American Muslims Pt. 01

"When am I going to meet your parents, GG Jan." Michael says in his smooth, sensual, spiritual, deep and sexy African-American voice. I look at him and pause; I look down at his well-formed biceps and his chocolate like skin. Lying in bed together, after the most incredible night and the thought that it can't get any better than this, is abruptly brought to an end and the realization, that I cannot have what I seek, sets in.

"Buli, I want you to get Corporal Pleasure (My vibrator) and Private Smooth (Lubricant), and I want you to use your magic touch." I say, with the hope of deflecting the paternal question, besides what guy is going to refuse using a vibrator on their girlfriend? I've never told Michael about my family and most certainly I've never told them about him. When I met Michael, I told him that I wasn't a typical Persian girl, which is true in many respects. I was born in Los Angeles and with the exception of my olive, and some would say golden, skin color, I am as American as apple pie. I grew up near Westwood Boulevard and Wilkins Avenue or Tehrangeles, as I call it.

My name is Golnaz Golnesa Hosseini, or GG, as my friends call me. As Michael Is plundering through my draws looking for my vibrator, I wonder how long I keep him in the dark? He can never meet my parents, the Iranian community in LA is very judgmental, and many of them believe Black people and Persians don't mix. There is quite a bit of racisms in the Persian community, many would frown if I dated an Arab guy, because they see Arabs as their racial enemy. Persians are Aryans like Europeans, they believe, and Arabs are Semites who are unsophisticated and uncivilised. Arabs are seen as thieves and lairs and Persians view African-Americans lower than Arabs. You can see my problem; I of course, believe this is bullshit, but my parents don't.

"Found the vibrator, but can't find the Lubricant?"

"Try the draw in my bathroom." Having said that, my parents are not typically LA Persians either. Most Persians are royalists or supporters of the Shah, but my father was anti-Shah and initially supported the 1979 Iranian revolution. My father is a communist and use to be an active member of the Tudeh party. He was exiled from Iran after the new Islamic regime began purging the universities, of social sciences and professors with suspected leftist sympathies. My mother too lost her job at the university and both of them came to this country as penniless immigrants. There is a dark chapter, we don't talk about in our household, which is we were so poor that my mother turned to prostitution and was controlled by Black gangs. This has created a strong negative association in her mind between blackness and criminality. I was supposed to change the family fortune and I went to college and majored in English Literature. I work as a journalist and my family is proud of me, but I haven't told them where I work. I'm a writer for soft core porn or gentlemen's magazine, the sort of thing, young men read.

"Found it," Michael walks into the room with a devilish look on his face, what have I let my pussy in for? Michael walks over and gently slides onto the bed, he pulls down the bed sheets and rubs lubricant on his hands, before massaging my pussy and applying lubricant to the relevant areas. Ohhh, he's so smooth, he really knows how to get a girl excited with a singular touch. He sticks one finger into my pussy, which sends a heat sensation throughout my body. "You like that baby?"

"Yes, Michael joon, very much. Ahhhhh, just give it to me, I need to be at work soon."

"Your wish is my command, my Shaahzaade Khaanom(Princess)."

Suddenly, I feel a cold stick sliding past my outer lips and penetrating my inner sanctum. It's at moments like this, that I wish I was catholic, so that I can feel dirty doing things like this. There's nothing quite like dirty, filthy and almost blasphemous fornication, but like most Californians and many Persians who have made California their home, I am the product of a hedonistic culture. Doing this in Iran, must be much more fun. The dildo is now fully lodged inside my private sanctum and I yell out "Ahhh yes, I want you inside me." Michael churns Corporal Pleasure around, he twists, tangles, slides, enters and exists and he always repeats. In and out, the most sensual penetration job, I have ever experienced.

My body reaches boiling point and sweat comes out of all my pours, my pussy starts to feel moist and my heart is racing. Michael moves his mouth near where my shaved pussy is and breathes heavily on it, while entering and withdrawing the dildo. Cum starts trickling, almost oozing out of my pussy. White liquid flows down the dildo and runs onto Michael's ebony hands and I know its coming. Suddenly, I feel an enormous sense of pleasure and I close my eyes and wait for the climax to commence. In my mind, I imagine a beach with waves crashing into it, while imaging this scene, cum flies out of my pussy and I feel a tremendous sense of relief. The climax has arrived "Buli, lick me clean."

Michael stretches out his tongue and begins the cleanup operation, his tongue goes slowly and gently around the 'devastated' regions. "Michael Joon, please hurry up, I've got to get ready for work." Michael knows better than to argue with a Persian woman and speeds up. Its true Persian girls are like Persian cats, we are cute and cuddly, but cross us and we scratch. Unfortunately, Michael will not be getting a blow job this morning, I have work and I cannot go in with my breathe smelling of cum. The vultures at the office can smell cum from a thousand miles away and it creates an awkward situation. But Michael is also lucky, because I do practice experimental falitio, which I try out for my column at the magazine.

A month ago, I tried one of these experimental falitios on Michael with excellent results. I like to pride myself on the fact that all my sexual practises advice is field tested. I gently undid Michael's pants and pulled down his underwear, then I licked and scratched his inner thy, before stroking and rubbing the v-area between the base of the cock and the start of the nuts. This area is particularly sensitive and my little finger rubbing it, sent Michael into another world. I then spat and drooled all over his cock and messaged it in. But my signature, was placing Ice cubes into my mouth and sucking his cock and balls with the cubes. It use to be the case, that I was a spiter, but I put Michael on a strict diet that included pineapple juice to improve his taste and now I am a swallower.

After Michael is finished, I head straight to the bathroom and wash myself down and get ready for work. I slide on a black latex mini-skirt, high heel leather boots and white top, but I carry a bag with a change in clothes around with me. The sexy outfit is for work and the other outfit is for when I visit my parents for dinner today. I jump into my car and drive toward my office, while driving I plan what I am going to do today. My position is difficult at the office, I am in constant competition from the other writers, especially the female ones. Many of us are expected to be raunchy and sexy explicit in both our work and personal lives. I have to pretend, that I am bi-curious and that naked girls turn me on, in order to survive at work.

I spread false stories around the office about lesbian exploits, sex orgies and my availability. Most guys at the office don't realize that I have a boyfriend, which I deliberately conceal. Unlike with my family this is not because of Michael's race, but because I need to seem available. I never cross over and actually do anything with my colleges, but I do need to be able to lead them on. The sexual politics of the office is really important; I get given the big assignments, because of the illusion of my sultry and explicit sexuality. Two months ago, I got to travel to Argentina and did a series of articles and video blogs on the sexual openness of Argentine society.

I visited love hotels, which allows you to rent a room by the hour and is used by young people as a place to have sex. I also went to the Argentine version of spring break and basically explored the country's changing sexual mores. It was fascinating exploring the links between Catholicism, dictatorship, traditional culture and the raunchy rejection of these values by young people. I was fascinated by this because, I think a similar culture is either emerging or will emerge in Iran. But I only got to go on this assignment because of my office reputation, I even spread false stories of my sexual adventures in Argentina to help justify my trip to my colleges.

I walk into the office and take my seat. Joshua who sits behind me turns his chair around to face me and I turn in my chair to face him.

"What did you get up to last night?"

I cross my golden legs and smiled flirtatiously at him, "Mmmm, I was a little lonely, so I went out and got myself a black man for the evening."

"Wow, of course you did, you sexy, exotic and horny little minxes."

I place the end of my pen in my mouth and gently bite into it and then say, "Well, I needed to have a little fun. I'm going to my parents' home tonight, so no sex for me, especially not with a black man. And a very well endowed one."

"Will you see him again."

"No, it's one guy per evening for me." And it's in the little details like that, my office reputation is secure for another week. It's not simply lying, but a highly selective version of the truth, one which benefits me. Machiavelli once asked- is it better for a ruler to be loved or feared?- and being a disciple of neo-Machiavellianism, I answer, love is fear and fear is love. My reputation makes my colleges and bosses love me, but my extreme control and weaponized sexuality, makes them fear me too. A woman who is sexually independent and uses cock for her own pleasure, before tossing it aside for someone better, is not only hot-but also scary. I am convinced a woman's body could cause society to collapse.

Later I head into a meeting with my editor to discuss my next assignment, which will be an undercover job, I will pose as a dogger. I, along with Michael, will explore the dogging routes across LA and produce an article called dogging tales. My editor does not know Michael or that he's my boyfriend, but I will stage mange at and pretend he's a guy from the internet I hooked up with. My editor is getting hot and can't stop staring at my legs, it's then, I raise questions about an increase in my salary. He quietly agrees and then, I leave the meeting and head of for an interview I am conducting.

I am interviewing Japanese-American nude model and porn star Akari Yamamoto in a biographical piece. Akari has an interesting history, she was born in California to Evangelical Christian parents who converted away from the Shinto religion. Her upbringing was strict and her mom fits the stereotype of Asian tiger mom. I walk up to Akari and greet her by kissing her on each cheek and we settle down and start the interview. Although my interview is for a written article, it's being filmed for our online blog, and so I have my legs open at all times when facing Akari. The interview begins.

"So Akari, you are now the biggest adult star since Jenna Jamerson, how do you feel?"

"I feel great and I would like to thank my fans for making that possible."

"So, our viewers and readers would like to know, how does a shy Asian girl go from Church choirs and strict Asian parenting to hardcore porn star. Could you tell us about your upbringing?"

"Yes, well as you said it was very strict and very Christian. I was brought up to believe sex and idleness was a sin and boys were forbidden. I use to have to study for hours on end, without going out to play with my friends and if I wanted friends over, my parents would have to vet them personally."

"Was that because of their cultural traditions or religion?"

"A little bit of both, actually. But it's important to remember that not all Asian parents are that strict and mine is only typical up to a point. I mean, there is sexual openness in Japan itself, I mean you can go to vending machines and buy a girl's dirty underwear, which is a major fetish in Japan."

"Really, how interesting!"

"I would say, my strict upbringing had a lot to do with being recent immigrants into a foreign and strange culture. Religion did not help, even when I use to masturbate, I would feel guilty. I didn't lose my virginity until I was 21."

"I see and what changed? Why did you lose your virginity then?"

"Well, I started to have doubts about Christianity after taking some theology classes at college. I also started to re-discover Buddhism- never became one-but I did end up leaving Christianity. At the same time, I had a boyfriend and he eventually convinced me to have sex. Not looked back since."

"How did your family react?"

"With complete horror! I haven't spoken to my parents in years. I'm disappointed with the situation, but I do not regret it, because now I am free to lead to life that I have chosen."

"Did you go straight into porn after college?"

"No, I travelled and stayed in Japan for a while and tried to getting acting and stand-up comedy work, which was tough. Because I had grown up in America, I always thought stand-up comedy was universal. But, I discovered that in Japan, not only does stand-up comedy not exist, the very concept of telling jokes largely does not exist. Japanese do not tell jokes, comedies only exist in the form of long-winded dramas, plays and films, but personal joke telling, no it does not exist. So that idea sunk fast."

"Wow, that's strange."

"Yeah, when I got back to the States, a friend suggested modelling, but I was unsure. You see, my eyes were too small and in Japanese culture we associate bigger eyes with beauty. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it. So I had eye-lid surgery, to make me look more European and increased the size. After that I started modelling and pretty soon, I started getting offers for adult films and I decided why to try it and see if I would like it."

"And here you are."

"Here I am."

"So tell me, what's been your favorite scene/sex acted performed?" I pout my face and push out my lips for the cameras to suggest lesbo-erotic interest.

"Well, I quite enjoyed shooting 'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas', 'Star Whores: Deep Space 9' and 'Memoirs of a Geisha XXX.' In Star Whore, it was my first orgy and I have to say, it was the best experience of my life."

I now fix Akari with my bedroom eyes and try to look excited by her answers, "So what do you like to do sexually? What's your fetish?"

"Well, I like to be thrown, like physically picked up and tossed across the room. I love physical stuff, the rough stuff."

"Ohhh, good answer. What's next for you?"

"Well, I'm actually planning to do something, which is a little bit risqué, but an awful lot of fun. I am going to stage a Gangbang with 1500 men in 24 hours. My aim to break records and we are putting out advertisements for fans to come forward and participate."

"Really? Wow, that's amazing and I can't say, I'm not a little bit jealous."

The interview ends and I head back to my desk to write up the story. On my way back to my desk, I bump into Joshua and he eagerly asks me about the interview and what I thought of her. "Well, to be honest with you Joshua. I had to stop my tongue from falling out my mouth, she is delectable and all I wanted to do is touch her." That answer seems to have pleased Joshua and my reputation will be all the stronger for it. Pretty soon, work time is over and I head to the bathroom to change from my revealing outfit into a long-sleeve top and jeans. I then jump into my car and head for my parents house.

While driving, I start think about how my sexuality evolved and why? How did I develop a thing for black men, given strong communal racism? In my household sex was never discussed and I learnt about sex from my friends. I lost my virginity at 17 to a college football star, who was white and the experience was terrible. It was only after I started college that I started to experiment with my sexuality and I've always been curious about black men. I realize now, that I had inherited white stereotypes about the hyper-sexualised and erotic black man. Once you go black, you never go back was a dictum I lived by. I had also inherited stereotypes about other races too, including Asians, who I've always refused to take to bed because of my pre-conceived notion about them being terrible lovers.

I first got with a black man when I was 19, he was a DJ. I did whatever he wanted; he once forced me to perform oral sex on his friends at a party we were at. I was his little whore and for two-years, he ruined my life. After him there was a string of flings, but nothing serious until I met Michael. I met him during a tango class I was taking and we hit it off right-away. He was funny, smart and a lawyer, but above all else he cares about me. We've been together for nearly a year now and I've decided that he is the one. I want to marry him, but it's complicated and at some point I must tell my parents.

I arrive at my parents' house and I brace myself. I can see from the Honda parked outside my parents' house that my older brother Reza is already here. He's annoying. Reza is doing his PHD is cognitive science and computers. He had this idea that eye and finger print scanning technology are insecure and could easily be faked. But there is one organ, which can't be faked, your brain and he's working on a way for your brain to work as a password to gain access to building and electronics. Apparently, one muscle in the brain is designed for storing passwords and triggering reactive memory when a sequence starts. So let's say, you play an instrument and a particular song, the way you play it, the exact nanoseconds between the beats you play is unique to you. It stored in this particular lobe of your brain and a computer can analyze your playing patterns and confirm it you and give you access. As you can imagine, he's pretty impressed with himself and that makes him annoying.

"Golnaz joon, Chietori Man Dhokhtar (Golnaz dear, how are you my daughter)?" My father says and moves in to peck my on the cheek. My father's long moustache tingles my cheeks as he moves in to kiss me.

"Azizam (my love), where are you?" My mother know launches in and kisses me repeatedly on the cheeks.

"Salam Mama, Baba, Man Khoobam, Alhamdallah (Hi mom and dad, I am good, thank god)" It's then that Reza makes an appearance and he arrogantly struts over to me.

"Hey, little sis. What's up?"

"Fine, Rezzaa.." I say with a look of silent irritation on my face.

We settle down for some Shirazi Salad, Kebab Koobideh and rice, Reza is blabbering on about his achievements. It's then he turns his attention away from work and onto an unexpected announcement.

"Mama, Baba. I want to discuss and honorable matter with both of you. There is a girl, I have been seeing and I want you to visit her parents." Visit her parents is code for I want to marry her and you should go (with me) to her parents house to ask for their daughters hand. That's all I fucking need- if he gets married- then my parents attention will turn to me. My mother's face lit up.

"Vallah (really)? Who is she my son, what's her name and what's she like?"

"You don't know her. Her name is Laleh, she's 23 and studying for her Master's degree in Psychology and I met her on campus, we have been seeing each other for five months. She is very beautiful, smart and funny and would make a good wife."

My father now turns to Reza with a serious look on his face, "What kind of family does she come from? Who is her father and what does he do? Where are they from?"