Fatima Pt. 01: Genevieve

Fatima stripped down to her underwear and put on the robe and slippers provided by the spa. Her masseuse was an Algerian woman of around 50, who had been doing the job for more ten years, ever since her children had grown up. She had been working for the hotel for the past two years, attracted by the staff accommodation which was offered to those who signed long-term contracts. The atmosphere in the room was everything that Fatima might have wished for, the beige and cream colour scheme matching the natural woods that were used: pine, and if she wasn't mistaken, teak. The massage was so relaxing that not more than ten minutes into it she was close to nodding off.

Hunter found himself alone in the pool, happy to be using a counter-current turbine for the first time since he had been living in London when Hayley was growing up. The beauty of such a system is that it allows the swimmer to swim in one spot, much as a treadmill is designed for running on the spot. Hunter decided to go through his full range of strokes in the same order a medley swimmer would follow, that is, butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke and freestyle. Ten minutes on each would give him a thorough workout, he reckoned.

It was while he was on his backstroke leg that he noticed that he was being joined by another swimmer. It was a woman - that much he could tell from her costume, as he peered up through his goggles. He couldn't tell her age, especially as she was wearing a cap, but she certainly filled out her one-piece boyleg swimsuit very nicely, he thought.

'An introduction would be in order at some point,' he said to himself, segueing into the breaststroke segment, as she took her place in the lane two down from his own.

He considered shortening his two remaining disciplines, in case the woman got out of the pool before him, but decided to stick with his original timetable. It would be a pity if she left before he had finished his workout, but it wouldn't do for him to leap out of the pool the second she finished and force an introduction in that way. That would carry the whiff of desperation about it.

As it turned out, his patience was rewarded. She was still doing her elegant front crawl when he came to the end of his routine. Rather than get out of the pool immediately, he leant back against the end wall, well away from the jet, which was not the kind of thing you wanted to use as if it were a hot tub. He caught his breath, looking straight ahead of him, but keeping the woman in his peripheral vision.

He was about to climb out of the water when the woman stopped swimming, sprang up with a little leap, which Hunter intuited was intended for him, took off her goggles and greeted him with a hearty 'Hi!'

'Enjoy your workout?' asked Hunter with a beaming smile - they type that was guaranteed to melt any woman's heart.

'Very much,' she replied with the strong hint of a foreign accent - maybe Middle Eastern.

Her dark grey swimsuit had light grey curved lines on the flanks, which accentuated her voluptuous form. Rather than stare at her, Hunter reckoned introductions were in order.

'I'm Hunter,' he said, wading through the water and extending his hand to her.

'Masoumeh,' she replied simply, taking his hand and giving it the faintest of squeezes.

'You are a very good swimmer,' she added, making a direct appeal to his vanity. 'Did you once do it professionally?'

'Oh, no!' he laughed. 'I'm just an old surf bum from Australia. Misspent most of my youth on a 9-foot surfboard!'

She eyed him with something like curiosity, as if she was trying to place him, but said nothing. Then she took her swimming cap off and shook her head so that her long dark tresses, flecked with grey, fell almost to the level of the water. She was standing just a few feet from him, smiling enigmatically at him, as if she were waiting for him to tell him something more.

'I'm here on honeymoon,' he said, with a smile that he tried hard to ensure didn't come across as knowing or lascivious.

'Ah, yes,' she responded. 'Your wife is the beautiful Asian woman, no?'

Hunter resisted the urge to tell her that she was another beautiful Asian woman and nodded his agreement.

'Guilty as charged,' he joked. 'She's having a massage. We spent the morning visiting old haunts along the coast.'

'So you come here often?' Masoumeh asked him.

'It's the first time for Fatima, but I used to come down here on camping holidays with my first wife and our daughter.'

Masoumeh couldn't help but be impressed by the way Hunter made no effort to hide the fact that he had not always been wealthy enough to afford this type of accommodation. She also appreciated the fact that he asked nothing personal about her. As a reward, she decided to tell him more about her situation than she normally would share with even someone she had met on several occasions.

'My husband and I have been coming here for years now, back when we were still living in Teheran. Of course, when we first came, it was very different. No spa, no infinity swimming pool, no villas with their private pools. We love it at this time of year. Somehow, you get a different class of person than what you have to put up with in the summer season.'

'We only arrived a couple of days ago, but we're enjoying ourselves immensely. The weather is perfect for the sort of things we like doing: cycling, walking a bit, eating beside the beach.'

Masoumeh gave him a whimsical look, which seemed to suggest he had omitted one very important item from his list, then offering him her hand once more told him it had been a pleasure to meet him and perhaps the four of them could have dinner one evening when her husband had returned from Paris. Hunter told her that would be great and climbed out of the pool. It was only when he got to the changing room that he realised he hadn't got her room number, or given her his own.

'No matter,' he told himself. 'After all, she's virtually part of the fabric of the place. She can find our number if she wants to.'

Upon his return to their room, Hunter changed into the clothes he would wear for dinner. That evening, they had decided to try the hotel's fancy French restaurant, having sampled the café on their first evening and finding it to be quite acceptable. He wondered if Masoumeh would be there, but thought not. If she was on her own, it would be more natural for her to order room service, he decided. He suddenly charged himself with not inviting her to join him and Fatima, but then on the other hand he reckoned that that might be showing just a little bit too much interest in her. And, after all, Masoumeh had said that they might dine together once her husband had got back.

While he was thus occupied in these cogitations, Fatima walked in through the door, looking a million dollars.

'My god, darling! What did they do to you? You are positively glowing!'

'I had this wonderful masseuse called Jannat. She could do the most incredible things with her hands. Thank you so much for suggesting it. I would never have thought to do it myself at those prices.'

Hunter sat down in the living room and sorted out the photos he had taken during the day while Fatima dressed for dinner. He was interested to see what she would wear. Would she want to send a statement to the other female residents of the hotel to let them know who was number one? Or would she dress down, or perhaps conservatively? She certainly had enough clothes to choose from. Neither Mia nor Jade had taken with them anything like the number of garments Fatima liked to travel with. The wardrobe had filled so quickly that Hunter had had to call housekeeping for more coat-hangers.

3

When Fatima finally emerged from the bedroom, Hunter's jaw dropped. She was wearing a dark green trouser suit, but that description hardly begins to do the outfit justice. To start at the bottom, she was wearing a pair of ornately decorated light beige high heel shoes of the kind you might see worn by a bride at a wedding on the subcontinent. Above these, she had on a pair of cropped dark green slim-fit trousers, and above these a stunning shirt-cum-jacket in the same colour with gold and silver embroidery on the shoulders and sleeves. An under top with a simple silver striped pattern and a scoop neckline completed the ensemble.

'Wow!' cooed Hunter. 'You look like a princess!'

'Why, thank you,' Fatima replied coyly. 'Let's go dine. I'm famished!'

'Again,' enquired Hunter, who never ceased to be amazed at his wife's appetite.

'Again,' she responded simply.

When they got to the restaurant, they had the choice of sitting outside on the terrace, where heaters had been placed to take the edge off the cooler evening temperatures or inside in the main section. Hunter was about to tell the maître d' that they would sit inside, when Fatima told him she would be fine outdoors.

'I'm plenty warm enough and the fuel will soon warm me either further!'

Touched by his wife's thoughtfulness (she knew he was an outdoor type), Hunter took her hand as they followed the maître d' to their table. Soon a candle had been lit and they were able to take in the magnificent views over the Med on what had turned into a clear evening. Stars were beginning to peak out from their hiding places and would soon be dotting the sky with their patterns. Although he was more familiar with the night sky of the southern hemisphere, Hunter was able to point out one or two of the more prominent constellations.

'Can you navigate by the stars?' she asked him, looking at him with playful lovingness.

'Heavens, no!' he replied. 'I'd be lost without my radar and, more recently, GPS!'

'So you didn't use a sextant?' she added mischievously.

'Just how old do you think I am?!' he responded with mock indignation.

'Old enough to know your way round a chambermaid's body,' she answered, her feet seeking out his - the leather caps of her heels rubbing against his ankles.

'You're not seriously suggesting that I - you know - on our honeymoon?'

'Hasn't the thought crossed your mind?' she asked him, driving the point of her cap harder against his shin.

'No, of course not!' he protested. 'But I repeat I'm absolutely fine with you having a bit of fun with her.'

'On our honeymoon?' she returned, taking the Mickey out of him.

'It's different,' he said in a lowered voice, not wanting the other couples on the terrace to hear their conversation.

'How so?' she continued in her normal voice, seemingly entirely without embarrassment.

'Well, you know, there's no penetration and no exchange of, you know, fluids.'

'I can assure you, darling, that there will be plenty of both. Perhaps you ought to stay around after all and watch.'

'But, I mean it's not being unfaithful, like it would be if I, you know, played around with her.'

'Isn't it? Really? I think you're being very chauvinistic. Maybe we will fall in love and run off together.'

'Look, I'm really not sure that I should stray so early in our marriage. It didn't really work last time out.'

'That was because Jade was a selfish woman, and a sly one. She never really loved you as I do.'

'But if you love me, why do you need to fool about with other women?'

'Okay, then I won't. We'll call the whole thing off. It was silly of me to have suggested it.'

'No, I don't want to be a spoilsport. If it's just a bit of fun, then of course you must go ahead.'

'On one condition only: that you make love to her too. I won't have it any other way.'

'Look, we've been over this already. I don't think it would be prudent.'

'You'll masturbate about her anyway, so why not do it properly and in a more satisfying way, with the girl herself?'

'She mightn't be up for it,' Hunter said, clutching at straws.

'But if she is, will you do it? For me?'

'If I do, I'd like you to be there.'

'Absolutely, honey; we can make it a threesome.'

'Oh, Fatima, you're incorrigible! Come on, we haven't even looked at the menu.'

They spent some minutes considering their options before summoning the waiter and placing their order. Once the food had arrived, Hunter decided to tell Fatima about his encounter with Masoumeh.

'Oh, Hunter, you're a veritable babe magnet,' Fatima cooed. 'Tell me more about her, like how old is she and what does she look like?'

'I'm not very good with ages,' he replied. '40-ish, I suppose.'

'And looks wise?' his wife continued to pester him.

'I would say she was Middle Eastern - Lebanese, perhaps. Something like that, anyway.'

'Is she hot?' Fatima wouldn't be put off.

'Well, of course she was wearing a swimming cap,' Hunter said, conveniently ignoring the fact she had taken it off while talking to him, 'so I couldn't really say. But she seemed to have a nice face, if that's what you mean.'

'What about her body? She wasn't wearing a burqini was she?!'

'You know I don't really notice these details,' said Hunter, who could picture exactly what she was wearing. 'But it was just your average swimsuit.'

'You're not a very good liar,' said Fatima. 'But there's only one way to be sure.'

Reaching under the table she sought out Hunter's manhood, which wasn't much of a task, as it was almost bursting out of his trousers.

'Oh, Hunter! What a naughty boy you are! I turn my back on you for a moment and you're flirting with other women. Am I not woman enough for you?'

'God, Fatima! Let's finish this quickly and go back to the room. I want to fuck you so badly.'

They signed the bill and walked back to their room with an urgency that wasn't part of their normal post-prandial routine. Once they had slammed the door shut, Hunter pinned Fatima against the door and kissed her savagely. Not bothering with her top, he yanked down her trousers and freed his cock from its confinement.

'I'm going to punish you for your lack of respect and your unwarranted accusations,' he told her in a flat voice - most unlike his own.

Fatima purred inwardly, as she prepared to receive his weapon. She knew he would satisfy her even if he came almost immediately. The idea that she could reduce a man of his experience to that kind of state turned her on immensely.

'This is not for your enjoyment,' Hunter reminded his new wife, as he lined his painfully hard penis up against her vagina and prepared to enter her.

He wanted to drive his tool inside her without mercy, but was aware of how painful that might be given her unprepared state. In the event, he needn't have worried; she was more than ready for him. His column slid easily inside her.

'How can we call this punishment if you're desperate for it?' he asked her with mock anger.

Fatima said nothing but looked at him in that way of hers which was guaranteed to send his pulse rocketing. He slammed his full eight inches deep inside her and grabbed her tits. Leaning into her, he started to chew on her nipple. Her head lolled to one side, her mouth open, her breathing coming with increasing difficulty.

'You need to stop teasing me,' he said, coming off her breast. 'To stop talking about me as if I wanted every woman I lay my eyes on. Do you understand?'

Fatima nodded, but her eyes wore a glazed look. Hunter couldn't help himself from giving her more of his mind, even as his weapon thrust back and forth inside her.

'The chambermaid, the mystery woman in the pool - they mean nothing to me. You understand that, don't you?'

Fatima once again nodded, her need to orgasm eclipsing everything else that was happening. Still, she liked to hear Hunter's voice. She wanted him to keep talking - so long as he kept fucking her.

'You can be very disrespectful to me. Do you realise that?'

She nodded once more - this time looking at him with dewy eyes.

'And I don't appreciate the way in which you talk about my ex-wife?'

As if to emphasise this last point, he began to pump her harder, placing his hands on her hips to increase his leverage.

'Do you understand?'

'Yes...oh fuck yes!' Fatima groaned.

'I'm sorry that I must punish you like this, but it is for your own good. You understand, yes?'

'Oh, god! Fuck!'

Knowing that he had tripped her orgasm, Hunter took a deep breath, let out a blood-curdling yell and ejaculated inside her. She remained at the door, impaled on his spear, for several minutes - the weapon showing no signs of contracting.

Hunter was breathing hard. He thought of the maid, then of the exotic lady in the pool, whose name now slipped his mind, and saw himself pulling the gusset of her swimsuit to one side and fucking her in the water. He knew he wasn't finished for the night and that Fatima needed to be taught her lesson to the end, to the bitter end.

After another couple of minutes, when he began to feel his penis weakening, he suddenly withdrew from her vagina and told her to take her top off and kneel on the bed like a dog. His wife did as she was told without a word, awaiting his pleasure, happy in the knowledge that it would be her pleasure too. She had never known Hunter like this and it was so exciting. He so obviously loved it when she trash talked him. All she had to do to derive the absolute maximum of benefit from the pounding she was about to receive was to mention another woman. She decided this time that she would tease him with a prospective object of desire, with a woman he hadn't yet met - a woman of his dreams.

'Tomorrow I'm not going to let you out of my sight, Hunter. I can't trust you around all these middle-aged women. If one so much as bats her eyelashes at you, you'll follow her like a dog to her room. I can imagine one in particular - an Italian Contessa. She will lure you into her suite, lock and bolt the door and have you in handcuffs before you know it. Then she will strip you of your clothes - ripping your shirt in the process - and run her fingernails down your chest. She will watch as your unfaithful penis starts to swell in front of her eyes, growing to proportions that her husband and all her lovers cannot match. You will make a show of resisting her attentions, telling her that you are married to a beautiful wife. She will listen to you and laugh, telling you to save your breath, that all men are the same, that you want to fuck her and will fuck her.'

'She pushes you onto the bed and makes as if to slide down onto your disgustingly hard penis. She says she has had bigger, but that you measure up well against some of her lovers. She undoes your handcuffs so that you are free to overpower her, put on your clothes and leave the room. Instead, you flip her over and start to kiss her - hungrily and with a passion you never show me. You lick her breasts and then her pussy, thinking how sweet it tastes. She tells you that you are showing promise as a lover but wonders whether you will pass the acid test. No man has brought her to orgasm in many years. She has hopes that you will be the man to change all that.'

'You tell her you want to be that man, that she is very beautiful and more worldly wise than your young bride. You have never been as turned on as you are at that moment and want to prove yourself to her. You ask her how she wants you and she tells you to go slowly and be gentle with her. She had been lying earlier. You are bigger (way bigger) than any man she has ever been with.'

'You kiss her sweetly on the lips and she sucks you into her - giving herself to you. She is now your slave to do with as you wish. You ease your penis into her. She gasps and you check if she is okay. She tells you it feels wonderful; she just needs time to adjust to your girth. You slide in and out slowly and softly, going deeper inside her bit by bit, constantly checking how she feels. She tells you that you are the kindest man she has ever met and that she is envious of your young bride.'

'You shush her and tell her that you are all hers at this moment. You kiss again and she surrenders herself to you completely. You check if she can take more of your penis and she says she wants it all. You begin to thrust more powerfully inside her and you can feel that she is spinning off into another world. She is far from orgasming yet; rather, she is being taken to a place she has never even dreamed of. You smile at her and she smiles back.'