Fahima Ch. 01

A huge shout out to my editor caitlin, can't thank her enough.

Some Useful words to know before you read the story:

Hijab- A head covering worn in public by some Muslim women. Essentially a scarf.

Burqa- A outer garment worn by some Muslim women that covers their whole body when in public.

Kuffar- Arabic for "Non-believer".

*****

Fahima Begum sat in front of her bedside mirror unable to concentrate as she struggled to fix her hijab properly. Lately her mind had been plagued by doubts and sinful thoughts that no married Pakistani woman should have, and yet there they were. Fahima had been married to her husband, Ali, for 15 years now, whilst it was a good marriage it was missing something. In 15 years of marriage, Fahima and Ali had not been able to conceive a child. They had visited many different doctors to find out why and they all confirmed, what Fahima knew deep down, that Ali had an extremely low sperm count.

The news shattered both of them and completely broke Ali. Fahima did her best to comfort him, assuring him that she held nothing against him and trying to explain how she loved him even more.

"It's Allah's will, my jaan, there is very little we can do. We can try for adoption," she said to him mustering all the enthusiasm and faith she could.

"Maybe," he replied in a flat tone. You could hear how shattered his heart was by the waver in his voice.

"Nothing is going to change, my jaan, but at least we still have each other," Fahima said with a small smile.

However, 5 years on things began to change. Now at the age of 35, Fahima's marriage had completely changed from the loving and caring one to a distant and hollow thing. Over the years Ali had become withdrawn and distant, focused entirely on his work, he paid little attention to Fahima. Not to mention, their sex life was non-existent. Fahima remembered when they had a very active sex life especially for a Muslim couple.

Fahima missed the truly wild fuck sessions and the way Ali used to dominate her in bed. Despite coming from conservative Muslim families, who believed sex was only for pro-creation and not for pleasure, Fahima and Ali loved sex. They tried all the positions, experimented with toys and had gotten downright filthy in bed. Yet they were still conservative Muslims in every other way. Fahima wore a burqa and hijab when she was in the presence of other men, or when she was out running errands, but when it was just her and Ali she prefered not to wear anything.

Fahima did expect a few things to change for the first year or two as she knew the fact that Ali's inability to give her child had totally devastated him. However, she believed he would get over it eventually and return to his normal self. Yet he buried him self in his work, in an attempt to bury his pain and caused Fahima to take drastic action to get her husbands attention.

She had joined a local, woman's only, gym and in the 5 years that had passed she had developed a hot, toned body. She began to wear figure hugging hijabs that hid nothing and made her 36DD breasts and her perfectly shaped ass stand out more than ever before. In her opinion she looked like a slightly older version of the Bollywood actress Priyanka Chopra.

She did all of this to get her husband's attention, while he barely noticed, she was getting unexpected attention from other men. At first she was shocked but slowly she started to enjoy it. Her firm and tender tits looked even bigger on her 5'3 frame and despite being 35 years old Fahima looked at least 10 years younger. Gym had really helped her keep a tight body, she was an anomaly amongst Pakistani housewives who at the same age had grown fat and ugly while she looked to be in her prime.

She loved the attention all the men paid her when she was teaching Islamic classes at the local Muslim centre. The men adored her and the women hated her for flaunting her assets and stealing their husband's gazes, and also for looking a 100 times better than them. She realized when non-muslim men paid her compliments and admired her openly it excited her. "I'm actually getting turned on," was something she thought to herself often now.

Soon she was dreaming of being fucked by these kuffars over and over again. The first thing she had to do when she woke up in the morning, nowadays, was take of her soaked panties. These dreams and fantasies were sustaining her for now, helping quench the thirst for sex, but soon another thought entered her mind, one that would definitely ruin her marriage. She wanted to turn these dreams of hers into reality.

Fahima sat there her mind in great turmoil. She just couldn't cheat on her husband not only was it morally wrong but religiously as well. She couldn't go against that but deep down she knew that she had already gone against her religion, by intentionally attracting the attention of other men.

Something within her changed over time, a slutty side had awakened in her, a side that craved attention, one that wanted to be fucked by a big kuffar cocks. She also realized that a part of her was rebelling against, not only religion, but the culture that oppressed women told them how to dress, how to look and who to talk to. Whilst this was present in all cultures, it was even more so in Pakistani communities, it was true that with time these views had changed but not in her family.

Her husband never behaved like a typical Pakistani husband, he didn't put any restrictions on her even when the rest of society did. She remembered how hard she had studied for a Law Degree at university, ready to pursue a career in law and being forced to give that up by her parents who then forced her to get married instead. For that she had held a deep grudge against her parents and by going against the things they taught her was a way of getting revenge.

She knew that she should be grateful to Allah that she was given a husband like Ali but her marriage was non-existent now, meaning that there was nothing to be grateful for anymore. Other wives would have stuck through it and been faithful and she knew that she was a bad wife but a part of her didn't care.

"Oh, Allah, please forgive me!" pleaded Fahima.

The doorbell rang snapping Fahima out of her daze. She went downstairs with a big broad smile plastered across her face. She knew who it was and had been waiting for him all morning.

"Hello, Donte," she smiled as she greeted the big black man at her doorway.

"Hey, Fahima, how are you you?" Donte smiled back weakly.

Fahima could sense something was up. She had known Donte for 6 years now after Ali had hired him, as a handyman, to fix the roof for them. Ali and Donte clicked immediately and had become fast friends. They joined the same gym and played football (soccer) together, both of them even supported Arsenal as they were both men from North London. Fahima was wary of Donte at first, being from a conservative Pakistani back ground meant that she was brought up with an almost racist view of black people, she was always told to stay clear of them.

Her initial judgement of Donte passed as she got to know him and discovered his friendly and witty side. He too had studied Law at university and he pursued a career in it for awhile but he faced a highly judgmental world, one that judged him solely on his appearance, people always thought he looked too brutish or thuggish. They formed a bond quickly calling themselves the 'almost lawyers'. They had developed a really close connection and would spend hour after hour talking about all the different law policies debating with one another, which always bored her husband. Donte was also married but the couple had never met his wife, and whenever they told Donte to bring her around to their home he would always come up with an excuse. Fahima sensed that Donte's wife was clearly not fond of the idea of meeting them.

Without even realizing, Fahima had developed an attraction to this strapping 6'5 of a hulking giant. He towered over her and made her look even smaller. She remembered the time he came round to help clean up the garden on an extremely hot day. He took his top off revealing his perfectly sculpted black body and

Fahima could not stop herself from staring. Her eyes feasted on him taking in every inch, her eyes always lingered on his crotch, because she had heard from one of her Somalian friends that black men had big dicks. But she couldn't tell if he did or not.

He had noticed her looking at him but he never brought it up, he played it off like a non-incident. In recent months he had taken a keen interest in Islam and was seriously contemplating converting to the religion. So he had come to Fahima asking her if she would teach him about the religion and teach him the Qu'ran. She agreed to do so and her husband did not object either, infact he was happy that one of his good friends was thinking of converting to a Muslim. Helping non-Muslims find Islam is a great honour, but Fahima had other motives for agreeing to these lessons.

She would be able to spend some alone time with Donte without having to worry about her husband being suspicious. She knew that by doing this she was committing a great sin, essentially using her religion to spend time with a man that was not her husband in the hopes of sleeping with him.

Recently she had noticed Donte looking at her with great interest she had caught him a few times looking at her ass, letting her know that her tight burqa's were working. She knew that he found her attractive after all he was always showering her with praise and, as of late, he just couldn't keep his eyes off her. Even when her husband was in the room he would ogle at her. She had noticed him staring at her breasts during their lessons, he was paying more attention to her tits than the lessons. She often thought if he was using these lessons like her, to get close to someone without the suspicion of a spouse, but she quickly dismissed it. Unlike her, he was a good man who loved his wife dearly and he always gushed about her.

Fahima concluded that all men free roam with their eyes, she had seen Ali do it despite him being a 'devout' Muslim. She so desperately wanted to make some sort of move on Donte during these past 3 months but she had been struggling with the part of her who still wanted to be a faithful wife and Muslim.

However, today the slutty side was out in full force and she had made up her mind that today she was going seduce Donte. Well, that was the plan until she saw the sadness in his eyes, she had never seen him so sad before. All those thoughts, for the moment, had been pushed to the side.

"Are you okay, Donte?" Fahima asked with genuine concern as they sat down on the sofa to start the lesson.

"Yeah...I am, don't worry," he replied unconvincingly.

"No, you're not, Donte. Tell me what's wrong. Look at me!" Fahima demanded, she was getting more and more worried.

Donte looked at Fahima with misty eyes, she could see that he was desperately determined to hold the floodgates closed. Seeing him like this hurt Fahima deeply. She took his giant black hands in hers and squeezed them, hoping that it would help him open up.

"I told my wife that I wanted to convert to Islam and become a Muslim. I expected her to be shocked but her reaction was far worse than I ever imagined... she left me," he said barely holding back the tears now.

Fahima stared at him with her mouth agape. She found it hard to believe that any woman would leave such a sweet and caring man like Donte, especially when he spoke of her in such high regard. She didn't know what to do so she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Instead of thinking about how she should feel sorry for him, all Fahima could think about was the fact that she could feel his chiselled body, the one she had been craving for months, against her.

"I miss her so much, Fahima, so much," Donte whispered, his voice cracking.

"Dont worry Donte, I'll take care of your every need. Soon you'll forget her." Fahima said almost purring as she looked him straight in the eye and placed her hands on his crotch. She had no idea what she was doing

"Umm...what are you doing, Fahima?" asked Donte, who was yanked from his sorrow by pure shock.

"Taking care of you," Fahima moaned as she placed her lips on his.

Fahima knew that she had crossed a line; that she was going against everything she believed in. There was no going back now, and that was perfectly fine with her. The fact that she was taking advantage of Donte when he was in such a state was not lost on her, all she knew was that this was the right time to make her move. She sensed that Donte was hesitant as he tried to pull away from her kiss, but she didn't let him.

She thought about how badly she wanted him as her tongue penetrated his mouth, their tongues intertwined in a slow and passionate dance together. Fahima could feel the ever growing bulge in Donte's jeans, it was a sign that he was enjoying it. Any resistance he held onto was gone now, which excited Fahima even more. His huge hands were groping her breasts, kneading them. She felt both his hands grip the front of her burqa. And the next thing she felt was his hands yanking at the material and ripping it apart down the front, completely exposing her breasts. He then pulled her bra off with another hard tug, which caused her some pain. Fahima was shocked and excited by the ferocity that Donte was displaying and her cunt was dripping wet. Donte was looking at her fully exposed tits, admiring them openly, when she realized no one had ever seen them except her husband. Soon his mouth was on her breasts them with an insatiable hunger, his tongue swirling relentlessly around her hardened nipples.

"Oh, Alllaahhh," moaned Fahima in the throes of ecstasy. She had never felt such pleasure as Donte continued to devour her tits. She could feel Donte's cock straining against his jeans, it felt like it was going to burst out of the jeans.

"I want to see your cock." she said in between moans.

Donte got up from the couch and began to undo his belt buckle and, without missing a beat, Fahima got on her knees looking up at Donte with fierce hunger in her eyes. Soon Donte's jeans were around his ankles and Fahima could see the outline of his huge black cock, just seeing the outline of the monster sent a shiver down her spine and made her cunt quiver in anticipation. Donte finally pulled his boxers down, freeing his big black cock of its restraints.

"Ouch!" screamed Fahima as Donte's big black pole smacked her on the face.

"It's so big!" she said in shock and awe at the big veiny black monster on her face. She reached out her unexperienced hands and grabbed the massive black cock.

The thing was gigantic. Fahima guessed that his cock must have been nearly twelve inches long. It was the thickness of the black monster that was truly awe inspiring, it was as big as her wrist maybe even bigger. The head of his bulbous cock was huge too, and his shaft was covered with large veins that somehow made it look like a powerful pulsating tool.

"Suck it!" he commanded slapping her with his cock. It snapped her out of her daze as he grabbed the back of her hijab and pulled her mouth closer to his cock.

Fahima was feeling guilty, her husband didn't deserve a cheating wife like her. Instead of sticking by his side she was about to have her mouth stuffed by a huge black cock. She hesitated for a beat before she took the huge head in her mouth. It was too big, she was already struggling and she only had the head in her mouth. But she continued to suck the fat head in her mouth and bobbed her head over it. The guilt was still there, eating her up inside, she had barely resisted but Donte's cock was just too big to pass up.

Fahima opened her mouth even wider to try and accommodate more of Donte's cock. She enveloped the giant black monolith inch by inch into her mouth, her jaw aching. She finally had the whole cock in her mouth, she felt the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke. Fahima looked up at Donte to see him smiling at her. Seeing him enjoying this spurred her on even more and she began to suck his cock like a sex crazed woman.

"Your cock is so beautiful... so big... so black," Fahima groaned between planting kisses on it as she gripped his manhood with both hands. She loved running her hand up and down along the shaft and feeling the weight of the monster.

Fahima felt Donte's hands on her hijab while he forced the last few inches of his black monster in to her mouth. He began to thrust his big black cock in and out of her mouth but her lips seemed to resist his back thrusts. She wanted him to stay deep in her mouth as she loved the salty taste of his cock on her tongue. Her nostrils were full of his odour as his pubic hair brushed against her nose. She felt his heavy balls slapping against her chin as he thrusted deeper and faster. She couldn't believe that she had successfully taken this twelve inch monster into her mouth. She fought off the urge to gag and continued to take his delicious black cock in her mouth.

"That's it, Fahima, take it like a slut!" He bellowed as her mouth foamed with saliva while he continued to pound her mouth with his huge pole.

No one had ever called a slut before, instead of being offended by it it actually turned her on more. She felt his hands grabbing her hair through her hijab and pulling her with pure strength. She grabbed his rock hard ass and pushed him even deeper into her throat with a renewed vigour despite the fact that her breath was becoming short. She was sure that she couldn't go on any longer without passing out but still she continued taking his cock in her mouth.

"Fahima, I'm so close, you slut, so close, keep taking it like a good little Muslim whore!" Donte shouted at her as she felt his cock swelling.

Once again, instead of being offended by Donte's comments she felt her cunt spasm in delight. Apparently she loved getting degraded and had no idea until now. She knew that she was too far gone now. She would never be able to go back to being the woman she was.

"OH FUCK, HERE IT COMESSS!!" howled Donte finally releasing his load.

Not only did the force of his ejaculation snap Fahima out of her train of thought, but it stung like hell, and her mouth filled before she had time to react. Fahima began to gag and spat the cock out of her mouth, receiving a spurt of cum before she began coughing out semen when her mouth began to overflow. She was completely drenched by his cum it was on her hijab, face, eyes and nose. Donte then deposited one final load in her mouth which she swallowed like a hungry slut.

"How was that?" Fahima asked in a coy tone as she wiped the cum from her eyes and rubbing his cock on her face.

"The best I've ever had. Who knew you were such a great cock sucker, but that's not what you want to hear is it? You want to know if you're better than my wife." He replied laughing.

"Yes, that's all I want to know," she nodded as she stuck her tongue out to lick the head of his cock.

"How about I return the favour first and then answer that question," he said as he picked her up and placed her on the sofa. While lifting her burqa she spread her legs open in anticipation of what was coming. Donte stopped her hands.

"Leave it on, it will serve as a reminder to you of what a Muslim slut you are. Oh look, you like being called a Muslim slut, look how wet your cunt is getting. You want this black cock in your tight little Muslim cunt don't you," he taunted her laughing.

Fahima felt a little guilty and shy. Guilty because there was man who was not her husband looking at her naked body. A few hours ago the only man to have seen her completely naked was her husband. Now here she was completely naked in front of this giant black man who was feasting upon her body with his eyes. She realized that she had not taken of her cum drenched hijab, as she put her hand on the clip to take it off she felt Donte's hand on hers.