tagNovels and NovellasThe Hottest Fire Ch. 08

The Hottest Fire Ch. 08

byvelvet hammer©

Chapter 8. The Lebanese Lesbian

The focus of Ludlow’s investigations soon centred on the University’s Professor of Mathematics. Her name was Layla, on loan from the University of Beirut, a part of the much-lauded foreign-exchange program. The Board of Regents of the University would not have been quite so excited to learn that she was using her position to cover her activities as the ringleader of an underground network of extremist Middle Eastern terrorist operatives.

Layla was the quintessential hot little Lebanese shish kabob; dark, flashing almond-shaped eyes and a wide smile of pearly white teeth. Her skin was olive-toned, the natural blonde highlights in her full head of chestnut brown hair bespoke of the sunnier climes of the Levantine. Even the way she spoke elicited visions of the mysterious kabala of the Near East; her accent was an exotic mix of Arabic with quasi-French overtones.

Layla always dressed as if she were just about to attend some spectacular social event, with matching handbags and heels of all things. She was never without a silk scarf; she owned a vast collection, all in the most vivid blue and purple paisleys set tastefully on ochre and maroon backgrounds.

Her scarves were her trademark, either pinned about her neck and shoulders with a gaudy brooch or quite often worn about her head to hold her hair in place during sunny or blustery weather. An apparent acknowledgment to the proper amount of modesty expected of an Arab woman, her scarves nonetheless never seemed able to completely conceal tantalizing glimpses of lace-trimmed undergarment at the bountiful curve of her full bosom.

With her round hips and magnificent ass Layla always caught the eye of faculty and students alike as she sashayed about campus, a flurry of silk skirts and clicking heels. Everything about her seemed to transmit an enthusiastic signal of vivacious sexual appetite.

There was something in her scent; a certain muskiness beneath her exotic Oriental perfumes that triggered a man’s primitive urge to rut. Her dusky hue, the sun-toned highlights of her thick, silky brown tress evoked images of hotter, sunnier climes. One longed to stroke her naked, brown body. All the men on the faculty wanted to fuck her; the poor male students who sat across from her desk during the course of events quite often drooled outright; the poor fools simply weren’t prepared for such a barrage of outright sex appeal. The red-painted lips of her wide smile seemed to beg out loud for a hard, hot dick to suck upon.

The many bouquets of flowers with which she was presented were acknowledged by the briefest of hugs, during which would-be suitors were held at the correct distance by a slight hand to the chest. She laughingly exchanged “air-kisses” when men attempted to greet her in the French fashion. Invitations to dinings-out and other excursions were fopped off on the flimsiest of alibis. She became known as something of a cock-tease.

Alas, the pent-up desires of the men on campus were for naught; it was not common knowledge that in indulging her body’s natural hunger and cravings Layla preferred the company of women to that of men. Indeed, as an accomplished masturbatrix, Layla preferred the gratification available at her own fingertips to either of the above.

For the time being Layla was happy the way things were. She had no wish to become entangled in a messy relationship with one of these penniless academics. Her dream was to successfully return to Beirut with enough funds saved up to buy an entire harem of Phillippina sex-slaves to would wait upon her hand and foot. Nightly she fingered her pussy to the fantasy of having three ‘little brown fucking machines’ pleasure her at once; one on each nipple, one down below sucking and licking her clit.

Ludlow made his approach to Layla tepidly, using his cover as a graduate student to feel her out during a series of one-on-one meetings. It was a delicate and tenuous process, but also a surprisingly successful operation. Layla was a social gadfly and was genuinely charmed by the quiet, unassuming older graduate student who dressed nicely and was able to converse intelligently with her in three or four languages. Layla became quite friendly with Ludlow as he carefully spun his subtle web to ensnare her.

At the same time Ludlow had Barbara acquaint herself with Layla in an attempt to exploit what he suspected was the sexual predilection of the dusky demoness. Eventually, this ploy would succeed beyond his wildest expectations, though not in the precise manner that he suspected.

Employing the crudest of techniques, Ludlow arranged the circumstances for Barbara to encounter Layla. He encouraged the young woman to doll herself up in a tasteful manner that was subtly seductive yet at the same time overwhelmingly signalled sexual availability. Unbeknownst to her, Barbara was now playing a passive role in the game of clandestine operations. Although Ludlow felt some tepid feelings of guilt, his conscience was assuaged by the notion that he was merely using Barbara as bait, a lure to ensnare Layla.

Barbara selected a long gypsy skirt of crushed black chiffon and a white cotton peasant girl blouse cut low enough to display her cleavage to it’s best advantage, yet not in an overt way. A silk scarf tied about her hips was held in place with a decorative belt of Navajo silver that advertised the roundness of her hips, a pair of spiked-heeled boots of soft calfskin poked out where the calf-length black skirt ended. Barbara had explored the hippy marketplaces to find just the right broad bracelet cuff-pieces of ethnic silver to wear about her wrists. She wore nothing about her neck save for her customary choker of black velvet ribbon. The whole dashing ensemble was completed with gold hoop earrings and a scarf about her hair that made her look like an MGM pirate.

Only Barbara could pull off wearing an outfit like this; the sweet and innocent look of Barbara’s natural visage served to tone down what might otherwise be an outrageous costume. The message she transmitted was loud and clear: here was a woman confident in herself and her own sexuality, willing to take the high road in pursuit of carnal adventure. Layla practically drooled when she first laid eyes on the sexy swashbuckler.

It was at one of the many wine and cheese affairs that the faculty hosted on a frequent basis. Ludlow wore his customary tweeds, complete with leather elbow patches and pipe, but chose a black turtleneck over his usual collar and tie to present the image of a modern sporting gentleman upon whose arm the dazzling and vivacious Barbara would not look out of place. Indeed, amongst weirdo’s and beatniks who occupied the academic world the couple blended in quite naturally.

They had just entered the hall and received refreshment; Barbara held a glass of Chardonnay while Ludlow nursed his trademark Scotch. Layla appeared before them almost immediately. She wore a deep purple mini-dress with matching handbag and heels. The flowing scarf of gold-coloured silk was held about her shoulders with an enormous topaz brooch. Her hair was done in a windswept coiffure; she looked magnificent.

Layla made no disguise of her immediate interest in Barbara. “Jonathon Ludlow, bon soir! How simply wonderful to see you here this evening!” Air kisses to the cheek completed her continental greeting. “And do tell me, qu’est que c’est cette petit ouiseau ici avec toi?” This last indicating the stunning young bird on his arm.

“Miss Layla, allow me to introduce ma cher ami, la madamoiselle Barbara.” Barbara smiled demurely; Layla grinned like the wolf, sizing up Little Red Riding Hood.

Une pleasure a fait votre connaissance,” Barbara said in her best schoolbook French.

J’espere,” Layla replied with obvious desire. I hope. Ludlow’s entrapment campaign was off to a promising start.

The event continued; Layla would not leave Barbara’s side. She held Barbara’s hand and would not let go, as if she were claiming ownership. For her part, Barbara merely felt complimented by the beautiful woman’s attentions. Although she detected that Layla’s interest in her was more than mere friendship, Barbara naively assumed that Ludlow’s presence indicated her present status regarding sexual orientation and availability.

Having played this segment of the gambit to the hilt, Ludlow took Barbara’s arm and they departed the affair early; Layla’s frustration showed in her eyes, in the terse set of her teeth as they bid their farewells. Ludlow felt confidant that Layla would seek Barbara out later, that through this he would somehow gain a position of advantage over her. Leaving Layla high and dry early in the game was a part of his plan; to cock-tease the cock-teaser. By playing on the Lebanese Lesbian’s hot desire for Barbara’s exquisite body, Ludlow hoped to force her into some act of misjudgement, to cause her to somehow mistakenly expose her connections to the underground terror cells he knew to be lurking just beneath the surface of the University’s student society.

Even in his wildest dreams, Ludlow could not imagine the success of this early manoeuvre. Layla returned to her apartment that evening quite alone. Tonight none other would do for her, she must have, she would have this sexy one she had met tonight; this Barbara. There was the annoying presence of the girl’s man friend that she would have to somehow deal with. Not a problem, one way or another Layla would take the beautiful young girl away from him. It would not be difficult. After all, he was already past his prime, practically an old man? What could such a ripe, young flower be doing in the company of such an old camel? If she were a man it might be difficult to steal her away from him; he seemed to have money, and some kind of charisma that attracted her to him. But as a woman, Layla knew she could get closer to Barbara. She could subtly seduce the young girl through the pretence of friendship that would gradually develop into a staged “exploration” of each other’s sexuality.

Once in the door to her apartment Layla kicked off her heels. She unzipped her dress as she walked into her bedroom and slid out of the garment, revelling in the feel of fresh air about her nearly naked body. Layla regarded herself in the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. Her black lace bra and panties lay upon her supple body’s curves like decorations, in wonderful contrast to her golden brown skin. She shook her head and her tresses fell about in wild abandon. She had to admit, even to herself, she was nothing less than stunningly beautiful. How could any being on this earth find her less than irresistible, man or woman?

Layla took her scarf and drew it slowly across the round tops of her generous breasts, held it against her belly, smooth and pleasantly round from years of belly-dancing performed in the souk’s of every capital of the Arab world. She turned and viewed her ass; firm and muscular, high and tight, encased in the briefest triangle of black lace. Her shapely legs disappeared into the lace tops of her sheer, black silk thigh-high stockings. Who could blame her for admiring herself in such a fashion? Why should she love anyone but herself, her own body?

Layla unhooked her bra, tossed it aside, cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples until they stood out deliciously. She watched herself do so in the mirror, thrilling to the sensations to her nips, delighted by the beauty she observed before her. Her hands travelled downward, she hooked her thumbs into the thin straps of her string bikini panties and gradually drew them downward, enjoying every moment of viewing herself as her panties slid ever so slowly down her hips, across the tops of her thighs to fall ever so softly to the floor. She left her stockings on, enjoying the way they presented her nude body. She wandered her hands back up her body, pausing to trail across her slit; freshly shaven quite bald, it resembled a ripe peach. Her fingers travelled upwards to play at her breasts, to once more pinch her pointy nipples. She lifted her arms above her head to hold her hair away from her neck as she viewed herself in all her natural glory. In the Arab fashion, her body was totally hairless from the neck down.

Layla backed away from the mirror to lay back on her wide bed. It was time to revel in the exquisite pleasure of self-gratification. She closed her eyes and thought of the beautiful young girl Barbara, her beautiful face, imagined kissing her sweet lips, her firm young tits. As she fantasized about running her lips over Barbara’s naked body, kissing her slit and tasting her sweet young pussy, she opened her eyes ever so slightly to watch herself in the mirror suspended above her on the ceiling. She drew her heels up, spread her legs, licked her fingers, and began to slowly stroke her clit in a gentle, circular motion.

Oh! How she loved to pleasure herself! Oh! How she would love to be pleasured by the young girl Barbara! She stroked herself up and down her slit; she was very wet. She brought her fingers to her mouth to taste herself, sucked her fingers and made them wet then returned them to apply this wetness back and forth across her clitoris. The sensation was truly wonderful.

Layla closed her eyes and imagined the lovely young Barbara. Barbara, dressed as she was tonight at the 'do', a lovely piece of baklava. She imagined Barbara naked, she imagined kissing Barbara’s tits, licking her lovely young pussy. Without removing her hand from diddling herself, Layla reached over with her other hand to the bedside table, opened the drawer and retrieved her ‘little friend’; a sturdy, ten-inch vibrator tastefully done in cream coloured plastic.

She brought the large phallus to her lips and licked it, made it very wet, then lowered it to join her other hand, already working hard at pleasuring herself. She withdrew those fingers and replaced them upon her clit with the blunt end of her tool, manipulated a switch on the base of the device with her thumb and a pleasant buzz instantly delivered irresistible pleasure across her entire pussy. While the apparatus delivered immeasurable joy, Layla delved down with the fingers of her other hand to stroke herself, to gently explore the wetness of her inner labia.

And yet as she masturbated to the thought of Barbara’s naked body, the image of the man Jonathon Ludlow came to the front of her mind. She is fucking him! she thought, what can she possibly see in him? What can he possibly do for her? And as she thought of Ludlow, it was almost natural that a mental image of a penis automatically came to the forefront of her mind. An erect penis, long and hard, curving upward; tantalizing her, beckoning her. His penis.

She closed her eyes tight and shook her head from side to side. No! No! she hissed through clenched teeth as she rubbed the buzzing dildo manically across her swollen clitoris. And yet in her mind’s eye she imagined parting her lips to mouth his cock, to lick and suck, to gain sustenance from the nectar that flowed forth. She could not resist these thoughts, and as they consumed her imagination she inserted two fingers into her pussy and began fucking herself. She fucked herself as she would be fucked if it were Ludlow fucking her. She imagined him humping her with his short, round, frog-like body, his pole drilling her to the mattress.

Her hand went up and down manically, her fingers went in and out of her wet pussy like an engine’s piston in a cylinder while the vibrating plastic cock tormented her clitoris ceaselessly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched. She tossed her head from side to side; as she fucked herself relentlessly with one hand, the fingers of her other hand worked her clit mercilessly with the buzzing vibrator as the thought of Ludlow’s ass going up and down on top of her overwhelmed her. Her pussy muscles clamped around her fingers, fluid splashed over her hand and the massive hot wave of pleasure that was building up within swept over her entire body, to be followed by another, then another and another until, at last, she was spent.

She was almost too weak to thumb the switch on the base of the vibrator to end its maddening buzz. She tossed it aside, ran her fingertips across her satiated body, lightly pinched her nipples, anointing them with her love juices. Layla opened her eyes and regarded herself in the mirror suspended above the bed. Her legs were spread wide apart, feet planted on either side with her stocking clad knees up, the bare skin of her open thighs contrasting to the black lace tops of her stockings. The vibrator lay on the bed beside her hips, a loyal friend, now silent witness to one more of Layla’s punishing self-gratification sessions.

With fingertips still buried in the folds of her bald pussy she diddled herself lightly, enjoying the aftershocks of her orgasm. The other hand lay across her breasts; in the mirror she seemed attempting to cover them out of some false sense of modesty, yet this only served to add to the overall effect of pure sin. Her hair was spread about her head over the sheets; she was wild in her abandon. She was a purely sexual being in a total animal state. When she closed her eyes the image of Ludlow’s giant penis returned to tempt and torment her once more.

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