colour, only religion and morality. Total bullshit! Arab guys don't like seeing Black Muslim men walking around with Arab women. Yet those same Arab guys frequently sleep with Black women. If that's not a double standard, I don't know what is. Last I heard from Fatuma, she and Abdirahman were living together in the Toronto suburb of Ajax, and raising their daughter Amal together. I really sympathized with Abdirahman and Fatuma, I really did. However, I was dreadfully scared the same thing would happen to me. Growing up in Toronto, Ontario, I was exposed to a diversity of cultures. I had plenty of Black female Muslim friends from places like Somaliland, Djibouti, Eritrea and so on. My father didn't mind my associating with Black Muslim girls but he got nervous when I befriended a Black Muslim guy named Ahmed, from Ethiopia. See? There is a lot of racism in the Muslim world. Americans and Europeans think all Muslims are alike. Black Muslims and Arab Muslims don't all hold hands and sing together. There are fierce rivalries between Saudis and Libyans, Algerians and Egyptians, and so on. As far as the social echelon of the Muslim world, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and Jordan rank the highest, and the Black Muslim nations such as Somaliland, Senegal and Djibouti rank the lowest. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is viewed as the birthplace of Islam by Muslims of all colours worldwide. The strict social and moral codes of Islam practiced in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia are viewed as what Islam is all about, as far as gender relations. Of course, the Arab leaders don't advertise this. They preach equality among the Faithful, and privately they make fun of Black Muslims. I've heard the negative crap about Black Muslims from Arab men my whole life. I never bought into it because my Somali girlfriends and their brothers, fathers and cousins were among the nicest people I knew. Black Muslims are more supportive of equality between the sexes than the most liberal of all Arab leaders. Trust me on that one. In Somaliland, women can own property, drive around in cars, and even own businesses. All these simple things which women in the United States of America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand take for granted are things that us Saudi women living inside the Kingdom can only dream of. Saudi women are slaves in the eyes of Saudi men. Anyone who disagrees is a bold-faced liar. I have always had strong beliefs about racial and gender relations, which clashed with my strict Muslim upbringing. Of course, I just had to take the final plunge. Falling in love with a man whom my father would not approve of, which is against the principles of my faith. I didn't tell my beloved Charleston did this, but last night when we made love, it was my first time. I shudder just to think about it. The raw passion my man carries inside of him. How wonderful and powerful his thick, uncircumcised member felt inside of me. How I cursed and screamed in pleasure and pain as he fucked me passionately. Oh, yeah. A lot of what they say about Black men is true. They really are a passionate, virile bunch. Charleston Winston left my body pleasurably sore after hours of passionate lovemaking. And I enjoyed every minute of it. I have to have that man again. Right now, he's in the kitchen, playing with my dog Abdul. I sit on the living room couch, clad in my bra and panties. Watching the news on CBC. For weeks now, the Canadian news system has been dominated by reports on Gadhafi's death in Libya, the rise of Sharia Law in countries supposedly liberated from tyranny during the Arab Spring, and of course the case about that Arab guy and his wife and son who plotted to kill some young Arab ladies. It's a case of an honor killing, and these always inflame the imagination and revulsion of non-Muslims and Muslims alike. They're not discussing anything else in feminist circles at Carleton University and the University of Ottawa. Especially since this case is taking place right here in the Province of Ontario. Most North Americans already think all men from the Middle East are sexist, backwards and prone to violence and terrorism. They're going to throw the book at that old Arab guy, his wife and his son for what they did to those young Arab women. And you know what? I hope they rot in jail for what they did. For my own father, multi-millionaire real estate mogul Abdullah Al-Fatah has sworn my death because someone showed him pictures of Charleston and I kissing. Three hours ago, I went to the Ottawa Police Service station in downtown Ottawa to seek a Restraining Order against my father. Women come to the station seeking restraining orders against men all the time, but it's mainly against abusive boyfriends or mean ex-husbands. The sergeant shot me a look as I explained to her that under Sharia Law, my father was bound to seek my death to avenge his honor because I was in love with a Black man who wasn't a Muslim. And I'm a proud daughter of Saudi Arabia living in Ottawa, Ontario. I snap out of my dark reverie about my circumstances and sharply remind myself to enjoy life. I smile at Charleston Winston as he plays with my dog Abdul. These two love each other. I gesture for Charleston to come to me and he immediately stops what he's doing and comes to me. Just like Abdul would, I thought naughtily. I take Charleston by the hand and lead him to the shower. Time for us to get cleaned up before returning to class. I want to graduate from Carleton University and leave Ontario behind. I want to live in the City of Montreal, Quebec, and study at McGill University. And I want my beloved Charleston with me. If my father or other Muslim men with outdated mindsets can't get their minds around what's going on in the world today, I don't care. I am a Saudi woman. I am a proud Muslim. I don't bow down to Muslim guys who want to dominate me and claim that it's the will of Allah. I want to live my life, love who I want to love and do my own thing. If that makes me an unbeliever, then so be it. It's my life! Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 03 Fathiyah Al-Fatah stood, resplendent in her beautiful white wedding dress, and gazed adoringly at her future husband Charleston Winston. The young Saudi Arabian woman smiled and silently reminded her future mate to steady his nerves. The big and tall young Black man was having an uncharacteristically emotional day inside the Saint Joseph Catholic Church in downtown Hartford, Connecticut. Eight weeks ago, their world changed forever. Fathiyah found out she was pregnant, and her father Abdullah Al-Fatah, the wealthiest Arab businessman in the Confederation of Canada, tried to run her and her boyfriend over with a truck. Miraculously they escaped without harm. Abdullah Al-Fatah was now in police custody in Ottawa, Ontario. Awaiting trial for attempted murder. As for Carleton University sweethearts Fathiyah Al-Fatah and her African-American boyfriend Charleston Winston, it was a sign that life was short and precious. They decided to get married. Charleston Winston and Fathiyah Al-Fatah decided to head to the City of Hartford, Connecticut, the heart of New England. A place where Fathiyah's crazy father and his cronies definitely wouldn't be able to reach them. Fathiyah was thrilled to meet her boyfriend's parents, Hartford City Police Department sergeant Oliver Winston and schoolteacher Martha Jean Winston. The lovely older African-American couple and their friends were thrilled to finally meet the young Saudi-Canadian woman whom their favorite son wouldn't shut up about. Throughout his first semester at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, Charleston wouldn't shut up about Fathiyah Al-Fatah and how absolutely perfect she was. Of course, they were horrified to hear about the extremism of Fathiyah's psychotic father and the absolute sexism and racism which guided his actions as he tried to run down his only daughter and the young African-American she'd fallen in love with. Luckily, Abdullah Al-Fatah was in police custody but he was a legend to the Arab community of Canada. They would definitely try to carry out his orders to take out his daughter. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police was taking the incident pretty seriously because they just about had it with psychotic Arab guys killing young women in the name of their vengeful God and their outdated honour system. And so here they were. Standing before Father James O'Connor, a distinguished old Irishman, inside the most prominent Catholic church of Hartford. Prior to giving into atheistic beliefs, Charleston Winston's parents Oliver and Martha were lapsed Catholics. Fathiyah Al-Fatah told them that after her father attempted to murder her because of his radical Islamic beliefs in justified honour killings, she no longer felt like subscribing to the tenets of the Muslim faith. She could no longer bow her head and believe in a God whose followers treated women like slaves, and believed in killing anyone who believed differently from them. Fathiyah told Charleston and his parents that in that nearly fatal instant when her father Abdullah Al-Fatah tried to run them down, she cried out for God to help...and the God she believed answered her prayer was the Christian God, and not Allah. Inspired by the faith of this beautiful, brave young Saudi woman who loved their son enough to risk her life, the old African-American couple attended church for the first time in two decades. And they took their son and his girlfriend with them. For weeks, Charleston and Fathiyah stayed at his family home in Hartford. However, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police contacted them through their FBI allies and requested them to return to Ottawa, Ontario, to testify in the trial of Abdullah Al-Fatah, multi-millionaire Arab businessman and attempted murder suspect. Charleston Winston and Fathiyah Al-Fatah were understandably nervous about returning to Canada. Fathiyah knew the extent of her father's wealth and power. She knew that he had many people working for him. And when she appeared in court to testify against him, her actions were condemned by Muslim men and Muslim women throughout the City of Ottawa and the rest of the Province of Ontario itself. Canada's secular and forward-thinking men and women were stunned to discover that their Muslim friends and neighbors for the most part disapproved of a Muslim woman who would testify against her father for trying to kill her. They felt that honour killings were justified. Canadian feminists were stunned to discover that the Arab women, Somali women and Djibouti women they thought they knew actually approved of the notion of honour killings. The case caused a severe ripple through the multiculturalism façade behind which so many Canadian minds slept peacefully. In the end, Abdullah Al-Fatah was found guilty of attempted murder, and since he was such a high-profile member of the Arab community of North America and Europe, the Ottawa Criminal Court threw the book at him. He was sentenced to twenty years in prison at the Kingston Correctional Facility in the City of Kingston, Ontario. Abdullah Al-Fatah remained defiant during the trial, calling his daughter an infidel whore and comparing her African-American boyfriend to a Neanderthal. He swore that one of his faithful followers would 'take them out'. When the Judge ordered him to shut up, he called her an infidel whore as well and said that women shouldn't be allowed to be judges. Those inflammatory comments did not endear him to the mostly Caucasian and mostly female jury which presided over his fate. They saw that underneath the veneer of a successful businessman, dedicated philanthropist and proud member of the community hid a vile, racist, sexist and ultimately evil man whose mindset was stuck in the past. The old-school, sexist and intolerant Arab guy in his modern disguise. They threw the book at him alright. As for Fathiyah Al-Fatah and her boyfriend Charleston Winston, they were the talk of the town on CNN, CBC and whatnot. Talk of honour killings by Muslims always captivate western audiences. They declined any and all interviews, and chose to quietly move on with their lives. Fathiyah Al-Fatah and Charleston Winston had some decisions to make. After what Abdullah had done, they knew they couldn't live in Canada. There were lots of Muslim students at Carleton University and many of them thought along the same lines as Fathiyah's father, a fact the young Saudi woman knew. She wouldn't be safe in Ottawa, Ontario, anymore. She would have to scrap her plans to graduate from Carleton University and attend McGill University's business school. Charleston told her that he'd be happy to study with her at Hartford University in his quaint New England hometown. And he also asked her to marry him. Fathiyah said yes on all counts. Which brought them here, inside the Saint Joseph Catholic Church. Fathiyah smiled at Charleston, and they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Everyone cheered the new husband and wife as they said their vows. Thus, they would begin a new life together. In January 2012, Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston would begin her studies in the MBA program of Hartford University, alongside her husband. A passionate, fun-filled and adventurous life awaited them both. Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 04 I shudder as I feel Charleston Winston's dick slide into my backdoor. I can't believe I let him talk me into this. It's sick, it's dirty and oh so naughty. By Allah, I mean, by God I'm loving it! My name is Fathiyah Al-Fatah. A tall, slim and curvy young woman of Saudi Arabian descent living in the beautiful City of Hartford, in the State of Connecticut. Right now, I'm getting fucked in the ass by my gorgeous African-American boyfriend Charleston Winston and it feels oh so good. It's our wedding night, and his parents were generous enough to loan us their cottage in the outskirts of metropolitan Hartford. Oh, man. It feels awkward, but really good at the same time. Charleston groans and holds my hips tightly as he works his dick into my backdoor. He kisses my cheeks gently and whispers into my ear that he absolutely loves me for making his fantasy come true. I nod, and grit my teeth as he probes my ass deeply with his magic stick. I feel my ass natural tightness give way as he pounds his way inside of me. I feel my pussy getting wet as my husband begins fucking my ass with powerful thrusts of his almighty Black cock. Why did I agree to this again? Oh, yeah. I'm horny...and I'm in love with this man. For him I walked out on my family, my religion and my culture. Love is sacrifice, I guess. I went from a Saudi-born Canadian citizen, practicing Muslim and Carleton University business student to a permanent resident of America, newly married and newly converted to Christianity. Historically, non-Black women who love Black men have often clashed with the social order as well as their own families. And my union with Charleston Winston was no different. My father Abdullah Al-Fatah, a wealthy and powerful Real Estate mogul back in Canada, staunchly opposed us getting together. To the point of trying to murder us in a so-called honor killing. Thankfully, we got away unscathed. Now he' s languishing in the Kingston Correctional Facility in the City of Kingston, Province of Ontario. Sentenced to twenty years in prison for attempting to murder Charleston and I for loving each other. Yeah, we went through all that. Now we're happily married, and fucking like sex is going out of style. All the while I hope my bigoted father is enjoying prison sex from the roughnecks inside Kingston's Prison system. It's what the bastard deserves! Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes. I was getting fucked in the ass by my husband. I push back against Charleston as he fucks me, grinding my ass against his groin and driving his dick deeper inside my asshole. I'm really enjoying this now. Charleston caresses my big butt and gently spanks it as he fucks me. His cock feels really good in my asshole. Much better than I thought it would feel. Ever since we started sleeping together, Charleston has had designs on my butt. I can't really blame him because I've got a Grade-A Saudi butt. The kind you simply don't see anywhere else. Yes, Arab women got booty and I am proudly serving mine up to my gorgeous and well-endowed African-American husband. Charleston Winston asks me to change positions and I do it happily. I am now lying on my back as he slides his cock right back into my asshole. In this position, I can look into my sexy husband's eyes as he fucks me. I've got my long, smooth and sexy legs in the air, resting on his broad shoulders. Charleston Winston murmurs words of love to me, his darling wife, as his cock probes ever more deeply into my asshole. At first I felt a slight pain as his cock burrowed into my shit hole. I was nervous the whole time. Nervous I might have an accident. Nervous that it might hurt. There's no avoiding it, anal sex can get messy. Well, Charleston assured me that I was in good hands and I trust this man with my life. Before trying booty sex for the first time, we took preparations. I have a bowel movement, and also showered. I spent half an hour thoroughly washing my asshole with soap and water. Then my gorgeous husband kissed my big round ass and began applying lotion all over my asshole. At last, I was ready to get fucked in the ass. Which is why we're having so much fun right now. Gently I rub my pussy lips. While it felt a bit painful at first, I'm starting to actually enjoy the feel of Charleston's dick in my asshole. It's a feeling of fullness. A wonderful feeling, actually. Like a bottle getting corked before going on the shelf. I reached upward and played with my husband's chest hairs as he fucked me. I playfully tugged at them and he winced in pain. I laughed, and played with his nipples. In response, he began fucking my ass really roughly. Just pounding away at me like a frigging battering ram. Now, don't get me wrong. I really didn't mind the intensity but I wondered where his sudden gusto came from. I asked him and he told me he wanted to punish my sweet Saudi ass for being so damn tempting. Well, I decided to play along. I told him I enjoyed tormenting him by parading my sexy and untouchable ass in front of him for ages and ages. Charleston laughed and slammed his cock into the forbidden depths of my asshole. I told him to fuck me really roughly and not to hold back. Grinning maliciously, my husband went to town on me. He plunged his big Black cock so deep into my asshole I'm surprised it didn't come out of my mouth. I lay there, drooling and getting drilled by my man. I loved it. Charleston Winston pulled my hair, gently smacked my face and fucked me roughly. I squealed in delight as Charleston finally erupted inside of me, flooding my asshole with his cum. Charleston wrapped his arms gently around me and kissed me. I kissed my husband passionately and thanked him for a wonderful time. I know some of you reading this story will shake your head. I used to be a Muslim. As a Saudi Arabian woman, I felt oppressed by the patriarchal culture of Islam omnipresent where I grew up. I felt hated simply because of my femininity. My father, a racist and sexist Arab businessman tried to kill me, then a Muslim woman, for loving an African-American man who happened to be a lapsed Christian. Now my father is in jail for an attempted honor killing. I am happily married to a gorgeous Black man. We're both students at Hartford University in Connecticut. We can't go to Carleton University anymore. Too many misguided bigots there who agree with my father's viewpoint. I am happy at last. And free. Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 05 Hey, there. The name is Charleston Winston. A tall young Black man living in the City of Hartford, Connecticut. I am a student at Hartford University, and I am happily married to Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston, a beautiful young Arab woman whom I met at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. My lady converted to Christianity from Islam in order to marry me. Her family is still mad as hell and they want us dead. Her father is currently incarcerated at Kingston Penitentiary in the City of Kingston, Province of Ontario. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police busted him for an attempted honor killing. He wanted to run Fathiyah Al-Fatah and me down with his overpriced car after finding out we were together. What a crazy lunatic! Anyhow, we're happily married and life couldn't be better. I thank God for His blessings. Fathiyah and I got married inside a Catholic church in downtown Hartford, Connecticut. I applied for her to become a permanent resident of the United States of America. My gorgeous Saudi Arabian wife who left the religion of Islam and her own family to be with me. I honestly respect all religions, but it seems to me that Islam has ten thousand rules that Muslim women have to follow and only one rule for Muslim men. Basically, a Muslim woman has to do everything a Muslim man tells her except leaving Islam. What a load of crock. I can't believe there are intelligent women falling for this. Muslim men claim to be enlightened but they're very racist. I'm pretty sure Fathiyah's father was more incensed by the fact that a Black man was dating his Arab daughter than by the fact that I am not Muslim. Let me clarify things a bit for you, ladies and gentlemen. I've got Somali Muslim friends back in Ottawa. My Somali friend Abdirahman told me that the last time he tried dating a Tunisian Muslim lady, her father also got really mad and they eventually split up. Now, since both Abdirahman and his lady friend are Muslims, what's the problem? Racism. Yep, has to be racism I tell you. Non-Black men are always mad when they see their non-Black daughters with Black guys. In that regard, a deeply religious Muslim father from Saudi Arabia is just as bigoted as a redneck White guy from Texas who squirms at the thought of his blonde-haired daughter dating a Black male. Racism will never go away. White guys from Christian, Jewish and atheist backgrounds fear Black men and so do Muslim guys from the Arab world. They hide their racism behind religion and culture, but I saw right through it and by the Grace of God so did Fathiyah. All men who aren't Black seem genetically designed to hate and fear the Black man. We're so much more masculine than they are, and they know it. The thing is women worldwide know it too. That's why they hate us. They're afraid. Anyhow, I'm done ranting. Let's speak of happier topics, eh? My friends, I know I might sound like a sucker for saying this but I love my Fathiyah more than life itself. My tall, bronze-skinned and Black-haired Arabian goddess means more to me than I can ever say. I am nothing without the woman I love. I'm not just saying this because I am a recently married man. A lot of married guys around the world seem to hate their wives. And a lot of wives around the world hate their husbands. I pray to God Almighty that my Fathiyah and I don't end up like that. Seriously. I can't think of anything worse. For real. Right now, my lady is at school. And I'm at home, cooking dinner. I'm a big and tall Black man built like a football player wearing a damn apron and cooking dinner for his woman. And yes, I am one hundred percent man. If you call me a sissy or whipped, I can kick your ass. You feel me? Cool. Anyhow, I'm whipping up a surprise for my Fathiyah. I am preparing a New England Clam Chowder. It's a tasty little dish. A bark distracts me and I almost burn myself. Damn. It's Adbul, the big Doberman whom my Fathiyah was walking around with when we first met. I've grown to love the damn mutt. It's weird, eh? Oh, man. I'm still saying eh, even months after moving back to my home State of Connecticut from the Province of Ontario, Canada. Anyhow, Abdul the Doberman and I have forged a grudging friendship for the sake of our mutual love for Fathiyah. The bastard does nothing but sit on his ass all day, licking his balls. Alright, fine. I sometimes envy him. Not because he's got the amazing ability to lick his own balls ( which is pretty cool ) but because he was my Fathiyah's first love. Long before she defied her people's customs and her own family by loving me, she loved this dog enough to defy the taboos of Islam by taking him from a kennel and bringing him home. Yeah, long before she met little old me, that ball of fur was dear to her heart. How about that? Man, I never thought making New England Clam Chowder could be so damn difficult. Fathiyah Al-Fatah knows next to nothing about sea food. I'm trying to introduce her to it the right way. My mom taught me how to make this tasty little dish but I haven't made it in so long. Let's see if I remember the damn recipe. I've got five slices of bacon. Two cups of chopped onion. Two cups of water. Two teaspoons of salt. Two tablespoons of butter. Three ten-ounce cans of minced clams. Oh, and let's not forget the Black pepper neatly ground to taste. Yeah, I don't think I forgot anything. I take a little bit with the spoon just to taste it. It tastes okay but could be better. Nothing but the best for my lady, you know? Yep, I'm going to redo it. I feed Abdul his third clam chowder for the day. All of my mother unsuccessful culinary attempts ended up in the Doberman's belly. Do over. Ugh. I smile to myself. This is definitely a labor of love. I finally get the New England Clam Chowder right. And not a moment too soon. I get a text message from my Fathiyah on my Blackberry. She's coming home in twenty minutes. Oh, shoot. I rush into the bathroom, shower and then get ready. I hear Fathiyah inserting her key into the lock...and I greet her in a bright red T-shirt and blue jeans. Fathiyah looks me up and down, then smiles. I kiss her tenderly on the lips. We kiss passionately, and she grabs my ass. We go inside, and she stops. Fathiyah sniffs the air, and asks me what she's smelling. I smile and lead her to the kitchen. I've got everything set up. Time for my beloved wife to experience some traditional New England cooking. Fathiyah gasps when she sees everything I've got set up. New England Johnny Cakes. Orange juice. Soft boiled eggs. Buttered bread. Sounds delicious, huh? Fathiyah practically gushed with happiness when she saw what I prepared for both of us. Seeing that look of happiness on her beautiful face was definitely worth all the culinary hell I went through for the past few hours. I pull a chair for her, and then we sit down to eat. Just another day in the life of a happily married young couple. I love my Fathiyah, and I thank God for His blessings. Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 06 Saturday morning. Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston finally woke up. The tall, beautiful young woman stretched luxuriantly on the king-sized bed next to her beloved husband Charleston Winston. Gently she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Next to her, a handsome young Black man lay fast asleep. Snoring louder than hell. Fathiyah smiled to herself, and gently kissed her sleeping husband on the lips. She got up and went to the bathroom. Outside, it was a bright sunny day in metropolitan Hartford, in the State of Connecticut. Uncharacteristic of New England winters, as she's come to understand. Fathiyah went downstairs to make breakfast. Instantly she was greeted by Abdul, the large Doberman she'd had since she lived in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Back when she was a student at Carleton University, falling head over heels for a young African-American whom she simply couldn't resist. Yeah, it all seemed like a lifetime ago. Hard to believe that it had only been six months. Six months since she walked out on her old life forever. Fathiyah had undergone so many changes. For starters, she was no longer Muslim. She had become what her people called an Apostate. One of the unbelievers. She walked away from Islam for the love of an American who happened to be a Christian. Her people had forsaken her. Her name was synonymous with a curse among Saudi Arabians living in Canada and back inside the Kingdom. Wow. Walking away from a life of privilege as the daughter of one of Saudi Arabia's wealthiest businessmen to the life of a Christian wife. Fathiyah knew next to nothing about Christianity. She grew up hearing her relatives and friends refer to Christians and Jews as Infidels or Unbelievers. Muslim women were forbidden from marrying Christian men or Jewish men but Muslim men could marry women from the Christian and Jewish communities. Another example of a sexist double standard signed, sealed and delivered by Allah Himself to the Prophet Muhammad. In her short time as a Christian, Fathiyah Al-Fatah had been amazed to discover how much freedom and respect Christianity afforded women. Christians worldwide praised Mary as the Holy Mother of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. They built statues and shrines to her across the globe. In Islam, statues were forbidden. Idolaters are punished severely by conservative Islamists. Christians saw nothing wrong with building statues representing not only their Lord Jesus Christ but also his Holy Mother, the Archangels and Angels and even the Saints themselves. In Christianity, women could wear whatever they wanted. And they could marry whoever they wanted. In Islam, both the choice of attire and the choice of spouse was left in the hands of men. Women in Islam exerted very little control over their own lives. They were property, pure and simple. First the property of their fathers and brothers, then that of their husbands and sons. Freedom for women did not exist in Islam. Of course, a lot of Muslim women living in North America and Europe would vehemently disagree. And a lot of foolish westerners actually believe their lies. Fathiyah Winston ( nee Al-Fatah ) was a daughter of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. A land where women couldn't drive, or even walk down the street without being accompanied by a male relative. Those White women like Texas-born American photographer Nicole Queen who converted to Islam had never lived in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia so they didn't really know the true meaning of Islam. Or the true nature of Muslim men. Islam was all about control and submission. The control went to the men, and submission was expected of women. This was Islam at its purest. Sharia Law. American and European women didn't know the true meaning of Sharia Law. Something Fathiyah Al-Fatah understood all too well. Especially on the day when she burned her hijab ( something she never told her husband Charleston) and walked away from it all. For a moment, Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston stood alone in the kitchen. Even after converting to Christianity from Islam, she was still struggling with certain things. Habits learned over a lifetime were hard to let go of. Like praying five times a day, which she still did. Now she prayed to God, Jesus and Mary, instead of Allah. Sometimes she missed a prayer, but forgave herself because the God of Christians and Jews was a God of Mercy and Forgiveness while Allah was a vengeful deity. How many times had she read the words "kill the Infidel" in numerous passages of the Koran? Yeah. Whenever she went to church with Charleston, she couldn't imagine ever going back to a Mosque. Inside a church, men and women sat side by side, praying together. That did NOT happen inside a Mosque. Inside a Mosque, the men prayed at the front, listening to the words of the Imam as he preached. The women were relegated to a room in the back because they were considered a distraction. By sharp contrast, Christian men had no problem praying among women. Even more astonishing to Fathiyah as an ex-Muslim is the fact that many denominations of Christianity actually allowed FEMALE PREACHERS. Fathiyah smiled at that. The men of the Muslim world would start World War Three rather than allow women to become Imams inside the Mosques. They were that narrow-minded, sexist and inflexible. It was all about power and control with them at the end of the day. Of course, many erstwhile Christian men had the same wickedness but they couldn't fall back on scripture to justify their mistreatment of women...Muslim men could and did use the Koran to justify their treatment of women. That was life under Sharia Law. That's why an evil Muslim guy named Mohammed Shafia, along with his wife and son were currently on trial in the Criminal Court of Ontario for an honor killing. They killed their female relatives simply because the Muslim patriarch did not approve of the young women's relationships with certain young men whom they met at school. Fathiyah smiled as she made a large omelet with eight eggs, and threw strips of bacon ( with gloves on ) to Adul. The Doberman eagerly devoured the meat. Fathiyah watched Abdul gulp his meal down and shook her head, smiling. All males liked their meat, it seemed. Fathiyah smiled to herself as she thought of that one. Both Charleston and Abdul, who couldn't stand each other and often vied for her affections, loved meat. Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston was lost in thought that she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary was happening near her...until a pair of strong arms grabbed her and she yelped in surprise. Charleston Winston grinned, and gently kissed his wife's succulent lips. Fathiyah smiled, turned around and kissed him full and deep. Luckily she had just turned off the stove because cooking was the last thing on her mind. Charleston looked into his wife's eyes and saw the desire and passion there. And just like that, they began to make love. Fathiyah bit his neck and went straight for his dick. In no time she was kissing a path down his hairy chest toward his groin area. Fathiyah paused with her face inches from Charleston's thick, uncircumcised Black penis. Not too long ago she felt that uncut men were an aberration but now she loved a man with foreskin. Gently she began sucking his cock while fondling his balls. When she flicked her tongue over his dick head, Charleston cried out in pleasure. Fathiyah continued with the sucking, until Charleston warned her that he couldn't take anymore. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. Fathiyah grinned as he nuzzled on her succulent breasts, and began sucking on them. Fathiyah moaned as her husband began making love to her. She wanted him inside of her. Now. So she told him as much. Charleston grinned as Fathiyah took his member and placed it against her pussy. With a swift thrust he entered her. Fathiyah gasped as Charleston thick manhood penetrated her sweet pussy. Even after months of blissful, passionate married life, sometimes his penile thickness and raw masculinity stunned her. He began fucking her with deep, powerful thrusts. Fathiyah wrapped her arms around her husband, craving him and wanting him to go deeper inside of her. Charleston didn't disappoint. Hard and fast he fucked her, just the way she liked it. They ended up on the kitchen floor, with Fathiyah in the doggy style position as Charleston lovingly spanked her ass as he fucked her from behind. Fathiyah cried out in pleasure, both from the deliciously hot pain she felt from Charleston's stinging slaps on her big round butt and his dick inside her. She urged him to fuck her harder, and Charleston did just that. They went at it like this for hours. Until they lay exhausted, their body covered with a mixture of sweat and other juices, on the kitchen floor. Fathiyah Al-Fatah Winston looked at her darling husband Charleston Winston. The handsome young African-American who stole the heart of a prim and proper Saudi Arabian gal living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, and brought her to metropolitan Hartford, Connecticut, to be his lawfully wedded CHRISTIAN wife. The man who changed her world. Charleston took her right hand in his, and brought it to his lips. It was astonishing how much he loved this gal. For her love, he would risk life itself. He couldn't imagine his life without her. His Saudi goddess. His desert queen. The woman he made blush by writing twenty six poems about her beauty and her booty weeks after they met. Oh, yeah. Life couldn't be better with her by his side. And he thanked God for every day that he woke up next to her. Black Man Marries Arab Woman Ch. 07 The life of a Lebanese-born Canadian Christian woman married to a Haitian-American pagan doesn't sound like the easiest existence in the world, does it? My name is Antonia Abdirahman and I was born in the town of Hermel, Republic of Lebanon, and raised in the City of Montreal, Quebec. My family left the Republic of Lebanon in 1977, three years after I was born, due to the Lebanese Civil War. My folks, Muriel and Elias Abdirahman came to the Confederation of Canada as refugees, and although they raised me to be a proud Canadian, I was taught to be mindful ( and proud ) of my Arabian heritage. Never forget where you came from, my father used to say. There are lots of Arab Christians living in Canada today, hailing mainly from Lebanon, Syria and Egypt. As the Islamists whip up anti-Christian sentiment throughout the Arab world, more Arab Christians leave for North America and Europe than ever before. We form huge communities in places like Quebec and Michigan. I went to a High School full of our people in the south side of Montreal. I started the Lebanese Christian Club at Saint Marie Academy. I'm told it's still active to this day. In 1992, at the age of eighteen I enrolled at the University of Montreal to study business administration. While there I met a handsome young man named Joseph Suleiman, the son of multimillionaire realtor and Lebanese Canadian icon Samson Suleiman. We fell in love, with our parents approval, and had a whirlwind romance. It was perfect, at first. We came from the same community, had similar views on many things and attended the same church. Joseph was smart, attentive and charming. And he lavished me with gifts. I thought I had found prince charming. The guy swept me off my feet, and I became the envy of my girlfriends. Unfortunately, he revealed himself to be something else entirely. One day, I caught him in bed with Jacqueline, a Jamaican chick I knew from school. When I saw the love of my life in bed with another woman, it broke my heart. I ran home and cried...for three days. You've got to understand that Joseph was my first in many ways. I lost my virginity to that guy. I guess all that glitters isn't gold, eh? Wish someone had told me that at the time. Life goes on after heartbreak, I guess. I focused on my studies, graduating from the University of Montreal with my bachelor's degree in business in 1996. I later earned my MBA from McGill University in 1999, and began working for Hydro Quebec as an account manager. I stayed at that job for six years, parting ways with the company in 2007. I got laid off due to the Recession. Although I was devastated at the time, I eventually saw this for the opportunity it truly was. In life, everything is either a calamity or an opportunity, depending on how you look at it. I decided to expand my horizons, and instead of trying to rejoin the rat race, I went on vacation. While visiting the island of Saint Lucia for thirteen days of pleasure, I met a tall, handsome young man. Jean-Michel Salomon, a Miami-born Haitian guy who made a living working at the Imperial Hotel as an entertainer. The guy was good-looking, witty and charming but I'd been warned about silver-tongued Caribbean guys who preyed on wealthy, naïve female tourists. I wasn't about to open my heart or my wallet to the likes of him. I made the most of my stay on the island, enjoying myself on the wind-swept beach, trying out some culinary delicacies I'd certainly never heard of and taking in the raw beauty of the island. The men and women of Saint Lucia were very different from the folks of Montreal where I lived. They were friendly, free-spirited and easygoing. In the big cities of Quebec, people are so busily trying to make money that they forget to live. Nothing unusual about that, it's the North American way of life. Get up early, get out there and make money. Always chase money, even if you kill yourself at work before you get a chance to enjoy it. That's how we measure success in Western society. The people of Saint Lucia seemed to have a different mentality altogether. A time to work, a time to pray and a time to play, that's what everyone in Saint Lucia understood. I admired that about them. I've never seen such a happy people. In spite of myself I became curious about their mindset, their outlook on life, and who better to ask than Jean-Michel Salomon, entertainer extraordinaire and island life expert? I approached him one night at the hotel store and asked him a few questions, which led to more questions. Jean-Michel was all smiles as I approached him. He told me he was surprised that I came to him since I'd been cold towards him since my arrival on the island. I'm a reserved person, I said by way of apology. He seemed pleased, then asked me to join him on a tour of the isle. As we walked on the sandy beach, J.M. told me about the island of Saint Lucia's unique history, and spoke passionately about its culture and people. I saw the passion in his eyes, and couldn't help asking him if he was a native. To my immense surprise, J.M. revealed to me that he was born in the City of Miami, Florida, to Haitian immigrant parents. I was shocked, to tell you the truth. Laughing heartily, J.M. pulled his US passport out of his pocket, and showed it to me. I left Miami for Saint Lucia two years ago and I haven't looked back, he told me with a grin. He told me how the Imperial Hotel paid him three thousand dollars U.S. per month as its Director of Entertainment. I keep you tourists happy, he said. Good for you, I said, honestly impressed. This guy is making that kind of money for living on an island paradise. And I'm out of a job when I get back to Montreal. Life is funny, isn't it? J.M. and I got to know each other better as the days went by, and he proved himself most friendly and charming. I confided in him about stuff I'd never told anyone before. I don't know why, I just felt comfortable around him. Jean-Michel could relate to what I was going through, even though we came from different worlds. I sensed that, like me, he was running from something by leaving Florida for Saint Lucia. When I pressed him about it, he revealed a piece of his past to me. A couple of years before we met, J.M. met a young woman named Fatima Osman in Orlando. She was a Somali immigrant. Born into a Catholic family, for her sake he almost converted to Islam. I walked away from the Abrahamic Religions and weird foreign women after Fatima ditched me for an Arab guy named Abdul, J.M. said grimly. I follow the Voodoo faith now, he added firmly. There was a look of such sadness and elemental pain on Jean-Michel's handsome face that I felt moved to touch him on the shoulder. Whoever this Fatima Osman chick was, she hurt him real bad. The poor guy. We all go through hell for love of those who don't deserve us, I told him. He scoffed and wondered aloud what a beautiful, well-to-do woman like me would know of pain. I shook my head, and my grip on his arm hardened. I've had my share of pain, I said defiantly. Without being prompted I told him about Joseph Suleiman, my first love. Our whirlwind romance, his cheating, and how I've been unable to love ever since. When I finished my impassioned spiel, Jean-Michel looked at me silently. I feel your pain, he said simply, and gave me a hug. And for the first time ever, I let go...of all the pain, anger, fear and loneliness I'd been holding onto for ages. I hugged him fiercely, and quietly sobbed. J.M. tenderly held my face in his hands, and told me I was safe with him. No one will hurt you if I can prevent it, he said calmly. That's when I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he and I were meant for each other. There we were, two people who had only known each other for a few days, holding each other and kissing like long-time lovers on the beach. A Haitian-American pagan and a Lebanese Christian woman. Talk about strange bedfellows! Thus it began, my great love affair with Jean-Michel Salomon. When I came back to Montreal, he came with me. We decided to give a relationship a shot. Adjusting to life in Canada as an American national wasn't easy for J.M. but with my help he gave it a shot. He had to apply for things like a work permit and social insurance card. Thankfully, his bachelor's degree in Entertainment Management from Florida State University and his MBA from the University of Central Florida were valid in Canada. He found a job working for the Bank of Montreal as a cleric. Kind of an entry-level position he was overeducated for, but a job's a job. We were married a year after we met, and like every couple that ever lived, we've had our ups and downs. In 2008, twins were born to us, Alexander and Rania, and they have been such a blessing. I'm now right where I was born to be. Living in beautiful Montreal with my husband and our lovely brats, and even though things haven't been easy ( my family wasn't happy about my marrying a Black man, there's a lot of racism in the Arab world ) we have persevered through the difficulties. In this life, none of us know what lies ahead. All we can do is move forward in spite of all the terrible things we've experienced. To do otherwise would be conceding defeat to death and fate. I'm simply not ready to do that. Are you?