Zainab Habiba

He did to me with his huge cock what he had done with his fingers. But it was more, so much more. He arched his back and pounded me, faster and faster. The pain subsided as I got used to his great size and the feeling of being so completely full of him. My excitement rose ever higher with his low, growling grunts.

His hands gripped my hips, moved up to hold my waist, then he had my breasts in his hands under the cover of my abaya. He pulled down the cups of my wet bra and roughly kneaded my breasts. He tweaked my thick, hard nipples, causing sharp pain that drew low mewls from me. Even the pain stoked my excitement.

"Your tits are superb, Zainab Habiba," he whispered in my ear, continuing to knead my breasts and tweak my nipples. "The tits of a goddess! With divine nipples, long and hard!"

My vision was blurry from the sweat and tears, but even so, I saw Father glance over at me. I was sure he could see my glazed eyes.

"My God!" I said in Badawi. "God! Praise God!"

He heard my invocations to God and nodded approvingly.

All of a sudden, Jack began gushing inside me, gouts of thick, musky semen. The sensation of being filled, of being bred, triggered yet another orgasm, and my pussy gripped his shaft in a series of wringing contractions.

He ejaculated inside me like a firehose, pumping his manly juices into my deepest recesses through three hard thrusts. And then he was still, his hardness latent within me. I could feel his heavy slow heartbeat thudding like a diesel engine through his cock to the walls of my pussy. I could really FEEL him, I really KNEW him. I understood why my mother used to tell me that to have sex with a man is to know him.

I was covered with sweat despite the coldness of the air conditioning. I lay back on him and closed my eyes. I rocked my hips gently, feeling his hardness deep inside me, and concentrated on gripping him with my pussy. I was impaled on his manhood, content to be the female invaded by his rampant male.

"I'm exhausted, nearly comatose," I whispered. "You fucked my brains out."

"You're a virgin," he whispered back. "You know nothing about men. But you are all woman, you were born to be fucked. Your taut pussy clutches my cock like a warm vise. You move your hips, using your wet tightness to remind me that I am spent for the moment but you could still take another man ... or men."

* * *

It was a difficult flight to Istanbul, for Jack's thick, viscous semen kept leaking out of me and staining my pink abaya. I had to go to the restroom several times to clean myself. Every time I thought I had the last of it, more oozed out from deeper inside me.

As soon as we got to our hotel suite, I went to my bedroom and took off my abaya. A business card fell out of the lining and I picked it up. It was Jack's business card with his contacts. I sent him a text -- I'm still tired and sore. But I'm missing you already. His reply came almost immediately.

I'm hard just thinking about you, Zainab Habiba.

* * *

I returned from Istanbul with Father and immediately began a whirl of preparations for my wedding. Mother took me shopping and we bought lots of gold jewelry, many new abayas, and hijabs, in silk, fine cotton, and muslin, many with intricate gold embroidery. She surprised me by sitting with me and ordering dozens of very revealing expensive sets of French lingerie to be shipped from a shop she used in Paris. Father and his staff took care of all the arrangements in the capital. Everything was charged to the rich al Sura family.

A few weeks went by and as the dreaded date approached, I began to feel very sick. I was nauseous and had no appetite. What little I ate, I threw up and continued retching with dry heaves. Father wanted me to see a doctor, but Mother forestalled him.

"It's probably a woman's thing," she said. "Let me check it out."

"All right," said Father. "But if it continues much longer, she must see a specialist in the capital."

That very afternoon, Mother brought in a female European doctor. She was young, blonde, and very professional. She had me lie down, spread my legs, and used a probe in my pussy wearing rubber gloves. She made me pee in a cup, then sent me to sit with Mother. When she came out, she took Mother aside and spoke to her in low tones so I could not hear her. She left soon after.

"Zainab Habiba," Mother said. "Let us go to your suite and sit down."

She ordered tea and we sat drinking it in silence.

"When were you with a man?" she asked me.

"Mother!" I protested. "I have never --"

"Don't bother to lie, Zainab Habiba. You are pregnant. The Catholics may believe in miraculous births, but I do not."

I hung my head.

"It wasn't my fault," I said.

"Who was it?"

"A rich businessman," I confessed. "An American, I think."

"Well," said Mother after a pause. "At least that means he's probably clean." She took a few more sips of her tea. "What was the color of his hair? His eyes?"

"He had black hair with traces of gray, salt, and pepper. And blue eyes, very bright blue. Such a handsome man! So strong and athletic! A magnificent beast!"

Mother put a hand on my cheek.

"Tell no one about this. No one. Remember, Walid al Sura is not only a businessman, but he is also our tribal chieftain. If he knows, or even suspects, he will have you beheaded for adultery."

"He cannot do that!" I exclaimed. "No one is beheaded in this day and age!"

"Not in public," said Mother. "But many things happen in private, in the dark of the night. They say Walid al Sura's previous young wife, the one you are replacing, was strangled on his orders."

"Why, Mother?"

"No one knows. But I guarantee that if he knows that you are carrying the child of another man, your life will not be worth half a dinar. Remember, your grandmother was a slave, she disappeared when I was five, and she's almost certainly dead. No one will protect you."

My blood ran cold. I had not realized the magnitude of my danger.

"No one," I repeated.

"Make sure Walid fucks you on the first night of the honeymoon. Two, three, four times, don't let him sleep. Pretend you're infatuated with him and help him get his cock hard repeatedly. Use your hands and your mouth if necessary."

"My mouth?" I asked, aghast.

"You must have as much of his semen in you as possible, Zainab Habiba. Suck his cock. Suck it like your life depends on it. Believe me, it does. He MUST believe that this baby is his."

* * *

It was a very private wedding with no journalists, though a few paparazzi managed to get long-range photos that appeared in the gossip press. I wore a flowing white silk and lace abaya that covered me from wrist to chin, and a silk bridal hijab that covered my hair, with a delicate muslin veil through which the world appeared blurry. Walid put my veil up after the ceremony and kissed me perfunctorily before moving on the mingle with the distinguished guests.

We had a quiet honeymoon on a private island in the Indian Ocean. I played the modest virgin and let him undress me, take off my gown and lingerie ... and finally the ultimate intimacy, he removed my hijab.

"Ah, you live up to your reputation," he said.

"My reputation?" I asked.

"Your mother and you are called 'the girls from the North' by the men in our family." He ran his fingers through my hair. "So soft and long. You're the palest blonde I've seen. Your father sent me the tests."

'Tests?" I asked, stupidly.

"They did tests on you as a girl. To confirm you're not an albino."

"I don't remember any tests."

"How could you? You were two years old, Zainab Habiba."

I did as Mother commanded. I was all over him from the very first night. It was difficult, for I kept having visions of Jack's hard, muscular body and his gigantic cock, pounding me nearly senseless. Walid's manhood was minuscule by comparison, and he ejaculated almost immediately after achieving an erection. I got better with practice and by the end of the first night, I was able to get him hard and mount him to get him in me before he ejaculated.

He groaned like he was dying every time he climaxed, so loudly that I was afraid he would die in my bed and I would be blamed for killing him with sex. Fortunately, he remained healthy.

Mother took me aside after the honeymoon and asked me about it.

"He came in me, Mother," I said. "Maybe six or seven times."

"Only that many?" She sounded disappointed. "You were with him a whole week. I was hoping you would get him to ejaculate in you at least ten or fifteen times."

"It was very difficult, Mother. It takes a long time to help him grow an erection, and then he spurts a small flow almost immediately. I had to suck his cock for ages to get him hard and then get him in me quickly before he ejaculated. He doesn't get very hard and my pussy is very tight. Believe me, it was not easy."

"It was the same with your father and me," sighed Mother.

"You mean --" I put my hand on my mouth, shocked at what she could be implying.

"Yes," Mother whispered in my ear. "Your real father is a Norwegian oil field explorer who spent a month drilling near our rural mansion nineteen years ago. Such a marvelous man, rugged, tough, hard all over. He fucked me like an animal, drove his cock in me like a piston till I nearly passed out." She blushed prettily, it made her look so much younger -- like a sister instead of a mother. "You are half Viking, why do you think you look like you do? It took all my powers of persuasion to make your father believe that a quarter Russian girl could be such a pale blonde. Thank goodness for hijabs, so very few people have seen the color of your hair." She kissed me on the lips, something she had never done before. "It will be much easier for you. Your man has black hair like your husband and you are blonde. Walid will believe the child is his, no matter what the color of its hair."

"You had your Norwegian for a whole month," I said enviously. "I just had Jack for an hour. I want him again."

"You must never see him again, Zainab Habiba! Your child must be the only memory of your passion. Like you are for me."

* * *

I got a stupendous suite of rooms at the royal palace and my marriage settled into a routine. Walid visited me one night a week -- just like my father and mother. I tried to please him, but whenever he had a premature ejaculation or could not get an erection, he blamed me and beat me.

By my sixth month, my belly was so big that it became uncomfortable. My breasts grew bigger as well. Walid called me ugly and stopped visiting. It was a relief.

They ran regular tests and I soon learned why I was so big -- I was carrying twins! Mother came in my eighth month and took me back from the al Sura mansion in the capital to our remote oasis for the birthing. Walid did not come to the departure ceremony.

A week before I was due, Mother took me away from our home to our even more remote camel breeding station. There, in the heart of the barren desert, I gave birth to our twins -- a boy with black hair who looked like Jack and a pale blonde girl who looked like me.

* * *

The children were nearly three months old when Walid came to visit us for the first time in my suite in the royal palace.

"Very good," he said. "I like the boy you've given me. But I don't like the girl, too much of a Northerner. Like you."

I texted Jack that evening. We have a camel breeding station at Ras al Natheel. Can you get there?

Yes, he responded an hour later. By helicopter.

I can go there next month, I texted.

I thought you couldn't go anywhere without a chaperone.

My mother will chaperone me, I texted. Can you bring her friend with you?

Who? He responded.

A Norwegian.