Emma Ch. 30bybradley_stoke©
Amna always felt that her best course of action was to retire to her own room when Aunt Salim invited her friends around. She felt sure that none of her aunt’s friends would much enjoy the presence of a teenage girl, particularly one who now habitually spent her time in the house in the nude. Her nudity seemed quite natural when only Aunt Salim was there, but she felt that it wouldn’t be quite right in front of her aunt’s friends, even if they did dress like her in skimpy lingerie.
Amna was sitting in the toilet, waiting for the shit she felt pushing hard against her anus to finally release itself. Recent exertions in the cause of erotic cinema had rather upset her excretory functions: making it sometimes quite painful to shit and sometimes tightening up muscles inside her that made her shits harder to achieve. Finally however the inevitable occurred and, dismissing all memories of the large man who’d been buggering her earlier today, she felt that merciful release she’d been striving for.
She stood up, flushed the loo, washed her hands and opened the door to the bathroom to be rather astonished by the sight of Fatima, one of her aunt’s closer friends, who was standing outside in her stockings and silk. Fatima was relatively young, in her later twenties, and had apparently been married and divorced already in her life. Although her devotion to Islam was unquestionable, she always seemed rather more fun to Amna than some others of her aunt’s friends who had never really managed to address her in any way that made her feel at all respected. Fatima was, however, rather astonished by Amna’s naked appearance. Her eyebrows were raised high and she gave rather an embarrassed laugh after noticing that she’d been staring at Amna’s nudity for rather too long. She hurriedly rushed into the bathroom while an almost equally embarrassed Amna returned to her bedroom and the magazine she’d been reading.
Amna enjoyed the privacy of her own bedroom even though she so rarely slept there these days. She liked the sense of having her own space where she could lie on the bed surrounded by images of her beloved Susan and where she could smoke the cigarettes that despite her aunt’s disapproval she had recently taken up. Most of the other girls she worked with smoked. It eradicated some of the taste of semen and saliva from the mouth and it helped to relax muscles lower down. She’d also heard that it helped to reduce weight and this was something that she was beginning to be more anxious about as she became more focused on her marketable assets in the fuck film industry.
She was rather annoyed when she heard a timid knock on the door and saw her aunt poke her head round.
“Are you all right, Amna sweetheart?” Aunt Salim asked. “Fine! Fine!” Said Amna aware of the faint aroma of tobacco but glad she’d stubbed it out several minutes before.
“Do you want to come downstairs to join Fatima and me?”
“Oh, Amna dearest. It’s just that Fatima was saying that it was so sad that you had to stay upstairs when she’s visiting. She was saying that it seemed so unfair on you to be stuck up here all alone.”
“I’m okay here!” Amna insisted, but felt sufficiently curious to put on the silk kimono her aunt had bought her and follow her to the living room where Fatima was sitting reading one of her aunt’s woman’s magazines. The article appeared to be something about sex and sanitary towels. Fatima smiled as Amna sat down.
“That’s a lovely kimono you’ve got on, Amna,” she complimented her friend’s niece with a broad smile. “But Salim tells me that you don’t normally wear quite as much as that. Normally you don’t wear anything.”
Amna nodded. What had Fatima and her aunt have been talking about. “A lot of clothes don’t fit me so well. I’ve just been growing too big up here,” she said indicating her chest.
“I’m sure you have! Can we see?”
“Sorry?” Wondered Amna. What was her aunt’s friend suggesting?
“Fatima’s just wondering if we could see how much your breasts have grown,” Aunt Salim elucidated. “Come on, Amna, you can’t be too shy about showing her. After all you show your body to strange people every day.”
“It’s not the same thing!” Amna replied, but nevertheless she opened her kimono so that her breasts were revealed to Fatima. They were certainly getting larger, but Amna was beginning to think they weren’t getting large enough. She’d already started asking other girls with whom she was working how their breasts had managed to be as large as they were, and although their answer that it was by surgical enhancement had at first troubled her, the idea was beginning to seem not so bad. Fatima was clearly quite impressed by Amna’s breasts as they were.
“Your niece is so beautiful!” Gasped Fatima. “I can see now why you’re so very fond of her. Perhaps I can understand better how you can feel strongly towards her and not at all towards men.” “Amna is beautiful!” Reiterated Aunt Salim, standing behind her niece and easing the kimono off so that Amna stood naked in front of Fatima. “And so hairy too! Look at all this!”
Amna was feeling quite helpless but flattered as well as Aunt Salim and Fatima admired her body and her aunt took advantage of the situation to run her fingers over her body to Fatima’s apparent approval. She also felt somehow that she was taken advantage of in a more basic manner; a feeling which rather grew as Fatima was shown and praised every facet of Amna’s body that her aunt chose to point out. It seemed so inevitable that her aunt’s tongue should soon join with hers and the two were caressing on the sofa with Fatima still looking on in apparent approval. Amna protested slightly when her aunt’s hands strayed over her breasts and tweaked a nipple in her fingers.
“What will Fatima think?” She gasped, but her aunt had other ideas and engulfed her protests with a deeper kiss. She appeared even more emboldened and her hands found their way between Amna’s legs and started stimulating Amna’s clitoris. Aunt Salim gasped with the passion that was driving through her body. Amna could feel the ecstatic twitch of the muscles in her thighs as they gave vent to the low-level orgasms that her aunt had become quite adept at. Aunt Salim’s clothes had somehow also disappeared, although Amna couldn’t remember an occasion where either she or her aunt had actually removed them. Amna enjoyed the feel of her aunt’s body against hers. It was so much better and more relaxed than the physical exertions she endured in the cause of making a living. But wasn’t there something very wrong about making love while being watched by Fatima? She pushed herself off her aunt to see what Fatima was doing and felt both disappointed and relieved to see that Fatima was certainly not where she had been sitting before. Perhaps she’d been so disgusted by her aunt’s assault on her body that she’d left in a hump. Feeling more relaxed in the apparent absence of her aunt’s friend she allowed herself to become more attentive to Aunt Salim’s needs: swivelling her body round so that she could embed her tongue in her aunt’s clitoris.
It was at that stage that she felt the presence of not one but two tongues playing around in her crotch in amongst the furry mass of pubic hair. She turned her head round and saw what she’d dreaded but had somehow knew to be likely all along. There was the naked slim and light brown body of Fatima trailed over her buttocks, her fingers and tongue playing agitatedly in her crotch. Amna didn’t know what to think. What did this willing sharing of her body between two friends mean in relation to her aunt’s feelings towards her? If her aunt was happy for Fatima to make love to her did that mean she was viewed just as a sex toy and secondarily as a lover?
Fatima was however a somewhat better and demonstrably more experienced lover than her aunt, and Amna enjoyed the sex far more than any she’d had before either on the film set or previously with her aunt. She didn’t want it to stop, as Fatima’s fingers probed and explored while simultaneously stimulating her clitoris, anus or nipples. And when they eventually did stop, collapsed in a sweaty heap on the living room floor, faces flushed with passion and guilt, Amna knew that although she’d still not obtained the orgasmic release her new profession had taught her to desire, she would still be quite happy to return to the embracing that she’d so recently enjoyed. And, as it happened, it took relatively little effort for Amna to reinitiate events starting this time with Fatima’s perky small breasts and the tiny well-formed toes at the end of her slim angular legs.
The following day, Amna wasn’t that surprised when she returned home to her aunt’s flat after an afternoon looking round the shops to find her aunt and Fatima embracing on the sofa in the living room: tongues deep inside each other’s mouths and hands probing around the breasts and vagina. Amna didn’t even really feel that jealous. Her career had by now reduced the effects of that, although it did cross her mind to wonder what her rôle in her aunt’s sex life might now be. Perhaps, she thought in an unfocused way, she might be sleeping in her own bed tonight. It did annoy her though that she wouldn’t be able to play the compact discs she’d just bought on her aunt’s somewhat better audio system and would have to use her own somewhat cheaper and less impressive one.
She wandered along to her room, and threw herself and her purchases onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her tee-shirt and lowered her jeans and knickers to her ankles and with a few energetic kicks tossed them across the room onto the loose pile of clothes where she kept most of what she chose to wear these days. She placed a compact disc in the machine, and gyrated to the music while removing the last few items of clothing she still had on. She always felt happy after shopping. All those hours in the boutiques and record stores, picking, choosing, comparing. And after all that the pleasure of returning home and admiring the rewards of her labours. She took a cigarette out of the packet, tapped it unnecessarily on the side and lit it. She then spread the length of her body, front down on the soft down of her duvet, now much the worse for the cigarette ash and the odd burn mark, with a copy of Dream Girl, the teen magazine she’d bought from a newsagent. It was the usual sort of magazine she read: full of pictures of semi-clad boys rather more attractive than the ones who fucked her at work, interspersed with articles on contraception, menstruation, astrology and examination stress. She particularly enjoyed doing the questionnaires. Am I a great fuck? she posed herself, while awarding herself points in a questionnaire which decided for her that perhaps she wasn’t a great fuck, although she wasn’t really that bad.
She then heard a knock knock on the door. Annoyed, Amna jumped up. What could her aunt want now? Why couldn’t she leave her be! She stubbed out the cigarette she’d been smoking; resolving to return later to the half-inch or so that was left. She opened the door and was surprised to see Fatima, looking rather flushed in a full set of lingerie but missing her knickers. She seemed both quite excited and quite unhappy.
“Can I come in, Amna sweetest?” Fatima asked.
Amna nodded petulantly. What a drag! She tucked her magazine away, and rather regretted now stubbing out her cigarette. Amna didn’t care what Fatima thought of her smoking. Her aunt’s friend sat down on the chair opposite Amna, pressed her chin against the tip of fingers set in a praying position and smiled at Amna.
“Your aunt and I have been talking about your career...” Fatima began.
“It’s a job. It earns me money. What’s wrong with it?”
“Your aunt doesn’t like it very much. But that’s beside the point. My view is that you’re not doing as well at it as you could be. Salim’s told me about how much you get paid, and, if you don’t mind me saying so, it sounds like chickenshit. All that fucking, and you’re barely earning what a high class prostitute gets in a single night. You could be performing in straight repertory theatre and be earning just as much. What you earn now might seem good, but you’re not really paying the rent or mortgage you’d have to do if you weren’t living with your aunt. Let alone the bills for all the utilities. My opinion is that you really are not maximising your potential earnings.”
Fatima’s view was uncomfortably close to one that had occurred to Amna when she was working on the set of Filipino Fuck Fun and felt that she was getting fucked just as much as her colleagues and getting nothing like the rewards they were. She’d thought that maybe it was because she was the only one who wasn’t Filipino, but she knew that couldn’t be the only reason.
“I’m a saleswoman by trade,” Fatima continued. “I sell perfumery, lingerie, make-up, that sort of thing. But I’ve also sold computers, dictionaries, garden furniture and photocopiers. I know about selling. I know what it takes to get a product to shift and to maximise returns. What you need, Amna dearest, is an agent. And although your aunt isn’t too keen to do so, I’m willing to act as one for you.”
Amna sneered scornfully. “You’re not going to do that for nothing, are you? There must be something in it for you.”
“Well, yes. Ten percent initially. Rising to twenty, when we get things moving. But there’s good money in fuck films. And I’m quite interested in getting a stake in it. Salim might hope that you’ll grow out of it, but I don’t see why you can’t just make as much as you can from what you’re going to do anyway. What do you think? I’m sure I can enhance your earnings quite substantially.”
Amna sighed. “I’m not sure! I don’t know what to think!” She looked across at a poster of her beloved Susan for guidance, knowing full well that none would be forthcoming. Fatima followed her gaze, and smiled in apparent approval.
“She’s a very pretty girl, isn’t she? Are you a fan?”
Amna nodded sadly. “She’s why I’m in fuck films.”
“Oh you poor darling!” Exclaimed Fatima, appearing to understand more than she possibly could from this brief exchange. She stood up and walked over to the bed. She lay down on it next to Amna, her long thin legs stretched out beyond Amna’s and her satin supported breasts pressed against Amna’s back. “You poor sweetheart!” She continued running her manicured nails along Amna’s spine. She then, with a touch of boldness, put her hand between Amna’s legs and brushed her pubic hairs. Amna made no response. She looked towards the poster of Susan, a penis deep inside her cunt and another probing at an angle into her mouth.
Fatima became increasingly bolder, and soon Amna could no longer feign indifference. She turned round, remembering the pleasure of their one previous time of lovemaking and pushed her tongue deep inside Fatima’s mouth, visualising Susan as she did so. Fatima gasped deeply and vocally, pulled off her bra as she did so, briefly dangling it over Amna’s naked buttocks and then dropping it onto the now crumpled copy of Dream Girl. Fatima was definitely a much more spirited lover than her aunt, Amna decided as the two rolled over and over, more of Fatima’s underwear being shed on the way, crumpling the empty plastic shopping bags and discarded magazines as they did so.
They had been making love for several minutes before Amna noticed her aunt standing by the slightly ajar door watching the two of them, mouth to genitals, hair between teeth. She looked as if she had been crying, and getting no pleasure at all in watching the two of them at play. Amna detached herself from Fatima whom she suspected had noticed Aunt Salim long before her and had simply ignored her. Fatima smiled at her friend.
“Fatty! How could you?” Gasped Aunt Salim in a kind of sob.
“Sally! Don’t worry. I’ll be with you soon. Just wait. I told you that when I make my mind up to do something, I do it.”
Aunt Salim nodded, and carefully shut the door behind her, leaving Fatima and Amna engaged in lovemaking for several hours more. Amna found herself feeling much more strongly towards her slender lover, with the sharp angles of her knees and elbows, the round breasts rising so well formed from a chest in which her ribs could be seen (unlike Amna’s which could never be distinguished except by touch). The feel of her perfectly formed nipples and the slight boniness of her buttocks. However, Amna wasn’t too surprised, when after relaxing for several minutes in each other’s postcoital embrace, Fatima collected up her underwear and left her alone for the rest of the evening.
This was in fact the first night Amna had had at home by herself in her own bed for a very long time. She knew that Fatima and her aunt were sharing the same bed, and she knew that there was no part for her to play in their lovemaking tonight. As she nestled down with the last few minutes of Paris Grey booming from her speakers, she gazed at her favourite poster of Susan and reflected on her lovemaking with Fatima. It somehow made it easier for her to confront the following day when she was sure she’d have to endure yet more anal penetration from the fat Filipino who was the main star in her present production. Perhaps with Fatima’s help she would gain more for her not inconsiderable physical pains.