“You were as a child when I found you,” he said. “An adult body but in mind a chil
“You were as a child when I found you,” he said. “An adult body but in mind a child. A child pretending to be a man.” I nodded in agreement. I had long since found myself in complete agreement with anything he said. Anything and everything. Even before he offered me the hijab. “Now you are where you belong. You are feminine and pretty, and your true beauty is reserved for me and me alone,” he said. I blushed. I had once pretended to be a man, even a masculine man, a husband and father, but he recognized the girl in me and my true, inner feminine nature could not resist his words. He thinks I am feminine! Pretty! No matter how many times I hear such things from him, it makes me fall for him all over again. “When I offered you the hijab,” he said, “I already knew that you would accept it. You were confused, but you could not betray your true nature.” He then closed the distance between us, cupped my chin, placed his arm around my waist. I gasped, my body yielding to him so naturally. “Your pretty blue eyes have been opened to the truth of Islam, my beauty. They have opened to your destiny as my woman. As my muslimah. As my obedient wife.” My lips began to form the word “yes,” but I was silenced, silenced as his lips crashed into mine, claiming them, subsuming them just as he had subsumed my long-forgotten masculinity, my false Western identity, any thoughts I had ever had of being somehow heterosexual. I was his how and thankful for it. Beneath my flowing skirt, my locked-away penis throbbed in its silver cage as he pressed against me, my smooth and perfumed body molded against his strong, muscled, masculine frame. He melted me with his kiss, with this kiss just as he had the first time he kissed me. I was dressed as a male that first time he kissed me, in my male costume as he called it. I could only moan softly as his hand came up to cup the back of my head, on my silken hijab, and lock me into our deep and souful kiss. My heart belonged to him now, and he knew it, and always knew that it would. My hands, now with manicured nails, with slender rings on my fingers, with bangles on my wrists, went around his neck. Once he opened my mind to the light and truth of Islam and to his inescapable, irresistible masculine Muslim authority, my body could not help but follow. My body, my mind, my very soul. I surrendered in his arms, surrendered to his kiss, and allowed him to lead me, now as the first time, and would forever more. -- source link
#sexual jihad