Fatima Pt. 03: Masoumeh

Masoumeh reckoned that a bit of encouragement-cum-provocation was in order.

'Is that the best you can do?' she said, loudly enough so Fatima could hear. 'Lick me out like you lick Fatima.'

Hunter, who had been complimented on his oral skills on a number of occasions and thought he was doing a decent job, baulked at the imputation and, taking the bait, reapplied himself to proving his credentials.

'Yeah! Just there!' Masoumeh cried, as Hunter's finger located her bulbous clit.

'Oh my god! Yes! Fuck me with your finger!'

Hunter wasn't a hundred percent sure if by this she meant to continue what he was doing or to replace his tongue with his fingers. Deciding to stick with the status quo, he stepped up the work on her swollen nub (now squeezing it lightly between finger and thumb) while intensifying his tongue work all around her vulva.

Fatima had been pounding his cock as if it were a sledgehammer for some while now, but, so absorbed was he in the job Masoumeh had assigned him, he had all but forgotten about her. That all changed, though, when Fatima suddenly yelled out to tell the world and its dog that she was coming.

'Unload yourself inside me, darling!' she cried. 'You know we would like a child!'

Well, they had talked about it, and Hunter had been amenable to the idea, even though he was concerned about his age. But was she really serious, he wondered. Was it that time of the month already?

'Give her the baby she desires!' said Masoumeh, scarcely audible above Fatima's wailing.

Hunter's initial irritation at Masoumeh's interference in their personal affairs turned to an appalling yearning - a yearning to empty himself inside the Iranian tease.

'Fuck you!' he splurted into the soaking mess that was her pussy.

Then, his mind spinning like a kaleidoscope between the attractions of the two Asian women, he made what he knew would have to be one final assault on Masoumeh's pussy. As soon as he felt her orgasm beginning to break, he relaxed. The relative comfort that he was now enjoying, after the buffeting and battering he had been subject to for the past ten minutes or so, meant that at last he could do what he had been programmed to do.

Pushing Masoumeh unceremoniously off him, he let out a primal scream as the orgasm tore through him. Jet after jet of his jism flew into his wife's womb. Whether one of them met its match there must for the time being, at any rate, remain their secret.

19

Hunter excused himself and headed for the bathroom. He would like to have had a shower to prepare himself for Masoumeh, but knew he would have to make do with a quick wash in the basin. Having washed his hands and face, he slung his penis into the bowl and washed it thoroughly with soap and water, squeezing as much of the residue as he was able out of his pipes.

Having dried himself off, he wrapped a towel round his waist and went back into the room. Fatima took his place in the bathroom, leaving the way clear for him to begin his courtship of Masoumeh. As if they could read each other's mind, she too had donned a garment, a short, ivory, silk nightgown she must have been given by Fatima. They had the opportunity to seduce one another all over again.

Fatima ran her fingers through the hairs on Hunter's chest, bowing her head like Princess Diana, even though she had never been known to be afflicted by shyness. Her purpose was twofold: first, to appeal to the old-fashioned, knight-in-shining-armour side of her man, second, to check out the state of his arousal. The first goal she felt quietly confident that she was achieving; of the second, she could be certain, as indicated by the bulge below the join of his towel, which seemed to be growing before her very eyes.

Fatima was taking a shower and appeared to be taking her time over it. Hunter was concerned this might mean she was upset with him and didn't want to be in the same room as him and the woman he had lusted after these long months, but Masoumeh knew better. Fatima wanted to give the new lovers space, while they felt each other out. She would come and join them when she considered the time was right. Masoumeh, for one, wasn't expecting that for be for quite some time.

Sensing Hunter's unease, Masoumeh took it upon herself to make the first move - the first serious move. The towel could stay on for the moment, she decided. She had always got a thrill out of seeing a man (or a woman) covered only by a white towel. It signalled purity, sending the message that whatever might follow was natural and almost sacred. It was in this spirit that she leant in for her first kiss.

Hunter seemed taken aback, although he knew it must be coming. He held back slightly, not committing fully to the embrace. Far from being upset or disappointed, Masoumeh took it as a positive sign. It was like the first scattered drops of rain accompanied by the first breath of wind on a summer's day - sure harbingers of the storm that was about to break.

Even then, she had to resist the urge to remove his towel and fondle his penis. She knew that would work, but it wasn't her style and it wasn't the way she wanted him to remember her. So she prised his lips apart with her tongue and ran it along his teeth. For the time being his tongue declined to come out to play, but Masoumeh wasn't wasting much sleep over that. She could still remember how he had looked at her in the swimming pool. All that was required was a little time, then that thunderstorm would be unleashed.

Sure enough, after a minute or so of treading water, he suddenly caught a wave and didn't look back. His hands clasped her tight - first her arms, then her waist - as he moved in closer so that he could feel her breasts against his chest. His tongue rushed to meet hers, making up for lost time by staging mock battles with it.

Masoumeh had wanted to delay it further, but her libido let her down. Bringing both hands to his waist, she made short shrift of the towel and grasped his juddering penis. The memory of that monster stuffed down her throat almost caused her to drop to her knees and relive the experience. But she didn't want to be like some cheap hooker; she wanted the experience to be special. Just feeling it banging against her thighs or holding it like a truncheon was reward enough for now.

Meanwhile, Hunter, with a burning desire to feast on Masoumeh's breasts, had slid the simple knot on her belt and had let the nightgown drop to the floor.

'My god!' he whispered. 'I'd forgotten how beautiful they are.'

He couldn't help himself; the longing was too powerful. He bent down and captured a nipple in his mouth, turning it over in his mouth as if it were a lozenge, until the blood that was rushing to fill it made it too hard to manipulate in that way. Moving to the other one, he gave it the same treatment. This time Masoumeh made her first significant response - a low sigh of satisfaction. It was, as far as Hunter was concerned, a very positive note on which Fatima should make her entrance.

She was surprised to see they were still in the initial stages of lovemaking; she had fully expected to find Fatima getting to grips with Hunter's column, whether orally or vaginally - or, after she herself had blazed a trail there, anally. Still, things were certainly gathering pace. Masoumeh was grinding against Hunter, letting his member roam over her stomach and her mons, while Hunter had moved his hands to her ass and was kneading them with some vigour.

At any moment, Fatima was expecting Masoumeh to place a hand on her husband's column and guide him inside her. She even wondered if Hunter would lift her up, impaled on his cock, and fuck her standing up. She thought this unlikely, on balance, seeing that the Iranian woman was no sylph and that Hunter had been having back trouble of late.

Soon enough the moment of truth arrived. Masoumeh whispered in Hunter's ear and whatever she said it seemed to meet with his approval. (To be honest, the only thing that was likely to have disturbed his equilibrium was to hear her say she had to leave.) What the Iranian woman did next took Fatima by surprise. She shuffled onto the edge of the bed, made a kind of Z shape with her body - her arms stretched out before her, palms flat on the mattress - and offered herself to Hunter.

Fatima saw him do something he'd never done with her - smearing his fingers with his saliva, then bringing them to her pussy to lubricate it.

'As if she needed it!' Fatima thought.

'Oh my god!' she added to herself. 'That is her vagina he's dealing with?!'

She was still uncertain as he brought his febrile penis to her tempestuous, quivering posterior. Masoumeh's whole body stiffened and her face grimaced, as if she were on the rack, being stretched beyond endurance. Yet still he hadn't entered her.

'Fuck!' Hunter groaned - the moment of truth proving almost too much for him to comprehend.

Fatima hurried round the room to get a better view and satisfy her curiosity as to his intentions. Yes, it was her vagina, gaping wide to receive him, which he was about to penetrate. Slowly, oh so slowly, his tumescent phallus eased its way into her. Fatima switched her gaze to the object of his desire and watched as she struggled to keep herself upright. The Iranian woman sighed as he buried himself inside her. Everything had suddenly become very quiet. Fatima knew that the two of them were at the centre of the storm. She knew too that the storm was about to break.

Suddenly, Hunter shook off what to the untrained eye might have been mistaken for his lethargy and began to fuck her in earnest. Shivers began to run down Fatima's spine, and she could only imagine the sensations that were being unleashed in Masoumeh's body. Seemingly out of control, Hunter began to pound her mercilessly, one stroke following another at breakneck speeds.

Her husband had entered a trancelike state. Nothing in the world could have stopped him now. Fatima realised she was watching something very special: lust in the raw. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her into him, seeking to go even deeper inside her. Masoumeh had become a willing accomplice in her own destruction, willing Hunter on as he strove to efface her.

Fatima threw herself against the wall, spread her legs and began to masturbate furiously. Images of Hunter's ex-wife Jade fucking her in the shower and of the French maid Genevieve fisting her in their hotel room on their honeymoon fought for supremacy with the memories from earlier that evening of her own hard cock bringing the Iranian woman to orgasm. But none of these pictures could compete with the scene that was being played out in front of her, as her husband abandoned himself as (she felt convinced) he had never abandoned himself with her.

And still Hunter kept going - mechanically ramming her, breathing heavily, but otherwise showing little sign of humanity. Man or machine seemed to matter little to Masoumeh. So long as she felt disassociated from herself she was safe, but once she began to return to the reality of the situation (the bed, the man, the woman looking on) she was lost. She knew that all that was left to her was to make the best of a bad job.

Well, all things are relative. What she was undergoing could in no meaningful way be called anything but marvellous; marvellous and magical. She had no idea whether Hunter was close to coming, but, as for herself, she could be in little doubt.

'It is time,' she said, with remarkable calmness.

Like a dog patiently waiting for its owner's command before eating from its bowl, Hunter responded to her words instantly and with unbounded zeal. Issuing a guttural roar, as if he were a Mongolian throat-singer, he unloaded himself inside Massoumeh's spasming cunt. In perfect synchronicity (if not harmony) Masoumeh cried out in her own language, cementing their union. Now slumped against the wall, Fatima brought herself off again, this time so violently that her orgasm could be heard by the others as they remained conjoined on the bed.

Everyone knew what was next on the agenda. Masoumeh shuffled forward onto the bed to get herself into a more comfortable position, while Hunter lay down on his side beside her, bemoaning his advancing years, as his tool lay flaccid before him.

'Prepare Masoumeh for me,' he told his wife, too tired to do more than mutter in her direction.

She knew what he meant, but she had other ideas. Before attending to that, she needed to claim back at least a part of her husband for herself. Accordingly, she began to lick up the sperm that was leaking from Masoumeh's glorious pussy. Scarcely had she drunk it all down than it was replaced by a seemingly continuous stream of his white cum mixed with Masoumeh's sweet juices.

The slurping sounds combined with their lovers' moans was enough to demand the attention of any red-blooded man, and Hunter began to stir from his slumbers. Keen to lend a helping hand, Fatima sought out Hunter's sleeping giant and did her bit to rouse it, massaging it along its slippery length. As soon as it had regained some of its strength, she turned her attention to his balls, first cupping them, then idly playing with each one in turn. By the time she had returned to his penis, she found it stiff and very close to full working order.

She knew that she should really prepare Masoumeh's asshole, but she wanted so badly now to make their guest come one last time. Knowing the clitoris represented the path of least resistance, she assailed the chunky nub with her tongue. Almost at once, Masoumeh cried out, as the climax broke over her. Switching to her anus, Fatima applied herself to the task of lubricating it as best she could, alternating her own saliva with the juices that still oozed from the Iranian woman's cunt.

'Thank you, darling,' she heard her husband say, as he raised himself from the bed.

Taking that as her cue, Fatima moved to the head of the bed, from where she could witness Masoumeh's reactions when Hunter penetrated her most secret and sacred place. She wondered briefly whether the woman wouldn't be able to eat her out one last time while she was being impaled by Hunter, but quickly realised that this would a bridge too far. Masoumeh's eyes were already glazed over, and Hunter had not as yet begun his assault.

When the 'assault' came, it was with a gentleness that befitted the occasion. The timeout had been felicitous not just for Hunter but also for Masoumeh. True, when he got his first sight of her wondrous glory hole the blood had rushed to his head, but one of the advantages of those advancing years was the ability to take the time to sum up a situation. Notwithstanding that, at the first feeling of his beast against her barrier, Masoumeh cried out in apparent surprise; or was it shock, or merely anticipation?

With her head-on view, Fatima knew when Hunter had entered Masoumeh almost before she did. The way her eyes bulged must, Fatima thought, be exactly how she looked when the sledgehammer entered her anus. Masoumeh swallowed hard, in an attempt, Fatima thought, to restore, as best she could, her equilibrium - much as a passenger on an aircraft will swallow as the plane makes its descent.

One thing was certain, though: Masoumeh was most certainly on an ascent (a sharp and rapid ascent) rather than a descent. The prolonged, low groan that she emitted when Hunter nudged his shaft deeper inside her got to Fatima so powerfully that she placed her hands on the Iranian woman's large, dangling boobs. Looking into her grey-green eyes, she couldn't help but move closer and kiss her on the lips. Greedily, almost desperately, Masoumeh kissed her back - tongues mashing and teeth clashing.

Hunter thought once again of their first meeting at the hotel and imagined her trying to escape his clutches and climb out of the pool before he could overpower her. She had almost made it, but he had grabbed at her trailing leg and she was trapped. Exiting the pool in one easy movement, he pulled the straps of her swimsuit off her shoulders and, ignoring her protests, pulled down the wet material covering her buttocks. His job done, he beheld her ass, which appeared to invite him to part the beautiful globes and reveal her mysteries. Part them he did, to be rewarded by the sight of the tiny pink bud with its spider's web pattern.

'Oh fuck!' he cried, as his fantasy melded into reality.

Pushing his penis deeper inside her, he felt her pushing back at him, welcoming the intruder and inviting it to take its fill of her spoils. He pushed until he could push no further, then started a rhythmical pumping of her tight alley. Masoumeh had jettisoned Fatima so that she could focus on the sensations she was experiencing. She wanted more, but she knew she was about to come, and knew too that this would trigger Hunter's orgasm. There was only one thing for it. She wanted things to be done properly.

'I want you to send your seed deep inside me now!' she said, as if she were instructing a novice in some leisure activity.

Hunter didn't need asking twice. He was already on the edge. With a bellow he emptied himself inside her, lost in his own world, unaware if she had even come. But Fatima knew better, watching on as their new lover went to a place she had been unable to take her to with her strap-on. But, far from being jealous, she rejoiced in the fact they had found a new friend, someone who would be there for them when their relationship needed pepping up, someone who they could always count on to share her love equally between them.

FINIS