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I told you - "Wait till we get to the bedroom. I will show you what i am wearing underneath, just for you". But you do not have patience. You make me shy. The only thing i will tell you is that it is red, lacy and matching both on top and bottom. Do not ask for more, please.

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H-sissy Muslimahs have an overwhelming focus on their man's cock. She will love her man immeasurably, but the one thing she is most possessive about, is his cock. It belongs to her and only her. Any other lady who even dares to cast a glance at his crotch will have her face scratched.

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It is all well to claim that I (a H-boi) wanted to be a woman all my life, that I was a woman trapped in a man's body, but truth be said, if it were not for the overpowering masculinity of my M husband & his titillating cock promising unending pleasures, I wouldn't be a Muslimah today.

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Making my M owner addicted to me is my only goal. When he tells me that mine is the hole which is a sheath to his pole, it is a moment of ecstasy. My pleasure comes purely when he climaxes and there is no other place where he wants his seed to settle other than in my womb.

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He offered me the hijab. Meekly, obediently, I accepted.
He was a brilliant, accomplished Muslim man, a true Alpha Male, and he knew what was best for me. He knew the role that I had truly been born to occupy in this life, and it wasn’t the role of a man.
My false, contrived facade of Western masculinity simply crumbled under his gaze. My pretense of being male melted away. And then it was extinguished forever as I fastened the beautiful silken hijab around my head. I accepted. I surrendered.
By wearing the hijab for him, I accepted his Islamic authority over my mind, my body and my soul.
In that moment, my old Western male identity vanished. In its place arose Ameera, obedient and feminized.
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