2 comments/ 7714 views/ 4 favorites The Birthday of Ali By: Joe456 Anna was the first wife of Ali, a serious Jordanian engineer of 40. For a long time, she was the one. Anna loved Ali. She had loved him from the first day she met him at the university in her country where he went to study. There were plenty of handsome, healthy, strong and even smart Slavic boys, but she was used to them. That tall, handsome, righteous, brown-skinned guy, something like a desert prince, attracted her attention. And apart from his looks, there came his good qualities. Serious, able to engage in what he did, study or other things, and loyal. Slave to his word, so to say, and stern. Able to hold respect without bullying. The Russian boys tried to weigh him, put him to the test. No brawls, it was not a "zone", a jail, and not even a PTU, a technical institute for not so educated young men. It was a serious university, with excellent technical faculties which attracted students from abroad; especially from extra-European countries (it was cheaper than US "Alma Maters", after all). But men are men, males are males. They need to state who is the Alpha and who is not, and not only in Russia. Ways can change, but the process is the same. First, don't show your fear. He did not show it, nor tried to scare others, so as not to create a local coalition against himself. And the boys let him alone, even when he started to walk around with her. Even her family had nothing serious against their relations. Although they were all faithful orthodox Christians, they had friends of various religions (and even some stubborn atheists, heritage of Soviet times). They had been invited in many "Kurban Bairam" (Islamic celebration to commemorate the aborted sacrifice of Isaac on behalf of Abraham, concluded with the slaughter of a ram) by their friends and relatives down in Tatarstan, where another line of the family, converted to Islam before the end of USSR, lived in peace for decades. As her mother said, "Bog Odin": God is one. And besides religion, there was nothing a good parent could find weird in Ali. Especially when he completed his study's course there with a very good graduation, and asked Anna to marry him and follow him in his country. To ease the last worries, Ali, a Muslim from a country that allowed polygamy, had declared that Anna would be his one and only wife. And when he declared it, he really thought it. When he made this declaration, Anna had already wanted to belong to him body and soul. Mostly body of course. She had invited him at home, without telling him that her parents were out of town, And then, alone in the house with him, she had hugged him and kissed him on his mouth. Ali had tried to resist her beauty, her desire and his own nature, but he failed. He possessed her, as tenderly as he could, entering into her as in a mosque. Her body did not deserve to be simply overwhelmed and rammed. It was a wonderful field to plow, slowly, strongly and attentively. And so he did. And so it happened, many times. She had lost her maidenhead years before she knew him, and he knew that: she told him when their mutual feelings became serious and before they went to bed together. Ali had appreciated her honesty, and tolerated the rest. Such a woman, even if Christian and no longer a virgin was a natural born wife; a passport to happiness. A gift from Allah... To be fair and honest, Ali had to admit that those intimate meetings helped him to tolerate the weak points of Anna. Nothing acrobatic, Anna had never read "Kama Sutra", but she was warm (not "hot": warm), cosy, reassuring, and at the same time, passionate and yearning to learn. And Ali could be a good teacher. The Russian guys always treated Anna with respect, nobody had molested or tried to rape her (in that case, her father had given her a simple recipe: "knee in the balls and knuckles in the eyes, and run"...), But all her past bedfellows, to talk like a sport commentator, made stakes more on "agonsism" than on "fundamentals". They were strong, and Anna appreciated it, but even a bit "rough". Not so much foreplay, focused on themselves. Venial sins, of course. Too bad, with their strength and a bit more attention to her... they would have been real sex gods... But Ali was better. He let her feel his male strength, as in the air, but was tender. He kissed her twice or thrice the times the Russian boys did, everywhere, even where she felt embarrassed to be kissed, and where the Russian boys never did, and likely never would have ("not a manly thing!"). And the effect was indescribable for her. She was very surprised to know that he learned his "fundamentals" not from some western book or kinky journal, but on the Koran itself. "Don't assail your women like rams...". Then he refined his theoretical knowledge with another Islamic book: "The perfumed garden", of sheik Al Nafzawi. More or less, the Islamic Kama Sutra (and so, very often hated by many extreme fundamentalist Muslims). A gift from an uncle, wise and a bon vivant. The most useful gift he ever had in his life - before Anna. And things did not change when they came to Jordan. His big family gave them friendly greetings. Jordan was quite a tolerant state, being an Islamic monarchy. Women could work; hijab (the veil) was very appreciated, but never compulsory (out of mosques, of course). Ali opened an office on his own, and for a while Anna helped him, as a secretary and even with some projects, but then she decided to become mostly a housewife. Even then, Anna always loved when she had the chance to visit her husband on some building ground. She liked to see him giving order and instruction to all those who asked for them, without a doubt, like a real officer on the front. And to think that that strong and self-assured man, who gave orders to other strong men, and to whom all the other strong men obeyed instantly, was HER own man. He never gave "orders" to her. He did not ever ask her to change her religion. A Christian woman can marry a Muslim man without problems (while the opposite could even cause BIG problems, even in a moderate State as Jordan), and Ali was too educated, and satisfied of her as a wife, to argue with her on religious matters. It was she after a while, that began to think that it was proper for her and her new family, that she uttered the "shahada" and became a good Muslim wife. This did not change anything in her relation with Ali, who remained loving and respectful as before, neither more, nor less. But it was a wonderful gift for his mother. The old but very healthy and good-looking Arab lady has greeted her with courtesy, to please Ali, her only male son, and she had answered with a great respect, and two healthy blonde grandchildren that the old lady simply adored. She got used to having them with her as much as possible, to give Anna and Ali more time for pamper each other (and eventually, to give her more nice grandchildren...). But when Anna took that decision freely, out of love for her husband, that "foreign woman" became precious for her as her own eyes. She maintained a special devotion for "Mariam", as the Muslim call "the mother of the prophet Issa" (Jesus), tributing to her a peculiar respect, and more or less the same special characteristics that Orthodox (and Catholics) acknowledge to the "Mother of God" (that is, the same person). But for the rest, she showed respect for the rules of her new faith, without the fanaticism of the neophytes (Ali would had not loved it), but seriously and thoroughly: hijab, Ramadan, and all the rest. It was not so strange that Ali never thought to have more than one wife. As a matter of fact, most Muslims never thought to have the four wives allowed by Koran. Ali had decided that, for him, even two wives were too much. Economically, maybe, he could allow himself that. But he did not think he could be "fair" with two women, let alone with three, or four. And the Koran allowed the four women only to those who could be "fair" with each of them. Too hard for a single man! Yes, the old men said that four wives were better. Four was the perfect number. Each wife found a friend among the others. A self-sustaining structure in the best case, but in the worst case? What would happen if no wife found a friend, and everyone hated all the others? Hell is less dangerous than a scorned woman. What about four scorned women? Oh, Allah, save all of us... The real truth was: Anna was enough for him. "Enough" in the best meaning of the word. She gave him all he needed. Love, an intelligent person to talk with, a cosy house, well educated sons and, of course, sex. She gave back to him all the pleasure he gave her, and even a bit more, maybe. Sexual pleasure, in Islamic culture, is not bad: it's a way God chose to give men a first taste of Heaven. And Ali was sure to have a quite detailed first idea of it. Thanks to Anna. He liked to lie below her, pretending to be tired by the work, and see her, all of her, astride over him, impaled on his dick and happy of it, naked. Most of all, naked. Her healthy body, her corn-blonde hair, her swollen breasts, her sincere, beautiful blue-green eyes. Her way of giving herself to him, looking in his eyes, knowing her sweet, strong female power over him, but never trying to abuse it. She never just opened her legs and let him do. She created for him a real garden of earthly delights. A "Russian paradise", as her beloved Isaac Babel wrote. She knew and loved his body, inch by inch, and now she was not embarrassed to accept his kisses, and even less to give him tit for tat. Wherever. Looking at her in the street, dressed as a good and modest Muslim woman, with her well chosen hijabs and her light coloured, simple long fabric woman's overcoat, nobody could even imagine what a female she could be for her man. And thank Allah, HE was her man... His mother still smiled remembering how he described her by phone, when he informed the family of his love for her. "She is wise as Kadija, and beautiful as a Houri". Kadija was the first wife of the prophet Mohamed, be always blessed his name, a great woman who helped his husband to escape from the life of a poor orphan and was his first follower. And the Houri... "How is her hair?" she had asked her besotted son. "She is blonde, she is Russian", he answered. It was obvious. "The Houri have black eyes and black hair", she recalled, smiling. "Those are technicalities, mother", he answered. He already talked like a real engineer... The years, the sons, the normal daily problems, even the unavoidable discussions any family of any religion has to meet every now and then, had not changed the situation between them. Anna knew how to stand for her points, even to contradict Ali about them, without questioning his authority in the family or making him doubt of her feelings for him. She had read the works of Islamic women who treated the matters of women's right on an Islamic basis, so she knows how far she could go, and went that far, with sensitivity and love for her man, but firmly. And Ali kept thanking Allah to have met her and got her to leave her country to live with him. It was not because he was sick and tired of her, or because he wanted something more, that Aisha came in her lives. She just came. Aisha came to Amman, the Jordan capital, from the provinces, looking for help from a distant relative. The relative was Ali (not exactly a "relative": more a matter of "clan" than of "family"), and he gave her all the help he could, without subjecting her to his lust, not a single time. But he had his lust, and Aisha, even without wishing it, even wearing hijab and all the rest, had all it took to arouse the males' lust. Before committing something unforgivable, Ali decided to talk about it to Anna. One evening they made love and Anna gave her best, kissed him wherever, without making exception for his sex, all the way round, dedicating many attentions to it. She hosted it in her mouth, caressed it with her tongue and her lips, slowly, with affection. It was a part of her man, her husband, her love, her lord, nothing more, but nothing less... But he did not want to possess her in that wrong hole. He took her long hair, as taking a mare by the reins, and she obeyed to him, like a well tamed mare. She left his dick, put herself on all four, and let her prince of the desert ride her, strongly and calmly, from behind, until she felt his warm, strong, abundant semen flood in her body, giving her the last push for orgasm. "Insh' Allah", she would have had more sons or daughters from her man, for him and for her. "Insh'Allah", nothing would have happened... She had done what she could. And she had enjoyed doing it, as always. He allowed her to taste his semen on his dick, now that the bulk of it had gone where it had to go. His semen, of course, was mixed with her own moisture, but this was not a problem for her. He loved that moisture, its taste, its smell. The smell of his wife. His woman, his love, his mare, his field to take care of...The best wife he could find... And he was thinking about another woman. How imperfect we are... "Anna..." he said, when she lay at his side, after a kiss to his chest. She had his semen and her own moisture on her tongue, it was not the time for a kiss in the mouth... "Yes?" Silence. "I have to tell you something." "Regarding what?" "Regarding Aisha..." He could still tell her, with clear conscience, to be faithful to their pledge in the flesh, if not in the thoughts. And Anna knew that, and had no doubt of him. But she was conscious that her man was walking upon a tight rope. She had met Aisha, and she knew that she was an honest girl. And a beautiful girl too. Not more beautiful than her. Just...Different. The typical middle-eastern beautiful girl. Black hair and black eyes, just like a Huri, strong glances, proud attitude. And she was younger than her. It was nobody's fault. Aisha was miles away from the idea to steal her husband, but she was in the blood of Ali, under the skin of Ali already. And maybe she too loved Ali, or at least desired him. It would have been normal: Ali was a good man, a good husband, a nice and strong male. And he desired her, it was clear. Even if he fought against this desire with his strong character that had always helped him. To go to Russia, to be respected from the local guys, to graduate with top class votes, to conquer her hearth, her brains and, consequently, her body and her sex... But maybe not this time. "Marry her." she said. Ali looked at her, as surprised as never in his life. Anna was talking seriously. It was not the sarcasm of a woman wounded in her proud and her feelings. She was tranquil. "Marry her?" he muttered. "Yes. What else could you do? Go to bed with her, as with a "shabuda"? She doesn't deserve it. I could even pretend that nothing is happening, hoping that you get tired of her. But it would be unfair. The other way is fair, and better. You marry her, you stay with me, and she does not lose her reputation. And I don't have to sit on the riverbank, waiting for the corpse of the enemy. I don't want to see her corpse." "But I promised that you would have been the one..." "I free you from this promise. Now and forever." Ali was perfectly conscious that Anna's choice was a great, huge, gigantic proof of love for him. So gigantic that he was not sure he deserved it. To be worthy of it. "No need for that," he said, without looking at her. "Just say a word, and I send her back to her parents. I did what I could for her, now she will have less problems. She does not need me anymore." Anna smiled, looking at her strong man as at a child. He was talking seriously too, he was sure to tell the truth. He thought himself as a saint, a warrior, capable of keeping at bay his male lust, his male nature, his "fitna", for the whole life. Because he loved her. But he was just a man. And he loved Aisha too. Not all men can love two women, but he was not 'all men'. He was HER man, her RARE man. No, it was not just "fitna", between him and Aisha. "Marry her," she insisted. "I am agreeable." They discussed the matter with Ali's mother, and she agreed with Anna: the marriage was the best solution for all of them, Aisha and even the "clan", who would be reinforced by the new ties. In the Jordanian society, the "clans", something like confederations of families, have quite an importance, even if not as in other middle-Eastern, Caucasian, central Asian and north African countries. Ali was still worried. He was afraid of getting caught in a crossfire of female jealousies, hate, incompatible characters and something alike. He would have been sorry to do that silly, rude but sometimes necessary thing: to show who is in command, who "calls the tune". Of course it was he, the man. But Aisha was wise enough to understand that Anna remained the first, especially in the heart of Ali. And Anna was wise enough for not too push too hard on it. The marriage was greatly celebrated by the "clan". A real, wonderful Arab feast. The members of the clan already knew and respected Anna: a good wife, a good mother, a new, real "believer". Now they had a new reason to respect her: she, a Christian woman from birth and culture. a woman from the western world, had accepted sharing her man with another woman, out of love for her man. Not in some shadowy way, but following the law of Allah. She had even proposed to her man that choice, renouncing his pledge to hold her as his one and only wife. She had become almost a saint for the clan, a reason of pride. And Ali, maybe, the most envied male of all... Ali had done all he could to "be fair" with both his wives, from every point of view (a flat for each, etc.). And after the marriage, he passed his first night with Aisha. It was a good night of love and sex, of another kind of sex. The heat of Anna was the heat of a fireside, of a big stove, something tranquil, constant, to keep the cold away from the house. Ali had fancied many times, he and Anna, in a log cab, hugging each other under blankets made of furs, with all the snow and the cold of the Russian winter just out there...), the heat of Aisha was real heat, fire, lust at the pure state. Her sex was hottest than that of Anna, and so her skin, her kisses, her moans... And when Ali met Anna, after that, he was still thinking of Aisha. Only human, but he was embarrassed. To look at his first love, and think about the body of the other, the smell of the other, the taste of the other... "What is that, Ali?" she asked. He looked at her, smiled. "Are you worried", he said. "No. Why should I be?" "You think, maybe the other is younger than me, hotter than me...She is of his race, more akin to him..." "Well, I guess it's so." "Because I said it?" "Because it's so," she shrugged. "She IS younger than me, she maybe IS hotter than me... and she surely IS of your race." "Yes, you're right, it's so. But you don't have to worry". "I am NOT worried." "I mean... You and Aisha are... different. But I am a lucky man, because I have both of you." "Right. And we are lucky, because we have you." "Uh, well...maybe..." he said. Anna smiled. "So what's the problem?" "Well... I am afraid that... I am still thinking to her... You know... We have made... Uh!" Anna shrugged just a bit. Of course they have made love. He went there for that... "It was time for you to do that." she said. "You had to be fair with her..." "Well, yes, but...You know, she was born in Islam. She knew that she could have to share her man with other women... But you didn't. You desired a man on your own, I know, it was natural for you. And now... It's heavy for you, I know. Maybe it's been unfair, on my behalf... I... should have resisted, send her back home. I owed it to you... Even if you said..." The Birthday of Ali Anna shook her head, snorting. No, there was nothing to worry about. Ali belonged to her, and always would have belonged to her. In his mind, in his heart. Since HE worried about THAT... poor Ali... Regardless of his education, his culture, his religion, regardless of EVERYTHING, Ali felt GUILTY. Towards HER. As if he had BETRAYED her, with a "shabuda", a whore whatsoever. But it was NOT so. Anna called him to come closer to her, took is beautiful, virile and worried face between her hands and kissed him in the middle of his forehead. Not on the mouth like a lover in fear of loose him. On the forehead. Ali had understood all he had to understand already, but she talked all the same. "I am Muslim, now. I live here, I know the rules, I understand them, I accept them. And I love you. Whatever thing you have done with Aisha, you had the right to do it. She is your wife, just like me. But if you need me to forgive you, then I forgive you." In that moment, Ali loved his first wife as he never loved her before. He loved her so much that he did not ever managed to formulate in his male mind the trivial, lustful desire to have her. At least, not so quickly... As Ali was not the "typical" Muslim fundamentalist (and "macho"), Anna come from a country where "feminism", at least in the "American" version, had had a scarce success. She did not consider herself at war with the male gender, and as for the rest, she knew how to impose respect, and even to rule, really rule, in a house, without too many conflicts which were useful to nobody. That's why they lived together well. And Ali never thought to live without her, not even when the passion for Aisha was beating harder in his head. Between her and Anna, he would have chosen Anna, even if not without sorrow. He had thought to get the permission of Anna for a one-off with Aisha, but, on second thought, this was not a good idea, and Anna was right: a one-off would have been humiliating for Aisha and not enough for him. Just a chop, a single treat, is never enough. Especially a single chop of a woman like Aisha... of a female like Aisha... After all, Anna had acted like a real good engineer. She had weighed pros and cons as if they were weights and counterweights, loads, stress limits including her own. She had decided that between an adulterous husband, a faithful husband always sad for his denied love (self-denied, but always denied) and a happy and loving husband with another wife, the third solution, quite paradoxically, was the best one. She had not proposed to Ali to become polygamous out of fear of being repudiated in favour of the younger, unwilling rival. Even if Ali would have decided in that sense, granting her all the rights that the Jordanian laws allowed to the divorced wives, of course (and even something more, because he was he), she would not have remained hard up on the street. She had a job in her head. Even if she could not have opened a firm on her own in Amman, or in Jordan, even in that worst case, she could even come back to Russia. Her family had never repudiated her, not even when she had become a "believer". They would have been sad for the end of a good marriage, with a good young man, but they would have helped her, without any doubt. Her experience in an Arabic country and her now fluent Arabic language would have been very valuable in finding another job, maybe in some big energetic company, Gasprom, Lukoil, Rosneft... Come to think about it, it was a good plan to find a job right now, if she would have wanted. No need to divorce, for that. No. She did not want a job. She was not afraid of being rejected for merely economic reasons. She just wanted to live with Ali, to love him, to take care of him. With or without Aisha. Some time later there was Ali's birthday. It was his first birthday after the marriage with Aisha. The friends who had had to listen his preaching in praise of monogamy for years and years had a good time mocking him a bit. But besides that, nobody had anything bad to say. Everybody, man or woman of the family, knew what an honest man was Ali, and all the women were sure he would have been a good husband too, no matter if for one of two wives (their own husbands, instead...). The informal council of the women of the clan had decided that Ali had married Aisha, with the consent of Anna, not for purely "manly" reason (a younger woman, etc.), but to keep helping her, as well as possible. After all, the most noble function of polygamy was that: to help the widows, and generally, women in distress in the ancient societies deprived of welfare state. Anna did neither confirm nor deny this version. The women of the family were very forthcoming with advice for Anna. They wanted to know if the new situation created problems for her, and gave her hints on how to face them eventually. Anna did not notice big problems, but she understood that the other women liked to share their experiences, and their will to help her was another 'welcome-to-the-club'. They too, as did all the clan, like that good woman, wife and mother, but they still considered her quite inexperienced for some aspects of their way of life: she was a stranger, and so much younger than them... So Anna accepted their advice, nodding and thanking, sincerely grateful to them for their good intentions. She only reacted when some woman tried to know, without too much tactfulness, the real reason of her marriage, or how she, Ali and Aisha managed their personal (not to say 'intimate') deals. Then she drew out her Russian, harshly defensive character: 'mode Stalingrad', as Ali joked sometimes. Ali knew how to manage her in those situations, as a good rider knows how to calm his mare without hurting her. But for the women of the family it was quite unexpected that she could be so defiant. And some of them remembered that they had criticized Ali when he had married that "Christian" woman. Not a "crusader", sure, she was not American or the like. But, always "Christian" she was... Before it was too late, the friends began to leave Ali's house. He accompanied each of them down to the road and came back. He did not drink a drop of alcohol, of course. On the other hand, he had had a lot of the good tea Aisha and Anna prepared so well (normal "chai" or mint tea, now they knew how to prepare both). Maybe for that, or maybe because he had eaten quite a lot too, he was a bit sleepy and numb. He offered to accompany Aisha to her flat, at the upper floor, but she wanted to help Anna to set up the house, and Anna did not allow him to help them, not even cleaning the dishes (unheard-of concession to the "western" mores). She just sent him away to sleep, if he wanted. He went and lay on the bed and listened to them chatting while they worked. Anna had learned a very less "scholastic" Arab language, thanks to Aisha: she taught her the language of the countryside, and even some saucy puns... It was strange how well they had mixed with each other. He had done what he could, being fair and impartial, but it was not all his own: he knew 'Who' to thank for it... And not only for that... He recalled the first word of "The Perfumed Garden": "Praise Allah, who has put the biggest happiness of the man in the body of the woman, and vice versa' (his uncle preferred to give him a quite educational version, from the lexical point of view)... And too bad if sometimes a woman is not enough for us, as imperfect as we are. What is important is to be always enough for a woman. Or for two... "Ali..." Alì opened his eyes. He had nodded off. And now Anna and Aisha were in front of him. But why were they dressed as if they wanted to get on the street? Hijabs, down-to-the-ground overcoat... They were so beautiful, all the day, with their sweaters and tight trousers on their nice bodies... "Yes?" he uttered. "Well...Maybe you did notice that we did not give you any gift today..." "Uh...doesn't matter... Now it's too late to buy something... And can be dangerous to go out... It's getting dark..." He looked at the window. It was already dark, indeed. "But we don't want to go out..." said Anna with a smile. She looked Aisha, and Aisha nodded, smiling too. "No?" asked Ali, even more surprised. "No..." said Anna, looking straight at him. A single, synchronized move of the two women, and both fabric overcoat felt to the ground. And they remained naked, besides hijab. "This is our gift..." Ali looked as his two wives got on the big double bed where he lay. Two wonderful bodies, a milk-white-skinned Slavic woman and a darker, burnished Arab girl. They mounted the bed and came close to him on four legs, slow and dangerous as lionesses on the hunt. Their loving and cheerful eyes fixed on him. "Anna...Maybe this is not good...it's not 'halal'..." said Ali. He was not sure he could possess his two wives in the same day... On the same bed... He never thought to have two wives, so he never asked his mullah about such cases... even after the marriage, he just though it would have never happened. He never read what Koran said about it, to have a personal idea, as a Sunni Muslim can do. And now it was too late... "Maybe it IS 'halal'... It's your day... we are your wives... We love you... You do not force us... We just want to make love with you..." "But...together..." "And THIS is our gift. Two women for you, together. You can make love with us, when your want, just without making inequalities between us... And how can you make inequalities doing it with both of us together?" "Uh... Maybe you are right..." "And if not, you can ask to the mullah tomorrow, and tell him your two luscious wives had tempted you... And you are just a man..." smiled Anna. "Let him state our punishment, if any, and punish us as it takes. We will accept it, from you. And only from you." "Hm," nodded Ali. And he hoped he never had to punish those two wonderful women, and wives. Anna got closes to him, he felt her breath on his face. "Happy birthday, Ali..." she said, kissing him. Aisha too kissed him, just a bit lower, still very far from his sex. But very soon, they both reached there... "Not in your mouths... THIS is not... " moaned Ali. The caresses of those two tongues, of those lips, were too sweet and enticing tor him to resist too long. Anna and Aisha looked at each other, Anna nodded and Aisha put herself on all four. She would have Ali first. A courtesy for the newcomer. Ali penetrated her, while Anna put herself behind him, body to body, her breasts against the shoulder blades of her man, her womb against his tail bone... She closed her eyes, feeling the strength of the male on her skin. Strength that was enough for both, for sure... She purred like a cat, while Aisha began to moan stronger, speared, occupied and plowed by that strong man who belonged to her too... and to whom she belonged... she too... Yes, she knew that maybe a man shared with other women was in her destiny... And a co-wife as wise and friendly as Anna was not the worst possible fate...Let alone a man, a male, a master, a stud like Ali... Good for two women, no doubt... not only in bed, but EVEN in bed... She closed her eyes, happy to be alive, to be female, to be possessed by Ali, her man, her lawful man... Lawful! She was not a "shabuda", she was making love with her husband... her beloved husband... Oh, Allah... How wise are your laws... Ali felt his sex surrounded and gently clinched by the hot sex of Aisha, and the sweet body of Anna behind him. The flesh of his younger wife adhered perfectly, completely to his dick, while she let it go back and forth inside her. Anna maybe preferred not to look at his dick, while he sank into another female body, another female sex... No, she was looking at it, then she looked in his eyes. "Take her strongly, like a man. Don't think about me, while you do it... Enjoy her, make her happy... But keep some strength for me," she whispered. He nodded, and she put again her head behind his neck, waiting for her turn... Ali was unable to find the words to thank her, Aisha, and of course, Allah, for what he was feeling... And he had very much time, and very many reasons to thank all of them... But in the heat of the night, awaken to something he did not know how to define, with the warm, tender bodies of his women sleeping on his sides, one to the left, one to the right, he decided that, yes: he HAD to ask his mullah. Was it 'halal', or not?