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Muslim Bisexuality: My Wife!

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If you want it come and get it, I said, stroking my long and thick Black cock while looking at Amina, my gorgeous new wife. My favorite short, skinny Black Muslim chick looked at me nervously. I’m ready for you, I said with authority. She looked at me with a meek expression on her dark, pretty face. If you don’t do what I tell you, there will be hell to pay, I growled threateningly. Amina nodded and took a deep breath, then she walked up to the bed. I spread my legs, wiggled my big Black dick at her and told her to get to work. Amina looked at me and hesitated again. I scowled at her, and she bit her lip before finally doing as I told her, like a good bitch. Women should always do what a strong Black man tells them, you know? I’m Bilal Sayyid and I approve this message.

Amina came to the bed, and reached for my dick. At the same time she angled herself forward, positioning herself between my legs. Once more, she hesitated. Do it, I said angrily. Amina finally pressed the strap-on dildo against my asshole and pushed it inside. I smiled happily as the first inch of her dildo went up my ass. Amina began fucking me slowly. A bit too slowly for my taste. I shook my head and told her to fuck me harder. Amina nodded, and stroked my dick while sliding the dildo deeper into my hole. I want you to fuck me harder, I said. Amina nodded, and thrust her hips, shoving the dildo deeper inside of me.

Now, you might wonder what in hell this is all about. Let me give you the rundown. I am a Somali man born and raised in the City of Calgary, Alberta. I’ve lived my entire life in Canada, the son of Somali immigrants. I went to the University of Calgary, where I studied business administration. I graduated with my MBA in the winter of 2010 at the age of twenty four. I got a job working for the Canadian Revenue Agency. Three years later, the shit hit the fan. I was partying with friends one night and I got into a fight with a racist white guy from work, Kelvin Armand. This dude has serious issues with successful Black men. I am ten years younger than I outranked him at the CRA and he couldn’t stand me because of that.

I’ve tried to ignore Kelvin’s bullshit at work but that night in the bar, he saw me dancing with Eric, a gay Jamaican guy from work, and just lost it. He called me a nigger and a faggot to my face. We got into a fight, I hit him and he, um, kind of died. I knew how this would play out. The province of Alberta is the most racist place in Canada, next to Quebec. The courts down there would throw the book at me, man. So I ran. That night I boarded a flight out of provincial Alberta. The next day, I left the Confederation of Canada for a place I had never set foot in, Somalia. The ancestral home of my family. Somalia doesn’t have any extradition treaties with NATO powers so they wouldn’t hand me over to the Canadian authorities when they came calling. I arrived in Mogadishu, the Capital of Somalia, and there I began my new life.

It wasn’t easy, the life of a fugitive. I am one hundred percent westernized, man. I speak the Somali language but with a thick, English-inflected accent. I am not religious, though I was born and raised in a Muslim household. My parents, Abu and Nadifah Sayyid weren’t very religious either. My mom never wore the hijab while I was growing up, and neither she nor my father went to Masjid regularly. My dad worked as a cab driver during the weekdays. On weekends he smoked, drank and partied, and my mother worked as a postal worker. Yeah, I came from a fairly liberal household. No hijabs, no Kufi hats, and plenty of alcohol, loud music, short skirts and other signs of westernization. How can a guy like me be expected to survive in the City of Mogadishu, where the Somali people actually live according to the doctrines of Sharia Law?

In this strange place to which fate brought me, I slowly began building a new life for myself. I had no family in Mogadishu because my parents came from desert country, far from the capital, and they left the country long before I was born. You might find that hard to believe but a foreign-born Somali like myself wasn’t exactly welcomed back to the motherland. There are a lot of dangers awaiting foreign-born Somalis who return to Somalia.

Lots of unscrupulous people like to kidnap vacationing Somali-Americans, Somali-Canadians and the like because they think all Somalis living outside of Somalia have money. They like to hold such individuals for ransom and if their families cannot pay, they kill them. The sad thing is that foreign-born Somalis who get kidnapped while in the motherland are usually abducted by those closest to them. Friends of the family, for instance. Makes sense, now that I think about it. So, yeah, I had to watch my back while in Somalia. A knife in the back isn’t the kind of homecoming I’m after, you know?

I got a job working for this cleric named Abdullah, a powerful businessman who’s fascinated by all things North American. He needed a translator and a computer guy, and even though the position was way beneath what I’m qualified to do, I had no choice but to take it. Besides, zonguldak escort I needed to make a living. I had lived my whole life in Canada, and gotten used to the way of things over there. I wasn’t used to being around so many Somalis, though I have lived in urban areas of Canada heavily populated by my people such as Ottawa, Toronto and Edmonton.

The difference between Somalis living in Somalia and the great diaspora found in Canada, America and the United Kingdom is like night and day. I swear, Somalis in Somalia are louder! And they’re way too strict when it comes to religion and custom for my liking, though what else could I expect? This is Somalia! I had been in Mogadishu for about three months and hadn’t made many friends. The only other ‘westerner’ I met was Ali, a young Somali dude who got deported from England and sent back to Somalia where he was born, thanks to his fondness for gangs, drugs and violence. We became friends, since we were both outcasts in the capital. I went to his house and we had a few beers while reminiscing about England and Canada. That’s how I spent new year’s in 2011. Definitely not the way I intended to spend my new year’s, I tell you that much. Typically I find a hot guy or a sexy woman to bring home, you know?

While in the City of Calgary, I pretty much did whatever I wanted. My parents never asked me about my sexuality. I’ve introduced them to young women I dated while in school, but in my last year in Canada I had been pretty much male-oriented. Don’t ask and don’t tell seemed to be my parents policy when it came to my sexuality. In the City of Mogadishu, I would have to be more careful. Being gay, bisexual or lesbian is not only frowned upon in Muslim countries but it can also get you killed. I had a job, a place to stay and the beginnings of a life. My good friend Ali encouraged me to get married as soon as possible. When he said that, I laughed out loud because I thought the dude was just messing with me.

What in hell would a guy like me do with a wife? I am bisexual. I like pussy but I also like dick. In my entire life, I’ve never met a woman who could handle my being bisexual. My last girlfriend, an Eritrean chick named Manal, dumped me after I told her that I was bi. Women can’t handle male bisexuality, even if the guy promises to be faithful to them. If I couldn’t find a woman who could accept me in a liberal place like Canada, what chances did I have in Somalia? Now, don’t get me wrong. There were times when I envisioned myself leading a normal life with a wife and brats, but I didn’t think that would ever happen for me. Truth be told, I couldn’t see myself living in a house with a guy either. Most gay and bisexual guys I met in Canada just wanted sex, not a relationship. It seems that I was doomed to loneliness. The saga of the lonely bisexual Black Muslim male continues.

One night, while walking through Mogadishu, I came across a couple that was being attacked by three brigands. Like the hothead I am, I rushed to their rescue. All I had in my hand was a club, but it proved to be enough. These thieves in Mogadishu, while dangerous, aren’t the most organized bunch of people. Just desperate men out to make a buck by stealing from their fellow citizens. The largely ineffective police force installed by NATO powers could do very little to protect the citizenry and everyone knew it. That night, I rescued Cisman Osman and his eighteen-year-old daughter Amina. The old man was so thankful that he invited me to his house for food and drink, and I accepted.

The next day I showed up at Cisman’s house, and even though all the terrible things I’d seen and done, I was touched by his kindness and hospitality. His daughter Amina couldn’t take her eyes off me. The short young Somali woman in the long dress and hijab was pretty, but her intense gaze kind of made me uncomfortable. Still, there was something about the way she moved, and her beautiful smile. My heart skipped a beat when her eyes met mine, and we both smiled and looked away. Damn, what was that all about? I haven’t felt excited in a woman’s presence in years!

For some reason, everywhere I went in Mogadishu, everyone automatically knew I was an outsider. Even if I simply stood there without speaking to anyone. Even if I wore traditional Somali clothes instead of my western style clothing. Yeah, I stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. You got no idea what it’s like for me, man. I grew up a Black man in a mostly white country, getting stared at everywhere I went my entire life. Now I’m in East Africa, the birthplace of humanity, a continent full of Black people, and I am STILL getting stared at. What the fuck?

I couldn’t know it back then but Cisman and Amina Osman would prove become like family to me. I would sometimes go to Cisman’s place to play cards and just talk about life and stuff, you know? I missed Calgary but not every minute. Also, Amina and I were becoming friends. She was fascinated by anything foreign just like the majority of Somalis who’d never left the homeland. I started teaching her English, and she tunalı escort learned quickly. Now, typically Somali men don’t allow male strangers to get close to their unmarried daughters but Cisman was fond of me. He called me the son he always wanted but never had, which I found touching.

Not to sound weird or anything but I grew fond of Cisman Osman and Amina. I spent a lot of time with them, and they taught me about my people’s history, and about myself. Amina delighted in teaching the proper way to speak Somali, teasing me when I substituted Somali words for English ones. I fell in love with Amina during those sessions, I guess. The mousy gal I first glimpsed that night in a dark alley, shrieking as her father was beaten by brigands was turning out to be a very bright, interesting young woman. She learned English quite rapidly, while my Somali still leaves a lot to be desired. We teased each other about our differences all the time.

I was growing quite fond of Amina, to tell you the truth. That’s why I surprised everyone, including myself, when I sat Cisman down and talked to him about marrying his daughter. The old man smiled at me and nodded. I’d just spoken the words he was waiting for, I guess. That night, the two of us sat with Amina, and I will never forget the expression on her lovely face when her father gave her the news. Pure unadulterated joy, man. She just threw herself into my arms and hugged me fiercely. This definitely went against custom, but I hugged her back. Her father watched us, smiling. How about that? I actually went and got myself a wife!

Which brings us right back to the beginning of this tale, ladies and gentlemen. Back I Calgary, I was one kinky son of a bitch. And I see no reason to stop now that I live in Mogadishu. Now, I love my dear wife Amina and I’m going against my baser nature by trying to be faithful to her. I’ve decided to take a chance and be honest with her. I told her that even though it is haram in the Quran, I’ve been known to have sexual relations with other guys. I sighed, then told her that I loved women and enjoyed sex with females too. When I told this to Amina, we were sitting at the dinner table. I expected her to be shocked, and disgusted, but her reaction surprised me. Amina looked at me, her expression unreadable.

My heart thundered in my chest as I awaited her answer. Had I made another mistake? If I had, it might cost me my life. There’s a lot of Islamist sentiment in Mogadishu these days thanks to the new government and the rise of the clerics. If Amina goes around Mogadishu telling people I swing both ways, I’m a dead man. Amina smiled, and shook her head. I stared at her, puzzled. Amina gently laid her hand on mine, and told me that she knew what I was the moment she laid eyes on me, and she didn’t mind. Man, if lightning had struck me when she uttered these words I wouldn’t have been more shocked. I smiled and exhaled the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding with true relief. Then I brought my wife’s hand to my lips and kissed it. An exciting and wonderful life awaited us together.

After this revelation, things got better between Amina and myself. My new wife was one horny slut, and I say this with utmost respect and affection. I delighted in exploring new pathways to pleasure with her. One time, I laid her on the living room carpet and spread her thighs, licking her pussy and fingering her for an hour before she cried out in orgasmic delight. I’ve always been great when it comes to oral sex, whether I’m licking a sweet pussy or sucking a hard dick. I’m very patient and love learning new techniques. Amina was beyond thrilled with what I’d done for her, and asked me how she could return the favor.

In the months that followed our wedding night, I’ve taught her many things and she’s taught me some great things too. She’s decent when it comes to sucking my dick, though it took her a while to learn lesson number one when it comes to sucking dick. No teeth. Ever. Seriously! I’ve taught her that when it comes to sex, whatever goes on between us is nobody’s damn business and we can do whatever in hell we want. Only Allah can judge us, not the sexually conservative and overly religious bozos we’re surrounded that. I like anal sex, with both women and men. Amina was hesitant to try it, but I’ve helped her get over those reservations and I’m happy to say that anal sex is something we both enjoy.

I love putting Amina on all fours and playing with her butt because she’s got one of the best asses I’ve ever seen. Considering Amina is only five-foot-seven and one hundred and forty pounds, the size of her thick, heart-shaped ass is simply amazing. I smeared lubricant, in this case Aloe cream hand lotion, all over her ass and then the fun began. I gently bit her butt and then thrust two fingers into her asshole while licking her pussy. Amina moaned softly, and asked me to be gentle. I nodded, and continued working my fingers up her ass while she panted softly, as if running a race. I kissed her big butt and patted it gently and she purred with happiness. tunceli escort I leaned closer and whispered into her ear that my dick was going up her ass next. Her smile vanished. My turn to smile.

Once I deemed Amina ready, I added more lubricant to her asshole and then pressed my dick against it. I asked her if she was ready and she nodded, before making me promise to be gentle. I asked her to trust me and she assured me she did. I gently pushed my dick into her asshole. I’m about eight inches, and kind of thick. That dick of mine has fucked twenty five men and seventeen women during my twenty seven years upon this Earth. However, this was only my third time having anal sex with a woman. Fucking a woman in the ass differs from fucking a man up the ass. It’s something only bisexual men like myself know. By far female butt holes are more fun because a woman’s ass typically has more meat on it than a man’s, making for a rounder bum and a tighter hole. Not that there aren’t big-bottomed guys out there. I’m just saying, you know?

I was kind of surprised at how easily Amina’s asshole accepted my dick, considering this was her first time. While fucking her, I gently spanked her ass and asked her if she’d ever had a dick in her butt before. Amina groaned, and shuddered before answering. Smiling, she told me that she used to play around with her butt, inserting her toothbrush in there, among other things. I laughed and slapped her ass. What a woman! I pushed my dick deep inside her hole, loving the warmth and tightness radiating around my member. I’ve fucked a lot of men’s asses and a handful of women’s but Amina’s asshole was in a class by itself. So beautiful and willing, and so wonderfully tight. Her ass swallowed my dick hole, and I went in balls deep. Considering this was our first time doing dick-to-butt penetration, this was amazing! I fucked that sweet butt of hers until I got my nut, filling her hole with my cum.

Amina’s screams mingled with my own, and I loved it. I pulled out of her, and pulled her into my arms. I kissed her passionately, telling her over and over how much I loved her. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I’d find a woman like her in Somalia, of all places! A Muslim woman who accepts me as a bisexual man and is willing to try all kinds of things in the bedroom to make me happy. Most men in my faith, hell, most men in this world dare not dream of such luck! After this session, I was honestly on cloud nine. I asked Amina how she felt and she flashed me a brave smile before telling me she felt great. I kissed her again, and then swept her into my arms. I began singing, man, and Amina laughed as I carried her to the bedroom, where we continued with our fun. What a woman!

As much as I love Amina, there is a side of me that I feel that she cannot satisfy. That’s a bisexual man’s dilemma. No matter how much you love the woman in your life, you’ll always be attracted to both sexes. I love Amina and I don’t want to go back to men. I don’t want to do other guys, even though she assured me that she’d love to see me with another guy. Still, I do need to RECEIVE a good fuck in the ass once in a while, even though I’ve had a lot of fuck sticking my dick in Amina’s willing mouth, pussy and asshole. Fortunately, I had the perfect solution to my dilemma. A strap-on dildo. Nice and thick, modeled after the penis of Black porn icon Lexington Steele. Yet, surprisingly, when I brought up the topic of her dominating me in the bedroom, Amina, who had been Little Miss Eager up suddenly turned reticent. What the fuck?

It took some convincing, but I finally got Amina to wear the strap-on dildo and fuck me with it. The prospect of dominating me didn’t appeal to her, I guess, since she’s kind of submissive. Me? I’m a switch. Sometimes I like to dominate in the bedroom and sometimes I’m submissive. Sadiq, this Arab guy I once got involved with, understood that perfectly. Some days I’d bend him over and stuff him like a thanksgiving turkey, and other days I’d hop on him and ride his thick Palestinian cock like there was no tomorrow. Fun times. The question is, can my dear wife Amina give my hungry ass the attention it deserves? I’ve fucked her ass good and proper. Can she fuck mine? If she can’t, then we’re going to have a problem.

In hindsight, I think that Amina’s reluctance to take over in the bedroom had a lot to do with Somali cultural conditioning. In conservative Muslim countries, women are taught to be subservient to men. They learn it at home from their fathers and brothers, and it carries over into their relationships with their husbands and their sons, until it dominates every aspect of their lives. Now, depending on the country a woman may or may not have certain rights and privileges.

As conservative as Somalian society is, we’re a hotbed of liberalism compared to the frigging Kingdom of Saudi Arabia! See? Location is everything when you’re a woman in the Muslim world, I guess. The question is, how do I break through Amina’s socially conditioned sense of wifely submission and make it serve my need to be dominated by her in the bedroom? Simple. I am a Muslim husband and under Sharia law I dominate my wife. If I ask HER to dominate ME in the bedroom, she’s simply following my wishes like a good subservient Muslim wife should! That way we’re Sharia compliant like a good Muslim couple!

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