Fatima Pt. 03: Masoumeh

For the moment, Fatima was content to let her fingers do the work. She knew that Masoumeh wanted them deep inside her, driving her to orgasm, but that didn't suit her purpose at all. She had already set her stall out: she wanted the proud woman to beg her, with words and actions, by every means possible.

With Masoumeh whimpering and wriggling and Hunter masturbating like a motherfucker, the only person in the room who retained any measure of control was Fatima, and her control was total. Using the pads of her fingers, she continued to rub her labia, the outline of which became more pronounced as they became puffier and as her juices began to flow more freely. Her other hand glided along the elastic of the panties, threatening to slip under the fabric, but always somehow falling short.

Moaning more loudly now, Masoumeh raised her hips and drew in her stomach in the hope that this would persuade Fatima to invade her, but, just like Joan of Arc, this lady wasn't for turning. From his vantage point, Hunter could see how his wife was teasing, almost tormenting, Masoumeh, but he knew better than to make any comment. He could only look on as Fatima continued to massage the older woman's pussy through what was becoming an ever more ineffectual barrier.

Fatima had another trick up her sleeve. First the upper hand slipped an inch or two below the hemline of the panties (reduced now to a misshapen, sodden mess), then the other made the short journey across the darkened lace before slipping under the covering from the side. Suddenly Masoumeh cried out, as one of Fatima's slender fingers penetrated her, right to the final knuckle. She could hold her tongue no longer.

'Please! Make me come! Don't tease me any longer!'

Reverting to the role of gracious host, Fatima responded by pulling the panties down and substituting her finger with her tongue. The suddenness of the attack took Masoumeh completely off guard. What she had begun to think would never happen had left her with her defences so far down that at first she was unable to comprehend what was going on. The only response she was able to make was the result of pure animal instinct: the orgasm she had been scared would never come suddenly broke over her before she was able to set herself in a way she thought would bring her the greatest pleasure.

As she bucked and screamed, she learnt more about the joy of sex than she could ever read about in a book. The young woman she had written off as naïve and as a mere appetiser (and not a particularly appealing one at that) had rewritten all the manuals. Coming off her pussy briefly to tell Hunter to fetch the strap-on, Fatima made sure that Masoumeh knew what was coming next. Eagerly bounding across the room, her husband opened the drawer and hurried back to Fatima with it.

'Oh my god!' breathed the older woman, as Fatima tightened the harness and prepared to enter her with the angry-looking beast.

After the desperately slow introduction, everything was happening so fast now. She turned her head to seek out Hunter, but saw only a look of sheer, unadulterated lust etched onto his countenance, where she had been hoping to discern understanding and even compassion. She had one final chance to pull herself up from the floor and escape before Fatima began to pound her with that obscene phallus, but all her energy had somehow deserted her. The only movement her legs made was upwards, as like an automaton she obeyed the girl's command to open herself for her.

The next thing she knew, the shaft was bulldozing its way inside her - way, way inside her.

'No!' she cried.

But her cries fell on deaf ears. Placing her hands on her splayed thighs, Fatima began to fuck her without mercy, the shaft glistening more brightly each time it came out of her waterlogged tunnel. The sound of Masoumeh asking Fatima to stop competed with the sounds of the fake cock slurping as it exited her hungry cunt. Over time, the former sound changed, as Masoumeh gave up the pretence and begged Fatima to finish her off. The squelching, as if in harmony with the lust that was being articulated, intensified still further.

Looking on, Hunter knew he had a tough act to follow. As far as his own equipment was concerned, there was no danger that it would fail him. Even so, he was very keen that he should not come again. At one point he even thought of leaving the room, but decided against such a radical solution, given the almost unprecedented levels of arousal he was experiencing. He compromised by removing his hand from his distended penis, allowing it free rein to twitch and judder as it willed.

He could tell that the Iranian beauty was close to capitulating again. He tried to convince himself that he could provide her with even more pleasure than his wife was giving her, but he knew he was up against an unnatural beast that never flagged, never slept. To set against this disadvantage, he had witnessed what he had intuited ever since he met Masoumeh in the swimming pool: this was a woman who had a voracious sexual appetite. He could also throw into the mix the fact that she had clearly set out her stall to make love to him. Seen in this light, the extraordinary intensity of the sexual experience she was receiving at the hands of his wife might yet work in his favour. He would take her upstairs, he decided, where the extra frisson provided by the fact that he would be making love to her on the bed he shared with his wife would, he hoped, take the coupling to a whole new level.

Sure enough, within a minute or so, Masoumeh could take no more of the bombardment she was receiving. She cried out as the orgasm ripped through her, pushing back against the hard glass column in an attempt to prolong the pleasure, delighting as she climaxed once more. Spent and exhausted, she lay limp - almost lifeless - on the carpet, glad that now at last she would have the opportunity to rest up a little and recover.

I don't know if in Persian they have the expression, 'Never count your chickens until they are hatched', because Fatima wasn't finished with her yet. Telling Masoumeh to kneel on the floor, Fatima swept the cushion out of the way. Thinking that Fatima wanted to fuck her doggy style, she complied with her request. Even in her weakened condition, she was content for the Pakistani girl to fuck her in what was her favourite position. Hunter, however, knew better: his wife intended to underscore her conquest by taking her in the ass.

When Masoumeh understood what it was that the Pakistani girl intended, she made her position clear in no uncertain terms. Unfortunately for her, her choice of words served only to motivate Fatima further.

'No, not there. I've never taken it, you know, in -' her voice trailed off.

'No, I don't know,' replied Fatima disingenuously. 'You've never taken it where?'

'I'm not comfortable with that, so, please, no!'

'How do you know you're not comfortable with it if you've never tried it?' Fatima continued, nothing daunted.

'Look, I just know. I've never let my husband touch me there.'

'I'm sure Hunter intends to take you up the ass,' Fatima retorted, causing the older woman to wince at the very mention of the word. 'Why deny me what you want from my husband?'

'Look, I don't want it from anyone. I -'

Masoumeh broke off abruptly as she felt the cool silicone jab against her tender orifice.

'No! I mean it. I will scream.'

'I know you will,' said Fatima. 'That is very much the plan.'

Fatima had been busy lubricating the dildo (already coated with Masoumeh's juices) with her saliva. Hunter was on the point of intervening on their guest's behalf when his wife nudged the head of the column against the older woman's asshole.

'You can walk away if you want to,' said Fatima - as calmly as you like.

Masoumeh said nothing in response, and more importantly did nothing. Hunter, on the edge of his seat, ready to intervene, kept himself in check. He watched with excitement as Fatima edged the giant forward. His excitement turned to astonishment as Masoumeh's anus relaxed and accepted the intruder. It was all he could do not to come on the spot.

Fatima resisted the temptation to tell Masoumeh 'I told you so.' Instead, very carefully, like a surgeon performing an operation, she fed her cock centimetre by centimetre into the Iranian woman's tight passage.

'Aw, fuck!' Masoumeh blurted out, her use of the f-word another first on what was turning out to be a day of firsts.

Fatima turned to look at Hunter, who had settled back into his chair and was attending to his erection once again. She smiled at him, but he didn't notice, so enrapt was he in the events that were unfolding before him. Unbothered, she fed the phallus deeper into Masoumeh's ass, drawing gasps and groans in equal measure. It took only a matter of minutes for the full length of the dildo to be plugged inside the anal virgin.

From there it was plain sailing. Masoumeh had inadvertently ticked off an item which she hadn't even been aware was on her bucket list. Soon it was she who was asking Fatima to fuck her harder - using those precise words. Masoumeh was like a woman transformed. Maybe one day she would even allow her husband to fulfil his number one fantasy. So long as she could satisfactorily explain away her sudden conversion to what in Iran they called the Greek arts.

In order to grant Masoumeh her desire for an anal orgasm, Fatima adopted her tried and tested position, assuming a half kneeling position. The more oblique angle of entry was enough to do for Masoumeh, for whom the climax was over all too soon. She had half a mind to ask Fatima to continue fucking her, but by this time she was all in and desperately needed time to recuperate.

'Right,' Masoumeh said, resuming her customary tone of authority. 'I want to see the two of you make love together.'

18

Fatima looked at Hunter. They made quite a pair, each brandishing their fearsome weapons. Fatima saw the brief flicker of disappointment in her husband's eyes. She understood how badly he wanted to take Masoumeh, and she also knew the tremendous fucking she would receive from him, now that his time as a mere observer had come to an end.

'Let's take it upstairs,' he said, helping Masoumeh up from the carpet.

She gathered her clothes together, and for a moment Fatima and Hunter thought she was going to put them on. But instead she folded them neatly and lay them over her left arm, straightening her shoes but leaving them in the sitting room. Hunter asked the women what they would like by way of refreshments and once he had taken their order he trotted off to the kitchen to fix things. While he was doing that, Fatima, naked like her guest, led Masoumeh up to the bedroom.

When Hunter arrived, they were sitting side by side on the bed talking, as pretty as a picture. As she served them, Masoumeh said there was something different about him. Hunter looked at Masoumeh, then Fatima, for elucidation, and when none was forthcoming he took the bait.

'First time this evening I've seen you without an erection!' the Iranian laughed.

'We'll soon fix that, won't we?' said Fatima, who, Hunter noticed, had lost the strap-on.

That was effectively the end of the timeout, as Hunter, managing to take one last gulp of his water, found himself in the enviable position of being attended to by two women. He, for one, wasn't going to complain. Furthermore, both had decided to dispense with preliminaries, getting straight down to business with his dormant cock.

Well, dormant it didn't remain for long, under what seemed more like an orchestrated assault than an impromptu exercise. While one of the women (Hunter could never be sure who was doing what to him, what with their constant changing of positions and the fact that his eyes were closed for much of the time) was working her way along his column with her tongue, the other was caressing his balls with her fingers. In next to no time, he was as hard as iron and longing for a mouth around his weapon.

'Let me see to his needs.'

It was Masoumeh's voice that he could hear. When he realised that one of his fantasies was about to become reality, that the mysterious woman in the pool was about to go down on him, he almost had to pinch himself. After all, it was she who just minutes earlier had said she wanted to watch as husband and wife made love. Not that he was complaining. If the two women intended to operate as a tag team, that was absolutely fine by him.

Hunter could tell right from the off that it was a different pair of lips from that which he was used to. There was a greater intensity to the approach: it was as if she had been a tuba player in her youth. Hunter was sensitive to his wife's feelings, but even his solicitude for her was insufficient to prevent him from responding.

'Oh, fuck, yeah!' he crooned.

Fatima was indeed conflicted. The fire that had long lain dormant was exploding into flames before her eyes. And it wasn't only Hunter who was being consumed in the conflagration. Masoumeh too was burning - her passion lit by the red-hot poker she was devouring. For Fatima, being so close to the inferno meant that she was also being singed by the heat. She knew it was pointless to attempt to douse the flames. Her only option was to stoke them still further.

Lying on her back, she settled in between Masoumeh's legs and started to lash out at the Iranian woman's molten cunt - the very cunt that her husband ached to be invading. Overwhelmed by sensations which she was unable to control, Masoumeh tightened her grip on Hunter's shaft, her head now locked into place by Hunter's desperate hands. Further up his mighty schlong she travelled, her saliva flowing in streams, mirroring the juices that were now pouring from her pussy.

Hunter 's volcano was so close to erupting that he had to use every ounce of his willpower to overcome the easy option. He wanted to make this last, but he also wanted release, and he wanted it so badly. Further still Masoumeh advanced, powered on by the combination of Fatima's frenzied fellatio of her clit and the thought of Hunter releasing his precious seed down her throat.

She gave no thought at all to his stamina, to his ability to come once more inside her. To her at this point he was no more than a machine, a robot that was programmed to obey orders, an automaton that would fulfil her needs on demand.

Unable to withstand the pressure that was being applied to its tectonic plates, the volcano erupted - the lava flowing in devastating streams from its gaping crater. To the accompaniment of a deep rumbling from Hunter's mouth, Masoumeh greedily swallowed his effluent in her own. Her release followed in its turn, Fatima receiving due reward for her forbearance and selfless consideration for the needs of the others.

'My god!' exclaimed the Australian. 'That was, well, absolutely incredible! How to top that?!'

The word 'top' gave Masoumeh ideas. And, after all, she was never short of them.

'Lie down on the bed, Hunter. Now that we've warmed you up, it's time for you to tend to your wife's needs.'

'I really don't think I'm in any fit state,' he replied, the helplessness evident in his voice.

'I never thought I'd hear you talk like that,' Masoumeh responded.

Then, addressing Fatima, she added, 'We can't allow him to wallow in such defeatist talk, can we?'

'Absolutely not,' Fatima responded, with a twinkle in her eye.

Between them they ushered Hunter onto the bed, delighted to see that his penis had suffered no mortal wound. They both knew it wouldn't take much to return it to its fully functional state, especially with the ultimate prize of the Iranian woman to spur him on. Holding hands, they joined him on the bed.

'Let's put on a bit of a show for him,' Masoumeh told Fatima.

Even as she spoke these words, they could see his penis respond.

'Don't you think that would be cheating?' asked Fatima, adopting the severest tone she could muster. 'I have been trying to wean him off his fantasies of two women having unnatural relations with each other.'

'That education must, I fear, wait for another day. At least, if we wish for him to provide you with the conjugal pleasure which it is his duty to perform.'

Negotiations completed, the women knelt opposite each other beside Hunter and brought their breasts together, their nipples kissing for what to Hunter seemed like an eternity before their mouths followed suit. His role had reverted once more to that of a spectator, but this time he was a member of the audience who had been invited onto the stage to take part in the entertainment. Only, 'entertainment' seemed too mild a word (in fact, altogether the wrong word) to describe the effect that the events that were unfolding before him promised to have on him.

When he saw Masoumeh's hand drop down between Fatima's legs and then, when he saw the look on his wife's face as her fingers worked their magic on her once again, he felt a feeling that he had never felt before: that everything was possible; that he was indeed that machine which Masoumeh had pronounced him to be; that he could satisfy every desire of everyone in that room, himself included.

His penis (the epitome, the apex of that machine) lay once more fully erect across his loins, secure in its mastery, quite content to wait until its turn came. And its turn came more quickly than he could have dared to hope, as Fatima surrendered without a fight to the feelings she had no wish to control.

Like one who has been hypnotised, she rose and moved the short distance to her husband, taking his gift for her in her hands, then lowering herself onto it, intending to do it slowly, so she could savour the entry of every inch of his manhood into her core, but finding such a procedure impossible owing to the perfect preparation she had received.

Her eyes locked onto Hunter's, she rose until she could feel his penis about to leave her, then allowed gravity to do its thing, groaning as the shaft swiftly filled her anew. Tossing her head back like a stallion, she started to ride him, the room spinning above and all around her. For the first time, she felt that he wasn't enough for her. But, rather than disappointing her, this sensation only acted to tell her that she must find the solution.

In one easy movement, she came off him, but only so that she could turn round and guide him into her from behind. Feeling his penis appear to bend as it accommodated itself to the new position, Hunter uttered a cry of pain. But the pain soon turned to ecstasy, as he adjusted his body and embraced the boundless possibilities of his situation.

Even as Fatima continued to ride him, he heard a noise from beside him on the bed. His imagination started to run wild, as he saw, but only in his mind's eye, Masoumeh frigging herself, desperate for her own release. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining that it was Masoumeh he was fucking. He felt no shame or embarrassment, as befitted the machine into which she had turned him.

He felt a movement on the bed and knew that she had come to him. When she descended onto his mouth, he was ready for her. Eyes still closed, he let his tongue roll over her pussy lips, her soft moaning indicating that all was right in her world. When she parted her lips for him, he accepted her invitation graciously, savouring her sweetness and taking his first drafts from her bottomless well.

Fatima was aware of what Masoumeh was up to, but she was phlegmatic, even sanguine, about it. The way she looked at it, the distraction of having to deal with the older woman's jewel of a cunt would ensure that she got her money's worth from Hunter. While he was multitasking, there was little chance that he would ejaculate prematurely.

With their back to each other, neither woman could see the other. Despite that, each knew what the other was thinking, and that was to see which one of them Hunter would be able to make come first. If the truth be told, Hunter's own needs didn't rate especially highly with them at this juncture.