Black Men Spank Black Females

Right now, I'm positively glowing, ladies and gentlemen. Why is that, you may ask? Simply because I just got the spanking of a lifetime. My name is Khadija Mahdi, and I'm a young woman of African and Persian descent living in the City of Ottawa, at the heart of provincial Ontario. I attend Carleton University, the setting of so many of my adventures. When most people look at me, they see a quiet and friendly, self-effacing and docile little Muslim gal. Well, don't let the hijab fool you, chicks from my neck of the woods have been known to get down and dirty. We have to be discreet because there are so many damn rules for us ladies in Islam, but we do have our fun. Otherwise, what would be the point of living? My point exactly.

I have always been fascinated by guys from other religions, much to the chagrin of my parents, Mohammed and Atifah Mahdi. Lucky for me, they live in the City of Montreal, Quebec, pretty far from Ottawa. I live in the dorms at my school and have made the most of my newfound independence. You've got no idea what it's like to grow up in a deeply religious and repressive household. My older brother Salim surprised the hell out of the family by running off with this gay white guy named Peter, whom he met at the University of Toronto. My parents were shocked, but I wasn't. I knew that Salim wasn't straight. Of course, Muslim parents pay close attention to their daughters while turning a blind eye to their sons activities. If my parents actually paid attention to Salim, they would have figured out a long time ago that he liked the cock. Me? I've been in the know for a while. I just didn't say anything because I didn't want to blow my brother's cover, you know?

I have made the most of my newfound freedom in the City of Ottawa. Without my relatives looking over my every move, I felt free at last. I went out on dates, went to clubs and attended festivals. A lot of girls my age take their right to do what they want for granted, and that's mostly because they come from non-Islamic backgrounds. Christian, Jewish, Agnostic and Atheist parents are a lot more relaxed about letting their daughters go out and have fun than Muslim parents will ever be. It's not so much religion as it is culture. My father is Iranian and my mother is Somali, so yeah, either way my culture is conservative. In the City of Ottawa, I was determined to live my life, though. I met this tall, gorgeous red-haired and green-eyed white dude named Paul Harrison, and we totally hit it off. Paul was born and raised in the City of Galway, somewhere in Ireland, and he had the cutest accent. I wanted him from the first time I saw him. A lot mixed-race chicks of partial African descent have a sexual attraction to white guys. I don't know why that is but I liked Paul and he liked me. The fact that he was a good Catholic lad from Ireland didn't stop me one bit. A lot of Muslim girls don't bother with dating guys from other religions because they don't see a future there. Me? I wanted to live my life, so why worry about the future? I could die tomorrow for all I know.

Paul and I started going out, and he showed me the City of Ottawa, in a way I had never before seen it. I guess it's true what they say, it's not just where you are it's also who's there with you, you know? With Paul by my side, the City of Ottawa, long considered the most boring town in the continent of North America, began to feel like a new beginning instead of a dead end to me. I found myself actually falling in love with this tall, ruggedly handsome Irishman. He was actually the first person I had sex with. I gave myself to him one night because I thought he was the one. He was charming and sexy, and he treated me like a queen. Nobody else had ever treated me this way.

A lot of Somali chicks are gorgeous and a lot of Persian women are hot but I didn't exactly get the best of both worlds from my parents. I stand five feet eleven inches tall while barefoot, and I weigh two hundred and forty pounds. I'm a chunky, light-skinned chick with big tits, wide hips, chunky legs and a big round ass. I'm a towering, heavyset woman of color in a world that worships skinny white-skinned women. Paul made me feel beautiful, and he made me feel special. I thought he was the one. I never imagined that my charming Irishman would consider me just another notch on his belt. I saw his Facebook posts, where he bragged to his friends about getting some Muslim pussy. I deleted him as a friend and cried myself to sleep that night. I swore to myself that I'd never let another man break my heart again.

That's how my first semester at Carleton University went, ladies and gentlemen. I focused on my studies instead of guys, and I avoided the other Muslim chicks at school because they considered me to be a slut after seeing me date Paul, who wouldn't stop bragging about fucking me. You see, there are a lot of guys out there who think Muslim chicks who wear the hijab and dress conservatively are the forbidden fruit, and they want to fuck the hell out of us. There's even porn dedicated to that online. Well, I was determined not to be a victim again, so it's later for the entire male species until I get married, thank you very much. That's how I felt until I met Samuel Bernard. I was walking through the university center one morning and ran into Paul, who was walking around with his next victim, a tall Jamaican chick. He shot me a look, and whistled in my direction. When I told him to fuck off, he told me he already had me. I blushed in embarrassment, and lowered my head in defeat.

Was I doomed to spend the rest of my days feeling like I'm less than because I gave Paul the white dude some pussy in a moment of weakness? Aren't I a woman? These questions swirled about my head as suddenly, someone got in Paul's face. A big and tall young Black man grabbed the white dude by the collar, and told him that if he ever caught him disrespecting Black females again, he'd kick his ass. All around us, students stopped and stared. The Black guy let go of Paul, and looked at me. He called me sister, and asked me if I was alright. I smiled with more strength than I felt, and nodded. Paul and his Jamaican female flunky walked away. My savior wished me a good day, then walked away. I looked heavenward and thanked Allah for His blessings. There are some good Black men left on earth!

I continued living my life, and slowly, I got back in the rhythm of things. I started going out again, I dated other guys, and I even experimented with a chick or two. I never forgot my savior, though. The next time I ran him, I was at a BDSM event in the south end of Ottawa. I'd become curious about BDSM, and finally decided to go to an event. A munch organized by local BDSM players. It was held at a nice Italian restaurant. I met some cool people there including Ashley Pandemonium, the tall blonde lady who organized the event and her husband Drake Yamamoto, a tall, lean and muscular, extremely handsome Asian guy. All in all, there were twenty people at the munch, and I thought I was the only Black person until I saw...him. The tall Black guy from school. He smiled at me and introduced himself as Samuel Bernard, born in northern Montreal to Haitian parents. This son of conservative Christian immigrants was a sexually adventurous dude who dabbled in BDSM. I smiled at him, and what can I say? Sparks flew.

Samuel and I became friends that night, and kept in touch. I found him sexually appealing, and we began seeing each other. I told him I wanted to experiment with some light BDSM and he told me he'd be delighted to help a sister out. Brother had a plan, and I was all for it. I invited him to my dorm one Friday night after Masjid, and we got our freak on, as they say. Samuel was very patient with me and explained everything beforehand. I knew I was in good hands and trusted him completely as he began showing me the ropes, so to speak.

Samuel bound my hands with cuffs, and tied my legs with leg cuffs. He made me walk around my room while fully clothed, and asked me how I felt. I told him I felt great. Something about being bound turned me on sexually. Samuel smiled, and asked me to take off my clothes. I compromised, and told him that I'd keep on my bra, panties and of course my hijab. Samuel was totally okay with that, and he told me that I looked beautiful. I admired my reflection in the mirror and smiled. Samuel was right. I looked totally enticing with only my bra, panties and hijab on. Samuel laid me down on the bed and brought pleasure to my body like only he could. My first time with Paul had been thrilling but rushed. Samuel was different. He was sexually experienced and believed in taking his time, which made a world of difference.

I lay on the bed, watching as Samuel made sweet love to me. He kissed me full and deep, then kissed a path from my lips to my neck, finally stopping at my breasts. Samuel licked the areolas of my tits, gently pinching them and eliciting a moan from me. He laughed and spread my legs, sliding his fingers into my pussy while licking and sucking on my tits. When he finally began licking my pussy, I nearly passed out. His tongue darted into my pussy, playing with my clitoris. I shuddered in pleasure as my sexy Haitian-Canadian stud worked on me. I wanted him inside of me so badly, but he told me that he wanted to spank my ass before fucking me. I was hot and wet, so I couldn't refuse him anything. Besides, I was curious as hell.

Samuel bent me over his knee, and palmed my big round ass. He told me that I had one of the biggest, baddest and most beautiful butts in town. I laughed and told him that I try my best. Samuel began spanking my ass, delivering stinging slaps and smacks to my ample posterior. I yelped, gasping at the pain yet welcoming the pleasure. He took out his leather belt and whooped my ass with it, and I squealed in pleasure mixed with pain. I loved what he was doing to me, and I couldn't get enough of it. After spanking me like this for a good while, Samuel told me he was ready to fuck me. Except that he told me he wanted my ass. I hesitated. Did he mean that? I told him I was okay with trying new things, but we'd have to be careful. Samuel told me not to worry, and then we proceeded with it.

Face down and ass up, I waited for Samuel. He kissed my big ass, and then spread my butt cheeks. He lubricated my asshole, then put on a condom. I hesitated, thinking about everything we were about to do. I was on my hands and knees, hands and legs bound, about to get fucked in the ass by a big Haitian guy. Samuel rubbed his dick against my anus, and pressed it against my backdoor. I gave him the green light, and Samuel pushed his cock into my anus. I grimaced as Samuel penetrated me. Holding my wide hips tightly, Samuel began fucking me in the ass. It hurt a bit at first, but after a while, it felt great. I welcomed the intrusion in my ass, and loved it. Samuel fucked me real good for a long time, and his big cock filled my ass. I absolutely loved it, and cried out in pleasure mixed with pain, and urged him to fuck me harder. Samuel sodomized me until I begged for mercy, and squeezed his dick out of my hot, dirty asshole, two hours later. Samuel and I showered together afterwards, then he kissed me goodnight and left. I lay in bed, feeling happier than I've ever felt in ages. That's what a hard spanking and a good fuck in the ass will do to any woman, even a hijab-wearing biracial Muslim chick like me.