Muslim Lesbians Of Saudi Arabia

"Damn you for making me fall in love with you Afaf," I whispered to myself as I sat alone at a quiet corner of the campus library. Last night, Afaf Hafiz boarded a flight for Europe from the Ottawa International Airport, the first leg of a long journey toward her homeland of Saudi Arabia. The love of my life has flown away from the City of Ottawa, Ontario, never to return.

My name is Stephanie Stevens, and I, um, have a story to share with you. Might as well unburden myself, lest all the crap that I keep bottled up inside cost me what's left of my damn sanity. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling you about Afaf, the one that got away. That short, brown little Saudi Arabian chick totally stole my heart, and I didn't even see it coming.

Alright, let's get a few things straight, an ironic turn of phrase considering that I am about as straight as that guy from Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I was born and raised in the north side of the City of Montreal, Quebec. My father Stuart Stevens is originally from the island of Jamaica, and my mother Christine Tremblay is French-Canadian. I have two older brothers, Kelvin and James. One is playing rugby while studying at Concordia University, and the other joined the Canadian Army. Our parents recently got divorced, and no, it's got nothing to do with this story. Absolutely nada.

A lot of queer chicks I meet say that they've at times been confused about their sexuality. Or gone through some identity crisis. Me? I'm five-foot-eleven, with long black hair that I keep braided, lime-green eyes and light brown skin. I don't recall the last time I actually wore a dress. Die-hard tomboy from the get go, that's yours truly. I eat, drink and shit rugby. I'm also Captain Obvious when it comes to my sexual orientation. Look up "butch" in the dictionary and you just might see a picture of me.

I don't take shit from anyone, and I don't care what color you are, what religion you follow or what you got between your legs. In Montreal-Nord, I grew up teased by black youths for not being black enough, and by white brats for being too black. Ah, the tragic life of a mixed chick, eh? I learned early on to tell people to go fuck themselves and stay the hell away from me. It works. You should try it.

So, um, I got bored of life in Montreal after finishing high school in 2012, and got the bright idea of moving to Ottawa to study at Carleton University. That's where I met the woman who changed my life forever. We met in the library, the place that was destined to be our special hangout. I'm a nerd through and true, and an online gaming addict. So, yeah, I'm never far from a computer.

"Excuse me please, could you take a quick look at this paper? I just want to avoid sentence structure errors," those were Afaf's first words to me. After a good workout and lengthy shower, I went to the library. I was in the middle of Formula Racer, one of my favorite games of all time, when I sensed someone looking at me. I looked at the short, bronze-skinned and dark-eyed, Hijab-wearing Arab chick who sat at the nearest computer and flashed her an annoyed smile.

"Um, sure, I'll take a look at it," I replied, and the Arab chick smiled as I gave her paper a quick read. It was an engineering paper, talking about the dearth of women in the field, and I gave her points for writing about such a topic, even though from reading the paper, I could tell that English wasn't this broad's first language.

"You've got a few grammatical errors but otherwise your paper was well-written," I said, and the young Arab woman beamed, her pretty face shining like a Christmas tree. I looked into those golden brown eyes of hers, and for a moment, I was stricken by how pretty they were. I swear, Afaf's eyes are almost luminescent.

"Masha' Allah, thank you kindly for this, sister, I'm Afaf," the young Arab chick said excitedly, and I hesitantly shook her small hand. Afaf has one of those infectious smiles that simply get to you, no matter how hardened you are. Typically, I don't like talking to strangers. I keep to myself. People basically suck, and I don't think I'm missing out by not greeting every potentially fake-smiling person I encounter. Afaf, well, that gal was an exception.

"Nice to meet you Afaf, I'm Stephanie," I replied curtly, and returned to my online game. Afaf continued to look at me for a few moments, and then returned to her paper. I sensed right then and there that Afaf was the talkative type, and I typically hate such people. So why do I find myself glancing at her as she typed up her paper? Don't ask.

"Stephanie, I'm going to Tim's for a coffee break, do you want anything?" Afaf's cheerful voice chimed in, startling the hell out of me. I looked at her, forced myself to smile and told her that I'd love a small coffee, with two creams and six sugars. The cheerful Arab gal nodded vigorously, patted me on the shoulder and said that she'd be right back.

"Thanks," I said politely, and watched Afaf as she headed for the elevators. We were on the third floor of the campus library, the dreadful designated silent floor, where there's someone with a Walky-Talky shushing you every five minutes. Being more or less friendless, I never get shushed, except for that one time when my music was too loud.

"Nice ass on Miss Arabia, " I whispered to myself as Afaf turned around a corner, and vanished from sight. What? Are you shocked that I actually checked her out? I'm a L-E-S-B-I-A-N, hello! Girls who like girls check out other females probably just as often as straight men do, if not more. We're just less likely to get caught checking out another female's face, tits or ass, because we're more discrete. Believe me, we do LOOK, alright?

"Hello Stephanie, here you go," Afaf said cheerfully, once again startling me. I looked at the smiley-faced Arab chick and smiled. It's not easy to sneak up on me. Yet this chick moves as silently as a cat. Maybe it's a short people thing. Afaf is like five-foot-three, at best. I thanked her and took the coffee from her, and quiet sipped.

"So, you're into video games?" Afaf said and I nodded while sipping my coffee. I looked at her, and saw that smile moon-faced smile on her lovely face, but there was something in Afaf's eyes. The Arab chick smiled coyly, and I nodded slowly, as understanding slowly dawned on me. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that this Hijabi was flirting with my butch lesbian ass!

"Indeed I am, what are you into, Afaf?" I asked in an even tone, locking eyes with Afaf, who pursed her lips, leaned back in her chair and looked me up and down before answering. I saw amusement in those golden brown eyes of hers, and something else as well. Yup, this Arab chick was definitely checking me out, and for some reason, my heart skipped a beat.

"Oh, I am looking at it," Afaf said boldly, stunning the hell out of me. Look, um, I'm not easily surprised. Let's get that out of the way. I'm a fairly good judge of character, and when it comes to queer women, I definitely know my own kind. Still, Afaf surprised me. I've always known that there are queer women in all races and religions, but getting hit on by a Hijabi in the campus library stunned even me.

"Do tell," I replied, and Afaf moved closer, deliberately violating what I considered to be my personal space. I don't like to be touched. Not even by people I know. It's kind of a thing with me, sorry. When Afaf touched my shoulder earlier, it startled me but I let it slide. Afaf got closer, and this time, laid her hand on my keyboard, shutting off my screen.

"There's more to life than video games, cutie, someone ought to teach you that," Afaf said, smiling wickedly and shaking her head. I smiled faintly, both annoyed and quietly impressed by this chick's confidence. Afaf was something else. Dammit, she's quite ballsy, this short little Muslim chick!

"Show me," I replied, in a daring tone, and Afaf winked at me, and smiled the satisfied smile of a markswoman who struck her target. The diminutive Arab chick leaned back in her chair, and slowly let out her breath, her golden brown gaze roving all over me. Nodding gently, Afaf silently promised me wonders. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Afaf talked me into going back to her place.

"Fuck it Stephanie, you're so damn tight," Afaf said to me, a wicked grin on her pretty face, as she laid me on her bed, stark naked, in the master bedroom of her Bronson Avenue apartment. I smiled nervously at Afaf as she pried my thick thighs open, and looked at my hairy cunt. I don't believe in shaving down below. Women who shave do so for male partners, and it's a mark of pride for me as a queer woman to have a hairy cunt, and armpits.

"Go easy on me," I pleaded with Afaf and she nodded, then slid two fingers into my cunt, followed by a third...and a fourth. I smiled hesitantly, and the wicked gleam I saw in Afaf's eyes was both sexy and intimidating. Locking eyes with me, Afaf began fingering me, causing me to shudder in shocked pleasure as four of her sleek fingers filled my pussy.

"That's what they all say," Afaf said, and then she kissed me, then playfully bit into my left shoulder before fastening those lips of hers to my left breast. I've got a tattoo of the late great Freddy Mercury ( dude's a queer icon and a personal hero of mine ) there and Afaf smiled when she noticed it, but kept on sucking on my breast.

"You're wilder than I thought," I whispered happily, and I finally relaxed as Afaf worked her magic on me. Seriously, this Hijab-wearing Arab Muslim chick was full of surprises. Afaf licked a path from my breasts to my slightly rounded belly, and then finally made her way to my pelvic area.

"You've got no idea, my sweet Stephanie," Afaf said with a wink, then she slowly, painfully pulled her fingers out of my cunt, and I gasped in protest. For I was loving this most welcome intrusion into my core. Afaf smiled and then buried her face between my legs, and I sighed happily as I felt her tongue against my clit.

"Fuck it, you're in my sweet spot," I all but cried out, as Afaf teased the hell out of my clit with her tongue, stabbing at it like a little spear, while her sleek fingers slid into my core, causing me to moan and writhe in pleasure. Seriously, I hadn't had sex in ages, and Afaf was definitely what the doctor ordered. The little Arab broad ate my pussy like only a hungry woman can, and I cried out her name in every language I knew, French, English and profane!

"Next I want to get at that big black ass of yours," Afaf said to me, once I came down from cloud nine. I was still panting from what she just did to me. Seriously, the Arab chick set my pussy on fire with her agile tongue and wicked fingers. I looked at Afaf, and at this point, with lust coursing through my every pore, what do you think my answer was?

"Shoot, I'm cool with that," I said, and Afaf grinned broadly, then we had ourselves some fun. Good thing I showered earlier, seriously, otherwise things might have played out differently between Afaf and I. The daring Arab chick put me on all fours, and spanked my big bum before actually going for the brown. Translation? Afaf began eating my frigging ass!

"Your crack tastes really good," Afaf said, and I giggled softly as she stuck her tongue in my asshole and slapped my ass playfully. Man, I was absolutely loving the hell out of everything that Afaf was doing to me. Afaf definitely knew her way around the female body, and her expert touch set me ablaze with passion. No other words could describe how she made me feel, seriously.

"Afaf, shut up and eat my ass," I said boldly and Afaf laughed, and smacked my bum, hard, before burying that lovely face of hers between my thick, round ass cheeks. A lot of butch women I meet try to be as masculine as possible, and many bind their tits, and hide their assets under baggy clothes. Me? I'm butch, but damn proud of my big tits and big round ass. Not a flatty and don't fucking care to be.

"You're a spunky chick, eh? I love that!" Afaf said, laughing and then she slid a finger into my butt hole. I gasped at this sudden intrusion, and my ass involuntarily puckered up. Afaf slapped my ass and added a second finger in there. I moaned softly, backing that ass up, as they say, and offering it to Afaf, who continued fingering the hell out of me.

Alright, I was in absolute heaven as Afaf licked and fingered my asshole. For the longest time, my ass has been my pleasure spot. Of course, I don't share that with every chick that comes to my bed. Most women I meet can't handle me, in or out of the bedroom. I'm too complex and too hot-blooded for them, and I don't compromise myself for anyone.

"Dammit, that was awesome," I muttered, much later, as I lay in Afaf's arms. Nope, I'm not the type to cuddle after sex or anything of the sort, but I was wiped out after all the mean and sexy things that Afaf did to me. I looked at Afaf, marveling at her. Seriously, that woman was full of surprises.

"Thank you, Stephanie, but I was there," Afaf said, chuckling softly while stroking her long black hair. Afaf has really nice hair, it's a shame that she hides it all day under that Hijab. We'd left the campus library in a hurry and made a mad dash for the number four bus leaving the school. We caught it and giggled during the short ride to Afaf's spot on Bronson Avenue. Once we got to her apartment, Afaf took off the Hijab ( and everything else ) and proceeded to, well, fuck me silly.

"You're full of surprises," I said, grabbing Afaf and pulling her close. Again, this isn't something that I typically do. Lesbians are capable of casual sexual encounters, just like men. I don't get all emotional over every chick I bring to my bed. Life is too short for that garbage. Still, something made me want to hold Afaf close, don't ask me why.

"Or so I've been told, pretty one," Afaf whispered, and then the pretty Arab gal took my face in her hands and kissed me. For a long moment we kissed, and to be honest, it was quite passionate. Surprised the hell out of me. When we got to her place, Afaf and I hadn't gone all romantic with each other. We both wanted sex, hot and dirty, wicked sex, and that was that.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I said to Afaf, and a sour look crept into her lovely face. For a moment, I thought I might have said something wrong, for Afaf indeed looked wounded. At least that's what I thought at the time. A sly look crept into her eyes, and that golden brown gaze narrowed before Afaf pursed her lips and finally said something.

"I don't do this often, sometimes, a gal just gets lonely," Afaf said, and shrugged. There was a smoldering intensity in those eyes of hers, and for some reason, when Afaf's gaze met mine, my heart skipped a beat. I grinned at her, and hugged her tighter. For I absolutely understood what Afaf meant, never mind that she and I came from literally opposite sides of the damn world.

"Afaf, I know just what you mean, I get lonely too and I don't open up easily," I whispered, and Afaf took my face in her hands, smiled and said nothing. We just lay there on her bed, stark naked, still smelling like sex, and held each other. I smiled to herself as Afaf and I held each other. Man, I guess I must have been starving for affection. When I left my house this morning, if you told me that I'd get picked up by a Muslim chick at the school library, and then thoroughly fucked, I would have laughed.

"Stephanie, you're a cool chick, I'd like us to be friends, even if we don't sleep together again," Afaf said, and I nodded, even though I knew I definitely wanted to hook up with her again. Instead of answering her, I drew closer to Afaf and fastened my lips to her small, perky tits. Afaf gasped in surprise but didn't protest.

"Now I get to taste you," I paused to say, looking into Afaf's eyes, and the lovely Arab gal nodded. Finally, Afaf relaxed and enjoyed as I licked her breasts, flicking my tongue over the areolas and pinching them. While I worked on her tits, my hand slid between Afaf's shapely thighs, and my fingers slipped into her hot, wet cunt.

"Wallahi, go for it," Afaf whispered, and I smiled as I kissed my way from her breasts to her round little belly, and finally found myself inches from her pussy. I inhaled Afaf's scent, which was hot, sharp and demanding. Winking at her, I kissed and licked her womanhood, my tongue sliding in while I stabbed her cunt with my index and middle fingers.

"Whoa," Afaf cried out and I paused, thinking that I'd inadvertently hurt her, but Afaf urged me to continue. I thrust into Afaf's cunt with three fingers, then a fourth. This chick was full of surprises indeed. Locking eyes with me, Afaf told me to stick my whole fist in there. I nodded, pleasantly surprised by Afaf's request. I absolutely love fisting, both giving and receiving. Time for Miss Saudi Arabia here to feel the fist of a champion.

"I'm going to stretch you," I crowed wickedly as I worked my fist into Afaf's cunt. I love fisting chicks, although the ones I bring to bed tend to be tall, strongly built fellow female athletes. I don't go for short and delicate when it comes to my women, but then again, Afaf was a welcome exception. I was kind of hesitant at wrecking a short little darling like Afaf, but the Saudi Arabian pixie loved the rough stuff!

"Harder, damn you!" Afaf shouted, and I gleefully thrust my entire fist into her warm, wet pussy. In recent years, my bed has been like the United Nations. Black chicks, white chicks, even a Latina or two, and a Vietnamese broad, I've had my way with all kinds of girls. Never thought I'd ever hook up with an Arab gal, especially not the Hijab-wearing type. Afaf was wilder than I ever imagined, and we had a lot of fun together. Her passionate screams were the loudest I'd ever heard, I swear!

"Thank you, I needed that," Afaf said haltingly to me as she lay, sweaty and panting, on the bed. The pretty Arab chick was still glowing from what I just did to her. Afaf smiled at me, and I smiled back. It's not often I meet a chick who can keep up with me, in or out of the bedroom. This one might be worth keeping around, even if only for entertainment purposes. At least that's what I thought at the time.

"You and I are going to be fantastic friends...who fuck each other silly," I said to Afaf, and she laughed heartily. That's how it all began, ladies and gentlemen. The romance and sexually charged friendship that changed my life. Afaf and I became close friends, and we didn't just hang out and fuck. We actually shared something meaningful.

"A lot of women from the Islamic world have relationships like we do but many of them give them up because tradition requires Muslim sisters to get married," Afaf said to me one night, as we rode the bus home from the Mayfair movie theater in downtown Ottawa. We'd just seen the Indie movie Vic And Flo Saw A Bear, a lesbian drama with a tragic ending, and it left me pensive.

"Fuck tradition, Afaf, you've only got one life, think about that!" I said vehemently, and Afaf smiled sadly and nodded, even though she seemed unconvinced. In those days, I was foolish enough to think that I might be able to talk Afaf into walking away from fourteen centuries of Islamic tradition, turn her back on the draconian rules of her Saudi homeland, and embrace a lesbian life in Ottawa with me. Ah, the folly of youth.

"Stephanie, I just want to focus on this moment right here with you," Afaf said, and then she grabbed me, stood on her tippy toes and kissed me. That's right, the short Hijabi grabbed my butch lesbian ass and kissed me on the front steps of her Bronson Avenue high-rise apartment building. We kissed passionately, without a care in the world.

"Afaf, I just want to be with you always," I said to Afaf, and she smiled and held my hand as we rode the elevator on our way to her place. We'd been seeing each other for several months now, and I'd already introduced Afaf to my Mom and Dad during an impromptu weekend getaway in Montreal. Afaf was stunned when she discovered that my parents were supportive of my lifestyle.