My life was really empty before I met Mohammed Hassan. Seriously. I was living in North London, England. The town where I was born, yet a place where I always felt like an outcast. Being a five-foot-eleven, 260-pound woman in a world built for slender girls will do that to you. It seemed to me that the world was simply not made for someone like me. I have blonde hair and blue eyes, sure, but I’m by no means the standard of beauty of the Western world. Because I’m FAT. I’m not curvy, or packing a few extra pounds. I’m really damn enormous. And there’s no getting around it.
I was at Brunel University, studying Business Administration. That’s when I met Mohammed Hassan. The tall, dark and handsome stud with the funny accent. Born to a Senegalese father and Tunisian mother. One of the Princes of Metropolitan Dakar, the Senegalese Capital. One of Africa’s mightiest nations. He came to Brunel University to study Criminal Law. This six-foot-one, lean and muscular African Prince simply took my breath away the first time I laid eyes on him. Of course, I told myself there was no way someone like him would ever show any interest in someone like me. There are plenty of pretty ladies of all hues at Brunel University. White women. Black women. Asian women. Indian women. Arab women. And since Mohammed was both wealthy and handsome, he could have his pick of them.
So you can imagine my surprise when Mohammed approached me one afternoon inside the Brunel University library. I was sitting in a corner, typing up an assignment on my laptop and wishing I hadn’t eaten the burrito I had for lunch….or the three hotdogs I wolfed down half an hour later. Mohammed sat next to me, and asked me if I was alright. I looked at him, stunned. The guy was even better-looking up close. And he had a really nice smile too. I realized I was staring at him and an answer was expected of me.
I smiled and told him I was fine. In a kind voice, he told me I seemed kind of down. I told him I had a tough life. Mohammed smiled, and told me that the Most High seldom gives any of us more than we can handle. He introduced himself as Mohammed Hassan of Dakar City, Senegal. I smiled and shook his hand. The handsome stud had a nice and strong grip. I like. Thus, we met. Mohammed told me he didn’t have many friends at school and I almost shat myself when I heard that. A guy who looks like Mohammed, tall, dark and handsome, doesn’t have many friends at school? Oh, please. When you’re a tall, good-looking man, women want you and men want to be you. Mohammed seemed a bit sad, and like the friendly person that I am, I told him I could relate to him. Of course I was lying. He’s tall, has a cute accent and he’s ridiculously good-looking. I’m a fat White chick with a chunky body, wide hips, thick legs, wide waistline and a huge ass. I’m twenty three years old and I’ve never even been kissed by a man. How pathetic is that?
Mohammed looked into my eyes, and told me what was bothering him. As an African man from a predominantly Muslim country, he felt unwelcome at Brunel University because a lot of the local Caucasian students held anti-Islamic views. He told me one of them shouted at him to go back to his tree house in Africa. I cringed when I heard that. That’s uncalled for! I felt mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I don’t believe anyone should be discriminated against because of their race, body type, gender, sexual orientation or religion. However, in beautiful England, we’ve had a lot of problems with the Muslims. Seriously. Muslim girls attending Catholic schools insist on wearing the hijab. Um, I was raised Catholic and I know that if I went to an Islamic school, I would have to conform to their rules.
Why can’t Islamic women conform to our rules when they attend our schools? If I went to Saudi Arabia, they’d make me wear the damn Abaya because I’m female. The fact that I’m a British national wouldn’t make any difference to them. Muslims are always screaming discrimination but when the shoe’s on the other foot, they like to have their cake and eat it too. Seriously, in England, if we don’t watch out, we’ll become just like Nigeria or Syria. Predominantly Muslim countries full of strife and political instability. Sorry, but that’s the way things are. Of course, I couldn’t tell Mohammed any of this. I told him that those bigots at school didn’t represent the majority of British society. I told him that even though I’m a Christian woman, I’ve got Muslim friends and I respect everyone. Mohammed looked into my eyes and smiled a sad smile.
I gently touched Mohammed’s arm, and told him he got a friend in me. And I meant it. I’m a very loyal person. Like every human being on the planet, I’ve got my likes and dislikes, my prejudices and my conceits. Unlike everybody else, I acknowledge them. Mohammed looked into my eyes and we shook hands. I looked into the beautiful dark eyes of this tall, dark and handsome African Prince. And I knew from that moment on that my world would never be the same. Mohammed and I became fast friends at school. What a pair we made. The tall, fat White chick and the tall African Muslim guy who’s too sexy for his own good. Mohammed introduced me to his friends. Guys and gals from places like Jordan, South Africa, Tunisia and France. I noticed that he didn’t seem to mind associating with diverse people. His buddy Rosenberg is Jewish. His friend Amira is Tunisian. His buddy Ahmed is actually a Christian guy from Ethiopia. And he was always friendly and generous with them. What a man!
In spite of my best efforts, I fell in love with Mohammed. Who am I kidding? I wanted him the first time I laid eyes on him. One day, I gathered my courage to tell him how I felt. We were hanging out at my flat, watching the television program Being Human on the telly. Mohammed sat next to me, truly absorbed in the show. It was an old episode. The fight between the nerdy Werewolf and that old guy who’s the leader of the Vampires. I looked at Mohammed and he looked so good in his bright red silk shirt and blue jeans. He was really hot. I ‘accidentally’ touched his thigh, and kept my hand there. Mohammed looked at me and I looked at him. I leaned closer. Then I kissed him.
They say the first kiss is the most important one of all. Whoever said that wasn’t lying. Ladies and gentlemen, I saw stars. Mohammed and I began making love right then and there. One minute we were kissing tenderly. Next thing I know, he was on top of me, undressing me hastily. I felt a bit self-conscious about my body but he assured me he found me beautiful. Gently, he began making love to me. Mohammed kissed my lips, and fondled my breasts. He licked the areolas of my tits and I moaned in pleasure. He massaged my breasts while slipping his hand between my thighs. He slid two fingers into my pussy, and began probing me. I cried out as I felt something foreign in my cunt for the first time.
Mohammed fingered my pussy, then he spread my thighs and began licking me. I moaned as he worked his magic on me. Then he put on a condom and rubbed his hard member against my cunt. Gently but firmly, he eased himself inside of me. I gasped as he penetrated me. At long last, I wasn’t a VIRGIN anymore. At the tender age of twenty three, I had my first DICK. Yes! I wrapped my arms around Mohammed’s strong, slender body as he began pounding his cock into my snatch. Mohammed fucked me hard and deep, sliding his cock into my forbidden depths. I cried out in sheer joy and loved it. Oh, it hurt a bit but I wanted it. I craved it. I needed it. And Mohammed definitely gave it to me. He fucked me real good, and left me pleasurably sore. I fell asleep in his arms. My first lover.
After that memorable first lovemaking session, I understandably couldn’t get enough of Mohammed. I was addicted to that man. I had to have him. For him, I converted to Islam. I now dress modestly, long loose dresses and I never leave the apartment without my hijab on. Mohammed has taught me to respect myself and to love my body. We’re getting married in a few months. He loves my big, beautiful body. I allow him unlimited access to me. He’s the first and indeed the only man to fuck me in the ass. The first time it hurt but now I love having his dick in my tight asshole. Mohammed loves it too. We’re happy together. I’m the White Muslim wife-to-be of a Senegalese Muslim gentleman. I don’t care what anybody says. I love my man! I’m that hijab-wearing White chick shouting Allah Akbar!