Arab Femdom: So High Above Me

Man, every time I ran into her, the song "She's So High Above Me" starts in my head. I hope I'm not going crazy or anything. My name is Jalil Akbar. For most of my life, I've seen myself as the son of two worlds. My father Mohammed Abdul Akbar was born and raised in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. And my mother Aisha Tabaan hails from the great nation of Somaliland. They met while studying at the University of Montreal in the Quebec region of Canada. One fine day in March of 1984. They got married shortly after graduation and had little old me. I am as Canadian as maple syrup, and forever proud of my Somali and Saudi heritage. I'm half Black and half Arab, and embrace both. It hasn't always been easy, though. However, a wise man once said nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Welcome to my life.

These days, I study business administration at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. And I am madly in love with a young woman named Cleopatra Johnson. C.J. to her friends. Cleopatra and I met during orientation day at Carleton University. I've never met anyone like her before, or since. I mean, how many six-foot-tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed American women named Cleopatra do you know? Folks, I'm madly in love with my Cleopatra. And I recently asked her to marry me. For her, I have converted to Christianity, forever alienating myself from my family and friends. There are many Muslims in the Confederation of Canada, hailing from places like Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Egypt, Libya, Somaliland, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Senegal and Tunisia. And Ottawa has a particularly high concentration of them. My father Mohammed is a successful real estate mogul and the Imam of the largest Mosque in the metropolis of Montreal. He's far from thrilled with my conversion to Christianity.

If only my parents could see in Cleopatra what I see. Now, I know a lot of Black guys in North America simply go crazy for White women. I'm not one of those guys. For most of my life, I mainly dated Black women and the occasional Persian woman. I didn't really like dating Muslim women because they're not very easy to deal with. I know this might seem surprising from the son of an Imam, but it's true. I don't like living my life according to rigid religious rules based on self-denial. For all of their claims of parallel vision and destination, Christians and Muslims are exactly the same in my eyes. Both believe that restraint from one's true passions lead to enlightenment. Well, it's not a viewpoint I happen to share. I just want to live my life. Why can't people understand?

My father has never approved of my life for as long as I can remember. He doesn't like the fact that my best friend Joseph, a Haitian guy I met in Montreal-Nord, happens to be gay and a staunch atheist. I don't have a problem with Joseph's gayness or his views on organized religion. To me, he's simply my best friend. The guy I've known for most of my life. My father hates gay people, especially the ones from the minority communities. He feels that Canada is too tolerant toward immigrants, even though he's an immigrant himself. Yeah, my pops is a weird guy at times. As for my mother, although I hate to admit it, she's the quintessential Muslim wife. Never questioning her husband's God-given authority. She never backs me up in any argument I have with my father. For that reason and many others, I've always been self-reliant. As far as I can remember, my only backup is me. Way to foster an independent streak in a young man, eh?

When I met Cleopatra Johnson, I was smitten with her. The tall, decidedly Teutonic-looking American woman simply took my breath away. After mustering the courage to approach her, I grew even more fascinated. It's not every day that you meet a tall, beautiful young woman with looks a model or Hollywood starlet would envy, the kind of booty that a video vixen would kill for, and the brains of an Einstein. Yeah, she was all that and then some. Cleopatra was the daughter of Clifford Johnson, a multimillionaire businessman from the City of Boston, Massachusetts. He was one of the new managers of the Sienna Corporation which bought up part of Nortel, the biggest corporation in Canadian history. Cleopatra used to attend the University of Massachusetts in Boston. As it happens, my aunt Aamina Tabaan lived in Boston with her husband, a Jamaican guy named Theodore Jenkins. My mother doesn't get along with her sister because Aunt Aamina married a guy who wasn't Muslim. And she stopped practicing the Islamic religion after moving to the United States to be with the guy she loved. I visited Aunt Aamina and Uncle Theodore last summer. I was smitten with them and the beautiful City of Boston. It's so lively and lovely. Americans are really something else.

To hear my father talk you would believe all Americans were mean and ruthless, that they hated Muslim folk and walked the streets of their cities and towns nearly naked. Bostonians weren't anything like that. From knowing and befriending Cleopatra Johnson, I learned a lot about Americans and about myself as well. Cleopatra was so open and friendly. And she seemed genuinely interested in respectfully learning about other cultures. I've known many Muslims who were very intolerant in their views of Christians whom they labeled infidels. By sharp contrast, Cleopatra was a very liberal-minded young woman who respected those different from her regardless of color, gender, religion or sexual orientation. Man, I was starting to honestly fall for her. I loved her Boston accent. It's so damn charming. It's amazing how having a woman in your life can change you, man. Before long, much of my free time revolved around hanging out with Cleopatra Johnson.

Cleopatra taught me much about the world, and about myself. When she asked me to visit her new Church in Vanier, I happily went. The Church was mostly Black, yet this White chick from Boston felt more comfortable in it than me, and I'm half Black and half Persian. The Church housed about three hundred people. Among them there were a few Hispanic people, and some Asians. As far as I knew, I was the only Persian, or half-Persian, in the audience. The preacher was a short, stocky Black guy in his early fifties. I'd never been in a Christian Church before, at least not to attend an actual service. It was certainly intriguing. I had my reservations, as you can imagine. However, Cleopatra encouraged me to relax and enjoy the show. I watched these animated, friendly people. And the service enraptured me. Service inside a mosque is nothing like service inside a Black Church. Black Churches are...animated. Wow. There was something really contagious about their sheer joy because by the time the service ended, I was singing alongside them. And I never sing! After the service, Cleopatra introduced me to the preacher as well as scores of other people. It was touching to see so many people of different nationalities under one roof. Mosques in Ottawa are an isolationist affair. The Arabs don't always get along with the Black Muslims from Somalia. Unfortunately.

I found myself back in Church with Cleopatra Johnson he following weekend. I guess I was starting to like the place. And eventually, she introduced me to her parents. Her father was White, but her mother was Black. I was stunned. Cleopatra told me that her birth mother, Brigid O'Neill, was Irish. She died giving birth to Cleopatra. Her father married Janelle Thompson, a Black woman from the City of Detroit, Michigan. It was amazing. The woman whom Cleopatra called 'mum' was Black. Wow. Cleopatra's parents were really nice. They didn't seem surprised to see her hanging out with a young Black man. Apparently, Cleopatra liked her chocolate. What a world we live in! Cleopatra and I began officially dating shortly after that. And I fell in love with her. Enough to walk away from the Muslim faith and convert to Christianity. Me, a lifelong Muslim. Converting to Christianity because of the woman I loved. Wow.

All I cared about was spending my life with the woman I had come to love. Unfortunately, my parents didn't see it that way. Especially my father. As the Imam of the largest Muslim community in metropolitan Montreal, he considered it an affront that his only son was converting to Christianity after being bewitched by an 'infidel' woman. To say that he vehemently opposed our union would be an understatement. Nevertheless, Cleopatra and I continued with our relationship. The first time we made love was an experience I would never forget. We were hanging out in her dormitory, watching the Hancock DVD while eating chips and chocolate bars. That's when she gave me the look, and told me that she was ready for me.

Gently, I took Cleopatra's face in my hands. I kissed her tenderly, and then we began undressing each other. I kissed her lips, her neck and her breasts. At the same time, she caressed my face and played with my chest hairs. Off came my T-shirt and her bra, followed by her panties and my boxers. I laid Cleopatra on the bed, and licked a path from her breasts to her belly, and finally to her thighs. Gently I spread them, exposing her cunt. I inhaled the scent of her womanhood, and began licking her gently. I've only had about five female lovers but I'd like to think I learned something from each and every last of them. I licked and probed Cleopatra's pussy and she moaned under my touch. I did what she liked, asking her at almost every turn. And I pleasured my lady's sweet pussy like there was no tomorrow.

Next, Cleopatra explored my body. I'm six-foot-two and weigh two hundred and fifty pounds. Not all of it is muscle, if you catch my drift. I'm somewhat self-conscious at times. However, the way Cleopatra looked at me immediately put me at ease. Clearly she liked what she was seeing. She licked my hairy chest and played with my nipples. Then she made her way down to my groin. Without hesitation, she grabbed my eight-inch dick in her hand. Gently she began sucking on my dick while playing with my hairy balls. I watched her beautiful blonde head bob up and down on my lap as she went down on me. Gosh, she was so damn good. Cleopatra continued until I came, and amazingly she drank my masculine seed. Wow. Afterwards, I put on a condom and we got to more serious business. Lying back on the bed, Cleopatra spreads her sexy legs invitingly. I took that as my cue, and rubbed my dick against her pussy. Looking into her lovely eyes, I asked her if she was ready for me. She nodded. Gently, I eased my cock inside her womanhood. Gently, passionately, we made love. And by Allah, that woman nearly killed me. She exhausted my body that night, as she would for many more nights to come.

The next time I saw my parents in the City of Montreal, Quebec, I introduced them to Cleopatra Johnson. The woman I decided to marry. As you can imagine, they weren't happy. My father basically disowned me right then and there. As for my mother, she simply stood there weeping. Cleopatra had a sad look on her face, but I shook my head. We walked away, hand in hand. In June 2012, I graduated from Carleton University with my bachelor's degree in business administration. I moved to the City of Boston, Massachusetts, to be with Cleopatra. We're getting married after her graduation from U-Mass Boston, which will take place later in the year. I'm converting to Christianity not just because I love my Cleopatra but because I felt more welcome inside a Black Church as a mixed-race Muslim guy than I ever did inside a Mosque, where my skin colour got me funny looks from many. God willing, I made the correct choice. For my faith. For my future wife. For my life.