Zainab the Princess

"You're so tight," he groaned. "Two children and still tight as a virgin!"

"Walid has a very small organ," I said, nodding my head toward my snoring husband. "But even he finds me tight."

"I waited so long for this, Zainab Habiba! To see you wearing nothing but your hijab!"

"Yes, I told you I'm a modest Arab woman, Jack," I gasped, as he began to work his huge organ in me. "Omigod! Fuck me, Jack! Fuck me hard!"

Every time I looked over to see my snoring husband, I grew more excited. As Jack fucked me, I rotated my hips aggressively using my warm tightness to create even more friction. I came, again and again, harder each time. He went on much longer than I remembered in our airport encounter, just continuing to pound me. I grew lightheaded with my continual orgasms, but he did not stop. We were both covered with sweat, our bodies sliding against one another's.

Finally, I reached the point where I had no more energy and just straddled him, supporting myself with my hands on his chest.

"Take me now, Jack," I panted. "I have nothing left."

Jack exploded, almost as though he was responding to me. I felt his cockhead spraying thick, viscous semen deep inside me. I just lay down on him and let him pump his load into me through thrust after thrust. When he was finally still, I think I passed out.

The next thing I knew, it was three in the morning, I was cuddling in Jack's arms, and he was whispering in my ear.

"I'm hard again. Are you too sore?"

"I'm tired and sore," I whispered back. "But don't let that stop you. My husband lying there like a log makes everything so much more exciting!"

Jack fucked me three more times that night.

I caressed his body as the sun slanted into the suite at dawn.

"How did you get all these scars?" I asked. "Bullet pockmarks, knife slashes, surgical incisions, rips, and tears ... all over you!"

"The army," he said. "In combat."

"You must have been in so many battles!"

"A few firefights," he said with a shrug. "I was always the lucky one."

"So many wounds! So much pain! You call that lucky?"

"I'm alive," he said. "The unlucky ones are dead."

* * *

Of course, I made sure to get Walid's seed in me several times during the rest of our trip. We returned to Qatar a month later after stops in Europe. Two weeks after we got home, I discovered I was pregnant.

"I impregnated you in America," gloated Walid. "I should name the child after the heroes who brought down the twin towers."

It was just one baby this time, a girl. Her hair turned blonde after a few weeks and her big eyes turned bright blue -- Jack's eyes. I could see him in her.

"Another blonde girl," said Walid, disgusted. "I would rather not see her."

I texted pictures of her to Jack.

She's almost as beautiful as her mother, he texted back.

I knew I would never see him again, so I was crying as I replied -- tears that Walid could never squeeze from me with all his beatings.

We only had a few precious hours together. But you have given me so many tender memories, as well as three children to love. You call yourself all manner of bad things, a scumbag, an asshole, a guttersnipe, a bastard. But to me, you will always be the man who gave me happiness, the like of which I will never know again. This mongrel desert girl, uncouth, uncivilized, will always love you.