My Secret App Match

My name is Leyla and I am a 24-year-old unmarried virgin Muslim woman. I’ve been described as the model Muslim young woman, despite living in a Western country. My prim and proper exterior and behavior is evident to the locals as well. Everyday, I seek to respect my family and faith through my actions. I dress modestly to avoid lustful glances from men, I rigidly observe my halal and teetotal diet, avoid situations that could lead to impropriety such as adultery and never commit actions with the intention of attracting attention.  

Throughout my time at university, I have not been allowed to fraternize with men in any context. Living at home in a traditional, multi-generational family, men, attraction and desire are illicit themes. My Western friends can’t comprehend that I have a curfew, that I can’t go clubbing, date men, or have any casual hookups.  

Due to the all encompassing Covid lockdown, I have been slowly losing my mind. With each and every lengthy passing day, I am becoming increasingly jealous of my Western friends. All of my female friends have moved in with their boyfriends without their family objecting. None of them are unhappy during this lockdown—they’re proudly recounting stories of their cute at-home dates. Now we can add jealousy to my growing list  of sins…  

After three months cooped up indoors with nothing but domestic chores to entertain me, I have started to falter, despite my perfect record, in adhering to the ‘no socializing with men’ rule. I want male attention. No, I need male attention. I have reached my sexual boiling point. As I lay in bed battling pervasive insomnia, all I can think about is how wide awake I am in multiple senses. Staring at the blank ceiling, I can feel my whole body radiating, just like my mind. I sigh at how profoundly empty my double bed feels with just my petite body occupying a small space.  

I crawl over to grab my phone from the side table to occupy my wandering mind. I open my browser and stare at the search engine front page. Despite needing permission to leave the house, the digital world is my oyster. I search for something I never imagined I would: dating apps. I download the most popular app and create a profile for myself.  

“Leyla: age 24, 5ft, Muslim, rarely exercises, non-smoker and non-drinker, apolitical, postgraduate degree, looking for men and interested in a relationship.’’  

Multiple times as I am filling in my details I pause to review the laundry list of potential scandals that could arise. What if someone I know sees my profile? What if non-Muslim men see my profile? What will happen to my family’s and my own reputation? I ponder. Hmm, identity fraud and impersonation are common these days. That’ll be my back up plan. My sexual desire overrides my anxiety, and I begin swiping on member’s profiles.  

Seeing ‘looking for men’ on my screen makes me feel a rush of shame but also a tingle of arousal. I’m on the prowl for something I’m not even allowed to want—to be near a man. I feel so deviant swiping to say ‘yes’ to handsome young white men. As a first generation Arab, it is an unspoken rule that I will marry a fellow Arab Muslim from our home country. I come across a profile of a handsome Indian man and linger for a moment admiring him and then swipe to indicate my interest. Oh, how my family would be livid, I hear reverberating inside my head. Feeling content with my outlandish exploration, I return to sleep with a strong sense of intrigue.  

I wake up and spend the whole day sneaking around the house swiping on men that would be completely inappropriate to my conservative family. Surprisingly, I start receiving notifications of matches on the app. To my impish joy, I’m matched with the Indian man that caught my eye last night. Between my chores I try to reply to his messages without my facial expressions giving me away. Over the following week, we text often and have two video call “dates” under the guise of “important interviews”. Having such a thrilling secret to hide from my family and friends finally starts to quell my extreme boredom and isolation.  

The highlight of my monotony is my upcoming third virtual date with my secret app match. I’m so looking forward to seeing more of his handsome face and hearing his alluring voice. Following my intense afternoon university lectures, I collapse on my bed. Worn-out and fed up with studies, my mind wanders to my attractive and intelligent Desi crush, AJ. In the rare family chats I’ve had regarding husband qualities, it is frowned upon how Western women long for captivating and sexy men. Reading AJ’s profile, I notice his biodata including his significant 6’1’’ height. Though I’ve never been involved with a man, the thought of one so tall and manly is exciting.

I’ve saved his profile pictures and I scroll through them, smiling as I look at his dark seductive eyes behind his rimless glasses, his dark wavy hair and his pale yet tanned skin. My eyes land on his sensuous looking lips. I imagine what it might be like to lean forward, rise to my tiptoes and kiss him once, then maybe again to get a better taste. What an invigorating sensation! I close my eyes and imagine my tongue meeting his—in my mind, AJ is a very sensual kisser with his delectable looking mouth.  

I’m getting so worked up as I imagine kissing those pale caramel lips and caressing his smooth cheek, then running my fingers through his dark wavy hair. I allow the delights of sexual longing to wash over my body, something I have never welcomed before. I want to push him back into the sofa and climb up to allow myself to straddle him, a tall, sturdy, attractive man before me. I’d slide forward, my thick thighs on either side of his legs and my small body pressed against him. I sigh as my aching breasts longing for touch press against his chest—it is exhilarating. I’d lean forward and take his lips in mine, relishing the forbidden closeness I've never experienced before. Our kisses become more passionate, and I begin to imagine how his tender lips could please other parts of my body…  

My breathing is becoming agitated and as I collect my thoughts, I realize the warmth and wetness between my thighs. I gently slide my left hand into my panties and groan softly at the touch. I close my eyes and picture AJ breaking our deep kisses and diverting to kiss my cheek hurriedly, then taking my earlobe between his lips and savoring it. I’d drop my head against his smooth cheek and moan softly into his ear. Kisses and nibbles on my earlobe send waves of relentless pleasure across my body.  

From the delicious teasing, AJ would feel the warm wetness permeating between my thighs and I’d gently start to rock at his teasing touch. I’m breathless from the way his agile lips trail from my ear down my supple neck then across my collarbone. He lingers there, kissing and trying to stretch the neckline of my blouse to kiss my soft untouched skin. I take his hands in mine and together begin pulling off my blouse. I sit on his lap in only my skirt, bra and damp panties and for a moment he surveys the landscape before him. I’m relaxed yet alert, letting his eyes pour over my body while his hands and lips caress my skin.  

Without warning, AJ puts his hand around my back softly and pulls my soft breasts straight to his lips. My head hangs backward as he continues to lay wet kisses across my chest, eventually placing kisses on the small mounds hiding in my bra. I’m starting to melt before him as he unclasps my bra for the first time. My breasts bounce out of the push-up bra, my hardened nipples beg for his fingers and lips. As we kiss, he softly traces his fingers up and down my erect nipples. Each time he caresses them, I can only moan back into his lips. When he takes them between his lips, I feel a surge of pleasure. I grab tightly onto his upper back with one hand and the other pulls his head deeper to my breast, which is burning for him.

He looks into my dark eyes seeing how helpless I'm becoming. My rocking hips start undulating until I'm bucking wantonly on his thigh as he continues to suck on my nipples. My small hands dig into him as I hold him tighter. I’m moaning from the stimulation and then unexpectedly a scream escapes as I dissolve into pleasure with my nipple in his mouth.  

My fingers have gone from gently stroking my wet slit to working my swollen, soaking wet clit, desperate for relief. A moan slips my lips as I envision AJ throwing me from his lap onto my back on the sofa. He’d crawl over the top of me and growl while unbelting himself. He’d hoist up my tight skirt, stroke my breasts and then slide himself deeply into my wetness. My eyes roll back as I take a man inside me for the very first time—slowly, deeply. 

"Do you like that Leyla, darling?" he’d ask, smiling in anticipation.  

“Ohh AJ….’’ I murmur, weakly. I begin whimpering and moaning more intensely in rhythm with AJ’s pulsing, feeling so full and overwhelmed by pleasure. 

"Get ready darling," he groans, as his thrusting becomes increasingly intense. “Yes baby,’’ I barely muster as my eyes fixate on his.  

I am bucking along with him with an urgent purpose as he penetrates me so deeply. I want the permeating feeling of contentment and relief that only he can soothe me with. He lifts me up slightly, wraps his arms behind my shoulders and lets loose on my body. My whole life I have been dreaming of being wanted and lusted over like this by an attractive man. I want to be seen as worthy of desire and I want to happily succumb to his lustful impulse. 

"Come with me Leyla, my dear," he moans.  

I wail his name, and my eyes roll back in ecstasy as his thrusts make me feel full and complete in every way I've longed for.  

Once my breathing settles, I realize my phone is ringing. I throw a nice blouse over myself and leave my damp panties on. I smile as I see his face on the screen:  

"Hello AJ,” I say, sweetly and pleasantly with my very flushed cheeks.