Chechen Muslim Gals Going Black

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Chechen Muslim woman and Somali stud connect.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,117 Followers

Friday at last. Pay day for some. The start of the weekend for many. A day of prayer for people of certain faiths, like Muslims. Good Muslims are at the mosque, doing their Salah or prayer. Aziz Ali, a Somali brother who is Muslim by birth, is nowhere near the mosque. This brother is hanging around downtown Ottawa, trying to pick up chicks at the Rideau Shopping Center.

"Not interested," said the tall, slim black chick with short hair in the University of Ottawa sports jacket, after Aziz accosted her at the local branch of the Freedom Mobile Store. Aziz nodded, acting cool, even though the stinging rejection made his heart wince. He watched Miss Slim Thick, as he thought of her in his mind walk away, that fine butt of hers looking damn good in those yoga pants.

"Win some and lose some," Aziz said to himself while stroking his goateed chin. Six feet two inches tall, slim and fit, with smooth chocolate skin and slick, curly dark hair, Aziz is a fine specimen of Northeast African masculinity. The brother has been told more times than allowable how damn fine he is, and sometimes it gets to his head. Still, he looked almost dejected as he made his way past Nordstrom, toward the escalator.

On the afternoon in question, Aziz wore his trademark, all-seasons, well-worn black leather jacket over a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots. He'd finished his overnight shift at the TD MBNA Call Center in Gloucester, Ontario, gotten a good six hours of sleep and then went to Rideau, his stomping grounds. Too bad he wasn't picking up anything.

Aziz knew that with the female of the species, timing and presentation are indeed everything. In his twenty-something years, he'd been with ladies of all hues, from college girls to middle-aged housewives, and everything in between. Even the best hunter can be eluded by shrewd prey, this much Aziz knew for sure. The brother was so preoccupied he didn't notice a pair of lively, amused green eyes following him as he made his way down the packed escalator.

Aziz headed to the food court, which was the very last place a brother should go to holler at women. Women tend to be alert, and a bit self-conscious, when dining in public, especially when by themselves. A pickup artist has his work cut out for him if he wants to come at them in that specific locale. The gals who are dining with friends will band together against even a mildly intrusive male, and the gals dining by themselves usually have issues. Not a good mix for a pickup artist like Aziz...

"Whatever," Aziz said to himself, as he ordered some food from Manchu Wok. There were several young women in line behind him, some of whom were wearing Carleton University gear. The thought of Carleton University, his alma mater, made Aziz smile. Two years ago he graduated with his bachelor's degree in Computer Science, and somehow ended up working at a call center for sixteen bucks per hour. Life is funny that way.

Aziz briefly glanced at the gals in line, and shook his head. One of them, a tall, blue-eyed and curvy blonde, was standing awfully close to a short-haired, tattooed, kind of tomboyish South Asian gal in urban gear. Miss Tomboy was glaring defiantly at Aziz while possessively grasping the hand of the alluring blonde. Behind them, a short, slim Chinese gal was typing on her cell phone. This isn't my day, Aziz thought sourly.

"Thank you," Aziz said to the short Asian lady, after using his BMO debit card to pay for his grub. The young man looked for a seat, and finally found one after searching for some time. An older white couple got up, vacating a pair of seats near the edge of the Rideau Shopping Center food court. Aziz sat down, and out of a habit, closed his eyes before attacking his meal.

"Bismillah and bon appetite to me," Aziz said to himself as he looked at his meal. Pulling a Pepsi can out of his backpack, Aziz opened it, and took a sip. It was warm, the result of having been in his bag for hours. Whatever, Aziz wasn't going to buy another can, not here at the mall, where they charged almost as much as they did in movie theaters. Thanks but no thanks, a brother has to be smart with his cash.

"Salaam, brother," came a feminine voice, snatching Aziz out of his mid-afternoon funk. Aziz looked up, and found himself facing a vision of beauty. Before him stood a tall, curvy, red-haired and green-eyed young woman with freckles all over her alabaster skin. It took him a moment to recognize his former classmate, Deshi "Deedee" Sheripov, the Chechen immigrant gal with whom he butted heads, once upon a time.

"Hello Deedee, my, it's been a while," Aziz replied, and Deedee smiled as he hastily offered her the seat opposite him. The young woman sat down, and began to steeple her fingers while a nervous Aziz looked on. Deedee looked quite beautiful in a long-sleeved black T-shirt featuring Ice Cube, ankle-length drab blue dress and boots. Most of her lovely red hair was tucked under an ebony fedora hat which suited her just fine.

"Yes it has, Aziz, still prowling around Rideau looking for girls, I see," Deedee said, grinning, and Aziz licked his lips, then nodded bashfully. The brother hasn't changed a bit, Deedee thought, wryly amused. Four years ago when they met, during a heated debate in Women's And Gender Studies, an elective they both took, Deshi and Aziz definitely clashed.

In those days, Deshi Sheripov, who was straddling the fence, trying to balance her sensibilities as a modern young woman with her Chechen Muslim heritage, butted heads with everyone. Deshi clashed with Aziz Ali, the westernized Somali Muslim who thought that Canadian liberalism was perfect, and that Muslims with conservative ideals and traditions should simply get with the program. For the fiery Chechen gal, this was an affront, both to her heritage and Islamic faith...

"Life happens, my sister, so, Deedee, how have you been?" Aziz asked, totally changing the subject. He was surprised to see that Deedee wasn't wearing the Hijab, since, back in the day, she was so damn conservative. A lot of people at Carleton University didn't quite know how to handle the hot-tempered Muslim gal from Eastern Europe who flaunted her Islamic faith and decried the ways of western society, Canada in particular. Aziz thought Deedee was too hot to handle...

"Don't change the subject, Aziz you crafty bugger, we're talking about you," Deedee said, laughing, and for some reason, she brushed her hand against Aziz's. When Deedee's hand brushed against Aziz, he froze for a moment, but got hold of himself and played it cool. Deedee had an effect on him alright, she knew how to complicate things, something Aziz both admired and disliked about her.

"Alright, I'm single, since, you know, Samira and I split, and I was trying to holler at some girls but I lost my touch," Aziz said, sighing while taking a sip of his Pepsi. Deedee looked into Aziz's soulful brown eyes and the sadness she saw in them surprised her. She remembered Samira Aoun, the Lebanese gal that Aziz had been crazy about back at Carleton. They were a hot item all over campus, but that was then. Before Deedee could reply, however, Aziz asked her if she wanted a Pepsi, then headed to Manchu Wok to get one after receiving barely a nod from her...

"Thank you for the Pepsi, Aziz, so, what happened between you and Samira?" Deedee asked, when Aziz came back. She opened the ice-cold Pepsi and took a sip, and gazed at Aziz. The tall, handsome and well-dressed Somali brother shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Deedee knew that she had him right where she wanted him. Whatever he was about to share, it had to be good...

"Well, Deedee, I won't bore you with the details but Samira is Lebanese, and as you know, lots of Arabs don't like us African brothers getting with their precious Arab women, Samira's parents freaked out, and she dropped my ass," Aziz said glumly. He finished his Pepsi, downing its remainder in one gulp, and shrugged. There was a haunted look in Aziz's face. Deedee winced, sensing his pain.

"I'm sorry, Aziz, I don't know what else to say," Deedee said softly, and she laid her hand on his, nodding gently. Aziz looked at her hand on top of his, and Deedee held his gaze without wavering. Aziz shrugged, wondering why Deedee was so interested in rehashing the past, and why she was behaving so uncharacteristically nice. First Deedee wasn't wearing her hijab, then she was also acting so damn different. What gives?

"It's cool, Deedee, it's history," Aziz said, and then once more he changed the subject of conversation, inquiring about her. Deedee looked at Aziz, amazed by his persistence. The Somali brother hadn't changed a bit. He was charming, and doggedly insistent on getting what he wanted. Once upon a time, she find that exceptionally annoying in a man. Now, she wasn't so sure...

"Well, my dear Aziz, I'm chilling, as they say, I'm divorced from that asshole Mitayev, and my parents back in Montreal aren't speaking to me since I offended them for divorcing a nice Chechen Muslim brother, and I'm doing my own thing," Deedee said, laughing merrily. Aziz looked at the feisty redhead as though she had two heads, and gently stroked his goateed chin. This was interesting news indeed...

"Well, in that case, Deedee, we should toast to your freedom," Aziz said, raising his now empty Pepsi can, and a cheerfully Deedee clinked her can against his. The two old friends and former classmates exchanged a smile, and then, without another word, a decision got made by both parties. Aziz packed up what remained of his lunch and then he and Deedee left the food court.

Passion is as passion does, and doesn't care for the boundaries of race, religion, nationality or culture. Aziz has always believed that a man's chances with any woman have to do with first of all her frame of mind, and second of all, his approach and presentation. If someone told him a day ago that he'd been walking around the Rideau Center with his former collegiate nemesis Deedee, talking and laughing, he would have dismissed the very thought. Look at him now...

"These shoes cost a small fortune but I dig them," Deedee said to Aziz as they walked out of Marc Cain, the upscale store on the first floor of Rideau. Aziz smiled and nodded at Deedee. He wasn't an expert on women's upscale shoes, or men's upscale shoes for that matter, limiting his purchases to Reebok, Timberland, and the occasional Nike. Footlocker was among his favorite places to be...

"Amen to that," Aziz said, as they boarded the 95 bus heading to Orleans, Ontario. Aziz and Deedee were making out as they rode the bus back to his place. He was quietly astonished at the Chechen beauty as she stuck her tongue down his throat, and he caressed that firm body of hers, whose dangerous curves even her urban shirt and drab long dress couldn't hide...

"Don't think you're going to get laid just because I'm feeling freaky," Deedee chuckled into Aziz's ear, and he gazed at her while smiling innocently. The bus reached the Saint Laurent Mall, and they took an Uber to Aziz's apartment on Beecher Woods, which cost them eight bucks. Once there, Aziz gave Deedee a tour of his one-bedroom spot, his small living room, his bathroom, his kitchen, and his laundry room.

"Home sweet home," Aziz said to Deedee, as they stood in his living room. She sat on the couch as he went to the nearby kitchen, and brought back a bottle of red wine, Cabernet Sauvignon. Upon returning to the living room, Aziz was in for a surprise. Deedee stood there, sans her T-shirt and long dress, revealing a curvaceous, luscious body whose pale skin stood starkly against her ebony bra and matching panties.

"I can think of something sweeter, handsome," Deedee said, smiling lustfully, and Aziz nodded. He went to her like a magnet to metal, and the lovely lady received him with open arms. Once more they kissed, and off came his clothes. Aziz and Deedee tumbled on the carpeted floor, and began exploring one another. Aziz marveled at Deedee's curves. Such hotness she hides under those drab clothes, Aziz thought as he worked her over.

"Let's see how sweet you are," Aziz said to Deedee, as he laid her on the carpeted floor, and did his thing. Deedee spread her thighs invitingly, and he kissed her sex, then began licking her clitoris. Deedee nodded, smiling as Aziz sucked on her clit while worming his fingers into her pussy. The brother definitely knew his way around a vagina, and she was in for a wild ride...

"Hmm, yes, don't stop," Deedee murmured, and Aziz buried his tongue and fingers deep inside of her, watching as her pussy got wetter and wetter while her curvy body writhed on the carpet. Deedee's nipples were fully erect, and she rubbed her breasts together, loving what Aziz was doing to her pussy. The great debater definitely has a wicked tongue, Deedee thought with a smile. It wasn't long before he made her cum, suddenly and quite violently, just the way she liked it...

As the afternoon rolled on, Aziz and Deedee continued with their fun. Aziz smiled as Deedee showed him what she was made of. She had him standing up against the wall while she knelt before him. Her sleek hand gripped his manhood, and stroked it. Looking up at Aziz, Deedee flashed him a wicked, lustful grin, then took him into her mouth. The fun is just beginning, Aziz thought, nodding in approval.

"Hmm, you're really good at that," Aziz said, sighing happily as Deedee sucked him off, her lovely red hair swaying this way and that while fellating him. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and enjoyed. Deedee's sweet lips got Aziz hard as a rock, and he flashed her a horny grin. Holding his hand out to her, he pulled her to her feet, and they kissed. Just like that, they continued with their fun...

"Fuck me, lover, and none of that gentle shit either, I like it rough," Deedee said, as she grabbed Aziz by his dick, and headed to the bedroom. Aziz dutifully followed her, and joined her in bed. Deedee got on all fours, shaking that big, round, pearly white ass at him. Aziz felt his dick harden, and reached for the condoms on his night stand. Rolling one on his dick, he smiled, for he was ready for her...

"As you wish, Miss Dee," Aziz replied, and he caressed Deedee's big beautiful ass, and playfully smacked it. Deedee purred like a kitten and turned around, a coy smile on her lovely face. Aziz rubbed his hard dick against her bum, and then pushed his way into her. Deedee sighed happily as Aziz's thick dick entered her, and just like that, he began fucking her. He gripped her hips and drove his dick deep inside of her. Nice and thick, Deedee thought, licking her lips while grinding her ass against Aziz's groin.

"Harder," Deedee demanded, loving the deliciously hot pain and wicked pleasure she felt deep inside as Aziz's thick dick invaded her. The Somali stud really went to town on her, gripping her long red hair and yanking her head back. He even smacked her ass while drilling his dick into her. Deedee moaned deeply, and then squealed in delight as Aziz suddenly gripped the back of her neck, holding her down while fucking her. Dick me down, Deedee thought happily, loving Aziz's intensity.

After hours of passionate lovemaking, or intense fucking, Deshi "Deedee" Sheripov and Aziz Ali lay side by side on the bed, smiling. They spent the rest of the evening having sex, ordered Chinese food, ate, watched the second act of Luke Cage on Netflix, and then fucked some more. At the end of the evening, they shared a hug and a kiss, then Deedee headed home in an Uber. Are they friends, fuck buddies, or in a budding relationship? None of that matters, passion is as passion does. Get over it.

Samuelx
Samuelx
2,117 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago
SamuelX: a challenge

I bet there is no way you can write a story without the characters introducing themselves, not mentioning their race or country of origin, and avoid closing with some smug comment.

You are so predictable complaints written about your formulaic spam 10 years ago are still vaild.

Step up to the challenge. Improve yourself. Write something different for once.

AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago

SamuelX could stop writing and nothing of value would be lost, if you want to know how to write erotica involving a muslim woman, ask TahrimaBegum.

AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago
How?

How in the hell do the mods not delete you for being such a nasty little racist pig?

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