7 comments/ 66899 views/ 2 favorites For Married Eyes Only Ch. 02 By: Lost_Yonder Susan opened up a new world to me, a world of unbridled sex, uncomplicated by the neurosis of singleness that plagues the dating scene. When I met Susan I was single myself but found myself entangled by a deep desire of sleeping with married women. At first it confused me, feeling shamed by drawing women into an adulterous relationship. But as I discovered more and more married women, I realized that rarely was it I drawing them into a moral quandary, but they opening up, seeking out their own fulfillment and sexual desires. Admittedly, on a few occasions I have no doubt my own directness and boldness in approaching them tempted them into something they would never have acted out on their own. While Susan planted the seed of the sheer joy of sex with married women, the next few encounters I had strengthened the roots as the plant began to bloom. DC is the mother load of "loving wives." It is a city of tourists and international expatriates; it is a city of mobility with people coming and going; and a city where everyone is on the make. Soon, I too entered the ranks of seeking out new conquests among the wives of diplomats, political appointees and wannabes. *** My night with Susan was mind-boggling. She made me feel so turned on by flaunting her married status and freely fulfilling her desires, and mine. After waking me up in the middle of the night with a final blowjob, it was difficult for me to get out of bed and walk her home. Fortunately, it was only two blocks away. I walked back to my apartment dazed and confused. It was two o'clock in the morning and I definitely needed sleep. Fortunately, my internal dialogue with myself about feeling wrong by being so turned on by having sex with a married woman petered out by the time I stripped and crawled back into bed. It was a circular argument going nowhere with questions of innocent victims, unfulfilled desires, the sanctity of marriage, women's rights to sexual freedom all whirling around my head. I awoke by seven in the morning and decided it was a perfect day for a long bike ride to mark the beginning of my 30th year. After a hardy breakfast I suited up in my bike gear, filled my water bottles, grabbed several energy bars and an apple and headed out the door. It was nine o'clock on a Saturday morning and the traffic was light so I decided to ride across the Potomac and then head down the bike path along the George Washington Parkway towards Mr. Vernon, one of my favorite rides for a relaxing time. I took the ride slow, stopping a few times to check out the scenery. Once I reached Mt. Vernon I road off to the picnic area in order to watch the many tourists come and go and to eat my apple. Sitting at a table near me was a family, with two young children running around. I didn't have a good view of the woman, but just looking at her turned me on; I started to get a hard-on. From what I could tell she wasn't particularly attractive, there was nothing about her that would excite one, yet my cock was pressing against my tight latex shorts, causing quite a bit of discomfort, as I imagined what it would be like licking and sucking on her tits. What the fuck? I thought to myself. I looked away in time to see a small tour bus pull up and a group getting down. Again, looking at the women with their husbands I found myself with a sizable and very uncomfortable hard-on. In the past, I had been turned-on by married women, but I was turned-on by their looks; if she is good looking being single or married didn't matter. But now, it isn't her looks, it's whether she has a wedding band on or not! This apparent and dramatic shift in the focus of my desires sparked by my night with Susan was dramatic. Or was it? Was it these married women that turned me on or were they merely triggers reminding me of my amazing night with Susan. Certainly, it was the later. I figured what I needed was an hour with Won, and settled on getting that full-service massage I promised myself yesterday. After sitting for a while longer I stopped worrying about my moral well-being. I did some stretch exercises and prepared for the ride back to the city. The ride was a perfect opportunity of emptying my mind of any further thoughts of Susan, married women, and even of Won. Once back across the Potomac I weaved my way through the Saturday afternoon traffic back to my apartment. I hate riding in the city, but on that particular day, it was a welcome distraction, my mind focused on the traffic. Just one block from my apartment a car swerved right in front of me, nearly forcing me into a parked car on the side of the street. Fortunately I had been slowing down and was able to stop before I hit the car. "Are you fucking crazy?" I yelled, as the driver sped off, unaware or uncaring what they had just done. I noticed that the car park a few houses beyond mine and I saw a woman jump out and go across the street and enter into an apartment where a moving crew was packing up the contents and piling them into a truck parked on the street. I was half tempted to go knock on her door and berate her for being so careless but decided with the movers around it wasn't the appropriate time. Instead, I got home, carried my bike into my ground-floor apartment and opted for doing some stretching exercises before jumping into the shower. Once showering, I soaked for a long while, enjoying the hot spray on my soar muscles. As I started to dry myself off I heard the doorbell ring. The doorbell? Nobody ever stops by. It wasn't Susan, was it? I wondered. I wrapped the towel around my waste tightly and walked out to see who was there. "I'm so sorry! I guess today is my day to abuse you," a good-looking, late-30ish, early-40ish woman said, laughing nervously. I must have been looking at her with a very confused look. I couldn't place her. "I beg your par..." I started. "You don't recognize me? I guess I made my escape earlier quick enough! I am so very sorry, but I'm the one who nearly ran you off the road a little bit ago." Of course; though she had changed her clothes since I saw her dash from her car an hour earlier. "I really must apologize! It's just that, well it's just one of those days. One of those weeks, really. I should've stopped. I shouldn't have swerved. I'm just running around, all these last minute things to take care of." She was talking a mile a minute, rambling on and on. What I could gather was: she was in the process of moving back to Chicago, her husband moved already about two weeks earlier to start his new job, she stayed on with the kids so they could finish the school year and were now with her parents in Ohio somewhere, and she was left to take care of all the packing, deal with the movers, and to say goodbye to all of her friends. Apparently, she was rushing home to be there when the movers finished packing up the truck. They left 30 minutes earlier with all her belongings, though she was staying one more night at a friend's before driving to Ohio to pick up her two kids before heading over to Chicago. Somewhere along the way the phone rang, putting an abrupt end to her rambling and finally gaving me a chance to say something. "Come on in and close the door while I get that." "I seem to be troubling you too much today. I am so sorry. Maybe I should get going, I do have to finish packing up my personal things and getting the plants loaded up." She started to go on and on, as I slowly started backing down the hall, indicating I had to get the telephone in sign language. She whispered, "I'm sorry" as I picked up the phone. She sure did apologize a lot. As I suspected, telemarketers for one of the useless long distance telephone companies. I just hung up. "By the way, I'm Duncan." "Oh yes, I'm sorry, I never even introduced myself. I'm Lynn. I guess I should get going. I am sorry for earlier. I would have brought you some cookies or something as a peace offering, but, well, no kitchen." Though she was saying she was going, she stood there looking around the apartment. "You have some interesting objects. Did you collect them yourself? What is this?" I realized I was still in my towel and should have stepped into my room for a second to change, but somewhere, something clicked and I decided to ignore my dress for the moment. Not only was she married; she was actually quite an attractive woman. Her wavy auburn hair flowed down to her shoulders, framing her long face and high cheekbones. Most alluring was her long neck. Regretfully, she was wearing a t-shirt under a frock; not a particularly sexy way of dressing, and no hint of cleavage. From what I could gather though she did have nice sized breasts and a thin body. "In the Smithsonian they call that a 'Dogon ritual ladder,' used for performing animistic rites. However, I call it a step-ladder for climbing up onto the roof." Now it was her turn to look confused. "The Dogon are an animistic community in Mali, in western Africa. They live in caves and use such ladders to climb up and down the cliff face. Actually, different people throughout Mali use such ladders to climb up onto their mud hut roofs to dry grass and other things. You can get any local carpenter to make you one for about the equivalent of five dollars. The museum makes them out to be some special item, which they aren't." "Wow, fascinating, when were you in Africa?" "About three years ago doing some field research over the summer with one of my professors. We were in northern Mali for about two months. A very rich place, the people were so warm and hospitable. I would love to go back." "It seems you have traveled a bit." "I've been fortunate. By the way, would you like some coffee or tea? It seems like you need a little break from all your packing and moving." "No, I shouldn't trouble you. I've already caused you enough trouble today. I should get going." There she was again talking about leaving without making any kind of move. Rather than ask or insist I just went into the kitchen area and put some ground coffee and water into the coffee maker and switched it on. "No, you really shouldn't. It isn't necessary." "No problem, besides I'm ready for a little coffee after my ride and near accident this morning." I said, laughing, trying to lighten her mood a little. She looked at me sheepishly and smiled. Standing in the kitchen, I watched her checking out my little collection of art objects. Her breasts were nicely shaped, pulling against her frock. I found myself getting noticeably hard. With a towel wrapped around your waist, one can't hide a hard-on very easily, except by staying behind a kitchen counter! What did I have to lose? She was here on her own free will; she is moving in a few hours; she didn't seem in a rush to leave; she never seemed to mind me being in just a towel; she was attractive; she was married. Now my cock was twitching under the towel. Rather than shock her by my very visible hard-on, I thought it best to try and be a little more subtle and concentrated on the coffee making instead of Lynn. "Black? Or with cream and sugar?" "What?" she said, coming out of her concentrated examination of the things in my apartment. "Oh, yes; cream and just one spoon of sugar." She smiled, running her hand through her hair, leaving her fingers entangled, her palm resting on her cheek, a soft smile on her lips. God, did she have a beautiful smile. God, did I want to jump her right then and there. No, concentrate on the coffee, the cream, and sugar. Yes, cream; I wanted to cream in her mouth. No, no, not now; my two selves kept arguing. Open the fridge and get the milk that should help cool you down. My cock, though still semi-hard, was hidden enough now by the towel that I ventured back into the living room, handing Lynn a mug of coffee. "What's one of your favorite countries?" she asked. "Hmmm, everyone always asks that. Each place has its own charms. I loved Greece and the white beaches, but Thailand was pretty spectacular." "Thailand? Was it the country or the girls that were spectacular?" she asked with a crocked smile. "Both," I said laughing. "Do you always serve your guests wearing a towel?" "Sorry, I can go change if you like." "Whatever you are comfortable in." "Oh, well then I might really shock you as I much prefer hanging around in the nude." Laughing, she said, "Dang, I knew I should have invested in a pair of binoculars to spy on my neighbors." "Yes, too bad. You would have had quite the show. Though I think I'm the one who missed out on spying on you. And now you are leaving." "Be careful young man, I'm married." I laughed at that; if she only knew. "You seem much more relaxed then when you first stopped by. Moving is certainly stressful, particularly when you have to do it on your own. A little diversion and release is always good." "Diversions have their place." That was a good enough invitation for me, at least in the state I was in. I placed my mug on the coffee table and stepped closer to her. Using both hands I removed my towel and threw it over the chair. "What? What are you doing? Oh please, get dressed!" Though shocked, it didn't keep her from staring at my growing cock. Like earlier, she said one thing and did another, expressing her true desires, or so I interpreted. I stepped into her and she automatically looked up as I bent down and kissed her. She tried pushing me back, but without much force. Her lips remained sealed despite my attempts to invade her mouth with my tongue. She pulled back her head, breaking the kiss. "Duncan, please don't. This isn't right." As was her pattern, her body betrayed her. Despite the words to stop, she didn't move, she didn't run away. I leaned in again and met her lips; this time there was little resistance. Her mouth slowly opened, her tongue welcoming mine as it danced around. We kissed a few minutes, swallowing our moans, our panting increasing. I pressed my naked body harder against her and felt her push back, rubbing her hips against my cock, hard and trapped between our bodies. Breaking the kiss, I leaned into her ear, kissing it gently, whispering, "You are so beautiful. You want this don't you? This is why you stopped by, isn't it? This is how you want to make up to me for nearly running me over earlier, isn't it?" She remained silent, perhaps troubled by her own thoughts, her own desires. Perhaps embarrassed by the exposure of her intentions. Perhaps just losing herself in the moment of passion. Rather than push her, I stepped away and looked hard into her eyes. She did look confused. I wasn't going to push her. Placing my hand on her left cheek, I kissed her right cheek. "I'll be in the bedroom," I whispered. I then walked away. Was I insane? I had her. One more kiss, my hands roaming over her luscious body and she would have melted. Instead I left her standing there alone with her doubts. In one direction was the hallway to the outside door and her home across the street, in the other, my bedroom. I walked down the hall not looking back to see if she would join me or leave. I lay down on the bed and waited. Silence. It seemed like minutes had passed, but I doubt it was more than 30 seconds. I heard her dress rustle as she started to walk, her footsteps nearing the bedroom. While I wanted to smile cockily, I greeted her instead with a warm, comforting smile as she walked through my bedroom door. "We shouldn't be doing this," she confided, her actions contradicting her words. "Remove your dress," I commanded her. We locked eyes as she reached around her and undid the zipper on the back of her dress. She pulled the straps off of her shoulders and let the dress drop to the floor. Without saying anything, she lifted her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it on the floor as well. Still staring at one another, no sound but our heavy breathing, she again reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding it off her breasts and dropping it beside her. Lynn was beautiful, standing there in her panties. She bit her lower lip as I eyed her. Her breasts were perfect, very firm, no sagging despite being around 40 and having two kids. Her stomach was trim and her legs were also firm, I guessed she was a jogger. Her hips were full, and her panties were wet. I looked back up into her eyes; I flicked my eyes down to her crotch, indicating she should remove her panties, without saying a word. She bent down and slid them off then walked over to the bed and crawled in next to me, lying on her right side facing me. "I shouldn't be here," she said quietly. "You are so gorgeous. Your skin is so smooth," I said rubbing my hand over her body. As I cusped her breast she let out a big sigh, closing her eyes. I slid down the bed, kissing her neck, her beautiful long neck. I kissed my way down between her breasts as I continued to fondle and tease her tits and nipples. I gently rolled her onto her back and then kissed my way around her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue. She placed both her hands on my head as I sucked her left breast into my mouth. "Oh god, Duncan. Yes. Ohhhhh, I need this." I kneeled up over her, continuing to suck on her breasts, sliding my right hand down along the side of her body, stopping on her hip. She began to spread her legs as I repositioned myself between them, continuing to kiss, nibble, and lick her tits. Kissing my way down her stomach, Lynn spread her legs wider. I kissed the inside of her right thigh, kissing my way back up towards her fragrant pussy. Stopping before I reached my goal, I switched thighs and kissed my way up her left thigh. Lynn reached down and started rubbing her pussy with both hands, one playing with her clit while she started to finger herself. I leaned in and removed her two fingers, sucking them into my mouth. God, what a sweet tasting pussy. Though I only had her once, Lynn's taste would linger with me over the next decades. I immediately dove in and started to lick the outside of her pussy lips, savoring the sweet nectar flowing. Lynn continued to play with her clit as I buried my tongue deeper inside her. Shifting my arm underneath, I slowly inserted two fingers into her dripping wet pussy. She bucked against my hand as I lapped up her juices. After just a few minutes of savoring her sweetness, Lynn's legs began to tighten. She locked her legs around my back, pushing my face deep into her pussy. I could barely breath as Lynn began humping my face. She pressed me so tightly into her beautiful body, I couldn't move, my fingers just buried inside her. Lynn moaned loudly as she came, finally releasing me from the headlock, giving me some air to breath. After her orgasm she laid still, her muscles totally relaxed. I worked my way out from between her legs and slid up her body, lightly resting on top of her. She wrapped her arms around me, kissing my cheek and nibbling my ear. "Ohhh, that was so wonderful. Just what I needed with all the stresses of moving. You were wonderful." "We aren't finished yet, are we?" I asked, lifting my head up with a sly smile. "I hope not! And by the feel of you, I think it is only going to get better." With that, she pulled me back down and we kissed again, Lynn licking her own juices from my lips and chin. Our tongues entwined in a hot and passionate dance. I lifted my hips up, reaching down to hold my cock as I guided it into her pussy. I slowly entered her, the heat radiating out, pulling my cock deeper and deeper into her. Once buried all the way inside I held still, keeping my cock buried deep in her pussy. Slowly I started to slide out until the tip nearly popped free. "Ohhhhh, god yes." Beyong that, Lynn didn't say another thing, she just moaned and sighed and panted. For Married Eyes Only Ch. 02 I didn't say a word, focusing my efforts on painfully sliding my cock slowly in and out. Lynn got into the rhythm, matching my strokes with a cautious humping of her hips. After a few minutes our pace picked up, but still our rhythm was unhurried, it was sheer pleasure enjoying the full feel of my cock sliding in and out of her hot pussy. "Oh Lynn, you are so beautiful. So very hot." I kept telling her as my cock slid in and out of her pussy. Her moans got louder as she pulled my head down, burying her face into my neck, as she reached her second climax within about fifteen minutes. Soon I was cumming with full force. Moans. Sighs. Heavy breathing. Our chests pounding. Juices flowing. Two naked bodies, sweaty, entangled. I managed to roll off to the side, my right arm lying across Lynn's breasts. She cuddled up to me as I shifted my left arm under her head. She rolled over, her back to me and we lay, the only movement was our chests as we recovered our breathing. No sounds, just perfect bliss. We both most have fallen asleep, awaking after about 30 minutes. Lynn rolled over to face me and gently kissed me on the lips. "Thank you. That was a perfect afternoon and diversion." "The pleasure was mine," I replied with a big smile of contentment. "But I'm curious, if I can pry a little." "What?" "Did you come over here with the thought that we would end up like this?" "What? What gave you that idea? You think I planned this?" "No, not planned. But I sensed earlier you were quite nervous when you first came over. I first assumed it was because of the near accident we had. But as you lingered on, I began to wonder if your intentions were more than just apologizing." Lynn laughed quietly, "You think too much. What happened, happened. It isn't like you needed a lot of swaying to get me naked and onto your bed!" She did have a cute laugh and a way of making this all easy. It was easy. Too easy. *** After my afternoon with Lynn, I never did make it to see Won again. Susan and I met regularly for an evening of hard fucking. She liked it fast and hard and noisy. I know a few times she went home to her husband with a creampie, never knowing if it was something he was into or if he ever had an inkling. At the office, Susan was pure professionalism. We became office friends, occasionally sitting and having our lunch together or going out for happy hour with a few other colleagues. No one would have guessed we were fucking once or twice a week. No one would have guessed Susan was so wild sexually, as she came off a bit shy to most. Never while out with others did she flirt or give any intention of sexual connection between us, even after a few beers. She was in total control. But as soon as we walked into my apartment, it was another story. Rarely did we make it to the bedroom, once we didn't even make it beyond the entrance door. It was a Wednesday night and for some reason some colleagues were going for happy hour at a pub near the office. It was a hot and sultry July evening. The beer and cold snacks were a welcome relief and I think Susan had a few too many. It was quite out of her character to see her a little drunk, but even then, she was in total control, never giving on to our illicit relationship. I volunteered to the others that I would see Susan home, seeing as she was a little tipsy. Rather than deal with a bus, as was my normal commute, I splurged and we took a taxi to my apartment. As soon as the taxi turned the corner, Susan's hand was in my crotch and she was licking my ear. Susan whispered, "Are you going to fuck me tonight, lover boy? Are you going to fuck your married lover?" Whether it was her hand rubbing my crotch or her words, my dick was twitching. It was only a few days before, on Saturday afternoon, when Susan last stopped by for a quick fuck on her way to do some shopping. The short taxi ride was excruciating, as all I wanted to do was bury my face in her tits and slide my fingers up her skirt. I controlled myself though, allowing her to tease me and rub me the whole way; she was getting more and more frustrated that I was not reciprocating her teasing. I'm sure the taxi driver enjoyed the show. Once again, Susan was all professional when we pulled up outside my apartment building. The only indication of what was going on was the huge tent in my pants! We walked into the building and into my apartment like two friends, or colleagues. I let her in then turned to close the door behind us. I could barely turn around when Susan latched herself to me, planting a hard kiss on my lips. She pushed her body against mine as I fell back into the door, she was grinding her hips against my hard on. I pushed her against the hallway wall and forcefully reached my hand under her skirt and onto her panty-clad pussy. As usual, she was dripping wet. I rubbed my hand against her hard as we continued to kiss roughly. I would have been rougher and ripped her blouse, but thought the better of it. She quickly started unbuttoning, as I buried my face into her tits, pulling them out from underneath her bra. While I stopped myself from ripping her blouse, I figured the panties were more disposable. I grabbed them and yanked them, tearing them off of her. Pushing her against the wall with my body, kissing her deeply, I quickly undid my belt, unzipped my pants and pulled them and my boxers down to the floor. I pushed myself back into her, my cock easily sliding into her hot and wet pussy. I pumped her hard and fast, her own body barely able to move as I pinned her to the wall. Within a few minutes I knew she was cumming. As she began to moan and scream, I kissed her deeply again to muffle the sounds. Susan's body began to shake, her arms wrapped tightly around my head. I continued to pump furiously until I exploded myself a few moments later. After climaxing, we both just stood there, our bodies entangled, our clothes a mess, trying to catch our breaths. "Fuck, that was amazing. How was I so lucky to find you?" "Just keep it up lover-boy. Now that is what I call Happy Hour." "I think Happy 10-minutes is more appropriate!" At which we both laughed. "Fuck. Now I have to go home and cook dinner. I think I may have to shower first." Susan straightened herself up, repositioning her bra and tucking her blouse back into her skirt. I suggested she go use the bathroom to clean up, but she didn't. She definitely had that 'just fucked' look and I was beginning to wonder if her little excursions were tolerated by her husband who possibly got off on her coming home after fucking another guy. Whether he ever enjoyed the creampies or not, I don't know. I never brought the topic up with her. *** Susan was out of this world. Fucking her once or twice a week was more than fulfilling, though I did begin to desire for something more than the quick and rough sex she so demanded. I remembered my afternoon with Lynn and the slow, concentrated, and cuddly sex we enjoyed. I began to wonder what other married women desired. Was it like Susan, a quick fuck with no emotion, or touchy-feely love making like Lynn? While Susan kept me satisfied, the idea of seducing other married women ignited me. And DC was the place to be. Fortunately, my job with an international organization placed me in a perfect position to meet many women from around the world at dinner parties, conferences, and various other social events. Thus I journeyed down the road of sex with married women. For Married Eyes Only Ch. 03 When I first started down the road of enjoying other men's wives, I assumed I was being used, willingly of course, for their fulfillment, be it sexual or, as I would discover, political. Reflecting back upon the past two decades I realize it was I who was using them. Many of the women I encountered over the years were seeking something, some unfulfilled desires, a fantasy, or something more calculated like political access or favors they assumed I could provide in exchange for their openness. What was I getting? Why was I so willing to sleep with married women, particularly after I married? A few moments of satisfaction? Fulfillment of a fantasy? The addiction was something more than the sex. Having sex with single women or prostitutes would also have provided satisfaction and the realization of particular fantasies. But I didn't seek them out. Why married women? I never bothered asking these questions until now. For twenty years I slept-walked my way through a series of adulterous affairs. In fact, sleepwalking seems to be apropos; it was active, but not emotionally connected, not really conscious of what I was doing. Yes, there were many women who sought out escape from meaningless marriages, but few wanted complications. In most cases, there was no tomorrow. It was about fulfilling something in the present. With some women I did have on going affairs, but the affairs were just that, affairs. They ended, we moved on; no emotional complications (at least as long as their husbands didn't find out, which wasn't always the case). While some women sought out a sympathetic ear, and body, which I easily provided, none of them sought love. That's what turned me on. There were no games being played. Just two people using each other. * * * Anybody with any sense of the U.S. political system knows that DC is a city of whores. What was a delight to discover is that the whores were not just in the capitol building or the White House, but in the many foreign consulates as well. Once one had an entry into the social circuit of endless dinner parties catering to the stream of visiting dignitaries from around the world, one had limitless access to an international smorgasbord of sexual delights. One needed more than just access though; one needed status. In Washington, so I discovered, one just didn't sleep with someone because they were attractive or available; each encounter was a calculated undertaking. In DC, I was a nobody, or so I assumed; just one of many analysts writing a stream of reports and policy position papers that were circulated and rarely read. The organization I worked for focused on international issues, publishing regular reports on political and human rights developments in different countries. Thus, while I was a nobody, the organization I worked for was an important player defining the reputation of different countries to U.S. foreign policy makers. When I first started to meet married women from the expatriate community, I was utterly ignorant of the social capital that I carried. My night with a female staff member of the embassy of an Asian country, I assumed, was initiated by our mutual sexual desires. It was only afterwards that I learned otherwise. It was not unusual for various staff members of our organization to receive invitations to embassy dinner parties. At one such party, I was standing at the buffet table deciding which of the many exotic looking appetizers I should sample when an extremely attractive Asian woman approached me and suggested I try a particular dish. "Do I dare ask what it is?" "What, don't trust me?" she replied. That left me with little option but to sample it. It was a meat-filled dumpling, spicy and the meat was quite tender, shredded beef, I assumed. "Very nice." "Have you ever tried dog meat?" She asked, smiling innocently. I just laughed, knowing she was playing with me. "Not yet. At least, I assume." "No, probably not. Just wanted to test you. It's actually rat meet. There are a lot of those in this city." I nearly chocked on the dumpling laughing at her political commentary. "Yeah, and probably quite a few of them should be hog-tied and roasted. Though I doubt they would taste this good. Would require a lot of spicing." Now she was laughing. "No comment. Don't want to start a diplomatic row between our countries. As for the dumpling it's beef, marinated for about a week. I expected her to speak with a thick accent, but her pronunciation was perfect, she didn't even get her "r"s and "l"s confused. "Did I pass the test?" "Oh, still more testing to take place!" "More? It's going to be a long night." "Let's hope so." She said, giving me a very sly smile then walking off. Did she just suggest what I think she suggested? I turned to watch her walk away, and oh what a delight the view offered. She was tall and very slender, wearing a long black, tight fighting dress with an equally tight long-sleeved blouse, buttoned to her neck. She had very long, straight, shiny black hair, reaching down to her hips. Her ass looked perfect; so round, so tight. "Wow! Who has that?" One of my colleagues came up to me, drawing me out of my voyeuristic stupor. "I wish I knew. She didn't even give me an opportunity to introduce myself." "Guess that gives me the right to move in," he declared, flashing a big shit-eating grin. "Good luck," I offered as he slipped away, chasing her down. Within a few minutes I noticed him chatting with another group of people. Obviously she shut him down quickly. I selected a few samples from the buffet and mingled with the crowd, eventually finding myself stuck chatting with an Asian man working on his Ph.D. in international finance while apparently his wife was working for the embassy. Bored out of my wits, but feeling somewhat trapped at that point I kept glancing around for my nameless lady friend; she appeared and disappeared working the crowd. * * * After about fifteen minutes, she stealthily slipped up next to the man who was rambling on and on about capital flows and something or other, in heavily accented English, and linked arms with him. He then introduced Xian, his wife. I smiled at finally making her acquaintance; shaking hands I introduced myself. As I started to mention the organization I worked for, she interrupted me, filling in the details, thus indicating she knew exactly who I was. At the time the question of how didn't linger long as I admired her soft smile and luscious curves. She laughingly apologized for her husband boring me with the details of his dissertation research. "No, no, not at all. I learned a lot. It is amazing how intertwined international relations are and the depth of global penetration." She caught herself from laughing out loud at my words, obviously picking up on the innuendo. Her husband seemed clueless and started once again talking about capital flows. Xian then started talking to him in their language, apologizing to me for being so rude. He then mentioned he had to leave, and bowed on his exit. Once he departed, Xian stepped to my side, linking arms with me and escorted me over to the bar area. She insisted I try some native alcohol from her country, but having tried it before, I knew better. The effect was like doing double shots of tequila. I settled on another glass of red wine. We wandered into one of the inner sitting rooms of the apartment the party was being hosted in and settled onto a couch. We began discussing my organization and its work and she offered some opinions about recent developments in her country. At the time I thought nothing of it, just usual professional dinner party conversation. What I did keep reflecting on however was how she kept touching my arm, placing her hand lightly on my thigh, and pressing her knee against mine as we sat engrossed in our conversation. Most of the touching seemed innocent enough, but after our first meeting and the "test" over the buffet table and the sexual innuendo I slipped into our earlier conversation, I wondered how innocent any of it was. Once when she turned to face me more directly to make a point, she brushed her breasts against my arm. I held my arm very still as she leaned slightly further in. She held her position, either not aware or all too conscious of what she was doing. I was certainly conscious and could feel a little twitching taking place in my crotch as my cock reacted to the soft feel of her breasts on my arm. Oh so slightly I slid my arm down; in effect, rubbing the nipple of her right breast. I held my arm still for a moment then slid it back up, just a smidgen. She continued talking, seemingly unaware. I tried the move again; as I slid my arm up I noticed just a slight pause in her speech, as she seemed to take a deeper breath. Xian placed her left hand on my thigh again and held it a few inches above my knee. Having a mind of its own, my cock twitched, awakening from its slumber. I'm not sure if she felt it or not, she certainly didn't let on anything unusual was happening. I leaned further back into the sofa to see if she would follow. My arm was no longer pressed against her breast, but I left it in the same position, inviting her to also lean back and resume the teasing. She did. I smiled as she continued without pause the conversation, or what was turning out to be more of a monologue. I then commenced again sliding my arm down slightly, holding it for a moment, then back up, teasing her nipple. Under her tight blouse and soft bra I did notice Xian's nipples hardening. Xian's own fingers softly clawed into my thigh once or twice, and then she ran her hand further up my leg, ever so slightly. Xian then broke the stream of the conversation, "It is such a pleasure talking with you, it feels good." "Yes, it does feel good, doesn't it," I replied, looking deep into her dark and luscious eyes, while simultaneously rubbing my arm against her nipple again. Xian slightly gasped and I then knew she was well aware of our subtle flirtations. Still, she kept her breasts pressed against my arm, her hand on my thigh. "I'm curious, earlier you mentioned more tests. What is the next one?" I asked her. "Oh, you've already passed." I laughed. "I think I like these tests." "It does appear that way." "Though I have the distinct impression you enjoy administering the tests as much as I enjoy taking them. Yes?" She just smiled, her eyes brightened, her hand tightened its grip on my thigh. "Are there more?" I queried. "You are persistent." "I know what I like." She sat quietly for a moment, contemplating her next move, or, as I later learned, giving me the impression she was contemplating her next move. I was a willing victim in a net she spun around me. It was a game of Go, and I was surrounded; only I was still foolish enough to think I was the master of the game. "In 20 minutes come down to the fourth floor, apartment 402." * * * With that she briskly got up and walked into the main room, leaving me wondering what was going on. Needless to say, I didn't wonder long; this was too easy. I got up and walked back into the room, noticing that many of the guests already left. There were probably still about 15 people milling about, I didn't notice any of my colleagues there, nor did I see Xian anywhere. The twenty minutes were approaching and I decided to make my exit. I approached the ambassador and thanked him for a wonderful party and bowed my way out to the remaining members of the embassy staff. Fortunately, I was the only one leaving at that moment and took the elevator down to the fourth floor. 402 was around the corner and the door was ajar. I hesitated, as a cautious thought came flashing across my mind, was this some sort of set-up? Then I heard Xian. "Come in. You are right on time. I heard the elevator bell." I pushed the door open, stepping into a smallish apartment. It was decorated in a very staid fashion, I guessed it was a standard service apartment kept for embassy visitors. Xian was standing to the side of the sitting room; she had changed. She wore a long gown-like spaghetti-strapped black negligee that seemed to form fit her curvaceous body. Into the spider's web I gladly marched! "Come sit. Something more to drink." "You are gorgeous. I just like the idea of drinking in your beauty." She approached me; standing in front of me she removed my blazer, which she then hung in the closet. I stood still, just watching her exquisite body move in such perfect harmony. She returned, reaching out to undo my tie and unbutton the top two buttons of my dress shirt. A guy could get spoiled living like this. I wondered if she treated her husband the same way every night. "Here, sit. Relax." She kneeled in front of me and removed my shoes and socks. "Really, this isn't necessary." "You don't like this?" She asked as she began rubbing her hands up my legs. She kneeled up on her knees leaning into me, her breasts rubbing against my thighs. She continued to run her hands over my knees up my thighs, as she pressed closer. I spread my knees apart as she leaned over and gently kissed my lips. Xian placed her hands on my arms, locking them onto the armrest. She was in control. She gently flicked her tongue across my upper lip. As I opened my mouth and tried to kiss her back she pulled away, teasing me. Slowly Xian stood up, keeping her hands on my arms, leaning over me. I had a clear view down the front of her negligee to her dangling breasts, so soft and inviting. She let go of my arms, hiked up her long negligee to above her knees and knelt on the chair, over my lap. She ran both her hands through my hair, pulling my face into her bosom. Placing my hands on her hips, I slowly slid them over her tight round ass, squeezing her cheeks. She pulled back slightly and leaned down and kissed me again. This time it was hot and passionate, our mouths meshed into one another, our tongues dancing. I slid both my hands down to her knees where her negligee was gathered and then slid them back up along her smooth legs, pushing the negligee up till I had unobstructed access to her naked ass. As I grabbed her ass cheeks tightly and spread them I could feel Xian moan into my mouth. Xian quickly unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it back. She then broke our kiss, leaning back on my lap, my hands still holding on to her ass. She reached down and pulled her negligee up over her head, tossing it on the nearby couch. Xian displayed her glorious body; now naked she was a sight to behold. Her long black hair draped down, some over the front of her shoulders slightly veiling her magnificent breasts, so round and soft, her dark brown nipples hard. Oh, and even more magnificent was her shaved pussy, glistening with a slight wetness from our teasing foreplay. Xian lifted herself off the chair and stood over me. She kissed my chest, nibbling on my nipples as she pulled my shirt off. Xian slid the shirt from my shoulders and down my arms, then pushed me back before my arms were free of the sleeves, trapping them. With one hand holding me back, she ran her other hand over my chest, playing with my nipples, giving them a hard pinch. The entire time she stared into my eyes; she was on fire. Xian slid a hand down over my stomach to my slacks, gently rubbing my hard cock. I lifted my hips, wanting to feel the pleasure of her hand, but she pulled it back as I did. She reached for my belt with both hands, undoing it then unbuttoning my slacks and sliding the zipper down. Xian refocused her eyes on mine, then leaned in for another spark filled kiss. She knelt in front of me and began to tug on my pants. I lifted my hips as she pulled my slacks and boxers off, leaving my hands trapped in the sleeves of my shirt pulled behind me. I sat back down into the chair, my cock standing like a rock statue, except that it was twitching, begging to be touched. Her breasts pressed against my knees, Xian ran her hands seductively along my thighs. She teasingly leaned over my cock like she was going to kiss it, then looked up into my eyes, and pulled away. All I could do was bite my lower lip, wondering when all this teasing was going to come to an end. How her husband survived being with such a seductive tigress, I had no idea. After a few minutes of teasing me this way, she ran a finger over my balls, tracing upwards along my cock with the tip of her sharp fingernail. Looking into my eyes again, Xian licked her lips then slowly bent her head over my cock, gently kissing the tip. Her hands were on my thighs keeping me from lifting up and shoving my cock into her mouth. I spread my knees apart as far as I could in the chair as she nibbled her way down my cock. She flicked her tongue over my balls, then ran it back up to the head. She kissed the tip again then parting her lips she slid her head down, swallowing my entire cock in one swift move. She bobbed slowly up and down on my cock in a very rhythmic fashion, as she continued to fondle my balls. I could do little but enjoy the hot wet sensation of my cock in her mouth, her tongue twirling around the tip each time she moved up. How I longed to run my fingers through her delicate hair, but they remained trapped behind me. She sucked me for several minutes then stopped, my cock twitching in the air, begging for her mouth. She blew on my cock and stared into my eyes, letting it cool down. After a minute, she would start sucking me again. She repeated this routine several times, each time I felt I was closer and closer to exploding. I rocked my hips to her rhythmic sucking and eventually felt my balls contract and about to spurt loads of cum into Xian's mouth. She sensed my imminent climax and quickly released my cock from her mouth and with her index finger and thumb formed a ring around the base of my cock, just above the balls, and squeezed. "Holy fucking shit. Oh god. I need to cum. Ohhhhhhhh, you're evil." Xian just smiled, watching a few drops of precum ooze out of the tip of my cock. Though my climax was suppressed I felt the build up of tension and a desperate need to shoot loads of cum. Still holding the base of my cock Xian got up off her knees and carefully knelt on the chair again, this time guiding my aching cock into her very tight pussy. She squatted just over the tip of my cock and rubbed the head along her outer pussy lips. I was dying! All I could do was close my eyes and let her work her evil magic. Slowly she guided the head of my cock to just inside her pussy lips, I could sense the heat radiating out. Very cautiously she held my cock still and lowered her body in very calculated moves; at first just taking an inch then sliding back off my cock. Each time she slid down, I penetrated a little deeper. Xian had the most amazingly tight pussy; it reminded me of fucking my virgin girlfriend when I was a teenager. Her juices allowed my cock to slid in without any friction, but the sensation of the tight fit was more than I could handle. By the time Xian finally had my cock buried fully into her pussy, I was ready to explode. I couldn't last any longer. She teased me mercilessly all night, I couldn't hold back. Locking eyes, she smiled, knowingly, like it was her intention all along. One, two, three, quick thrusts up and down my cock and I was cumming, and cumming, and cumming. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I felt like I could barely breath. All my bodily sensations were focused on my cock and what felt like streams of cum shooting out of it. My cock kept twitching as Xian sat still. She then commenced to milk my cock by tightening her pussy muscles. It was a first for me, feeling her pussy contract around my cock then loosen, then contract. I was beside myself with her over-stimulation. I just sat there, speechless, trying to catch my breath. With my cock still inside her she leaned forward kissing my forehead and cuddling my head into her bosom. She held me there for a moment before lifting herself off of me. For Married Eyes Only Ch. 03 Xian stood up and went behind the chair. When I leaned forward she pulled up my shirt, placing it back over my shoulders, freeing my arms for the first time that night. She pulled me back in the chair, gently rubbing my head as it rested against her soft breasts. She rubbed my temples, gently massaging my ear lobes, then neck and shoulders. Feeling her breasts and her gentle touch, my cock was beginning to harden again. "Are you relaxed?" Xian asked. "So relaxed I can't even speak." "Perfect. It was a beautiful night. I must return home now, you can refresh yourself in the washroom there then let yourself out." "No more tests?" I wondered. I knew she hadn't had her own climax and I still longed to suck on her big round tits. "Thank you," was all I got as she went down the hallway to the bedroom. I could hear the door lock behind her. I sat there dazed, a little confused, and totally satiated. After a few minutes of just sitting I got up and went to the washroom, splashing cool water on my face and washing my cock of our combined juices with a warm washcloth. I walked back to the living room and dressed, hearing the shower run in the locked bedroom. I contemplated just sitting there waiting for her to step out, but thought it best to make my move. I knew this was her game, whatever it was; I followed her rules. * * * It wasn't till the next day that I realized I didn't know her full name and had no phone number to contact her. I was half tempted to call her embassy on the following Monday and ask for "Xian", but decided to send a spy instead. A friend working on the Hill for a congressman had lots of contacts with different embassies and I asked him to find out what he could about Xian. A few days later he called; he didn't add much to what little I knew: she was the new Assistant Political Officer, her husband was doing a Ph.D., and she was gorgeous. I never tried to contact her; despite that for weeks my imagination was consumed with her beauty and the longing for the sensation of my cock inside her tight pussy. She never called either, at least not to try and see me again. A few months after my encounter with Xian the organization I worked for released a report on her country. It wasn't particularly flattering, taking them to task for a variety of undemocratic and abusive practices. It was only then that I received a call from Xian. She was irate. "How dare you!" she yelled at me over the phone. "What? Dare? What are you tal..." "You wrote such a negative report. You didn't even listen to what I had to tell you. You just used me. You bastard. You were too fucking busy staring at my breasts to even listen to me. I can't believe you used me like that." "What? I used you? What are you..." "Bastard, don't even think of ever seeing me again. I've never been so humiliated, so utterly used. You fucking American!" With that, she slammed down the phone. I held the phone in my hand wondering what had just happen. I was totally confused. Trying to recall our night and meeting, it became apparent that it was she who used me. She knew exactly who I was when she finally introduced herself. She knew exactly where the night was heading and dangled me along. Not that I complained, but I didn't realize it was going to come back and bite me in the ass. It wasn't till a few weeks later when I met Soraya that I figured out the game. In this circle I had social capital because of the organization I worked for. It wasn't me; it was the reports we wrote that interested others. Soraya taught me how to use that to my advantage. People wanted two things: to know what was being written about their country before it was published, or to influence what was in the reports. While I don't think I ever changed a report based on a liaison I had, there is no doubt I let many believe that I might. Rather than be used like Xian did to me, I used others, I played their game, willingly. It did lead to a few heated phone calls, but also some incredible sexual encounters. Soraya, the Saudi princess, was in a league of her own. For Married Eyes Only Ch. 04 Soraya, a Saudi princess (so she said) and chief Public Relations officer for a major organization funded by the Saudi government, expedited my journey into the world of "loving wives." She taught me how to use my position to seduce women and play the DC "insiders game," as she so appropriately called it, on my terms rather than be at the bequest of others. She also enlightened me to the amazing wonders of Arab women. Over the five years I knew Soraya she introduced me to a diversity of Arab women from different parts of the Arab world, many of them Saudis and women from the other Gulf states, Egyptians, Moroccans, Lebanese, Iraqis, and Syrians (some of the most beautiful). Many of them were single, quite a few of them, like her, were married. I never quite knew what she gained from setting the stage for the affairs I had, but I'm sure it wasn't just out of good will. I know she was using me, but I had nothing to lose; in many ways I became her personal gigolo that she leant out to friends. In return Soraya offered me a lot for my professional development. She arranged meetings with ambassadors, political dissidents (for all the different Arab countries except Saudi Arabia!), journalists, and many others I would never have had access to. With such interviews I was able to develop a Middle East expertise for my organization that didn't exist earlier. More thrilling was all the women she also gave me access to. I first met Soraya at a seminar focusing on migration and other issues in the Gulf Arab states. I was far from an expert on the Arab world, but in those days, there were few around, thus my director suggested I attend. At the time I didn't welcome the prospect of the additional work; only in hindsight was I glad to discover a whole new world waiting to be conquered. Soraya was the coordinator of the conference. I met her first when I went to register. She was striking: early 40s, rich green eyes, perfectly coiffed hair (not something I find particularly attractive, but it made her stand out), and curves like you wouldn't believe. She was definitely well endowed, though showed only a hint of her cleavage. Later I would discover her breasts to be 38DD. Her makeup was perfect, her perfume undoubtedly expensive, her clothes tailored for her body, and enough gold and diamonds to open her own jewelry store. Her brown-hued olive skin highlighted her rich green eyes, framed by brunette hair. Counter to my naïve, media-generated expectations, Soraya was anything but a submissive, veiled Arab woman. Soraya was in charge; she commanded everything she saw. She was a director, a leader; nothing was left to chance. She had an army of underlings, male and female, tripping over her heals running around fulfilling her every command. She welcomed every guest individually, playing her role as hostess perfectly. She subtly flirted with the men and connected and conspired with each and every woman. Wherever she went, eyes followed. Soraya stood out; she was there to be noticed and she thrived on it. I was one of the most junior people at the seminar, except for a group of Arab students; the majority of participants were senior diplomats both Arabs and Americans. Soraya seemed to know them all personally. She welcomed me warmly, guiding me into the conference room and introduced me to a group of Arab men, one of them a distinguished scholar whose work I was well familiar with. The seminar, like most, was full of vague policy analyses and political rhetoric, with little on-the-ground specificities. It was, however, a place to see and be seen. And I did enjoy the views. There was a group of young Arab women who were all graduate students at Georgetown, I would learn. Most of them wore the ubiquitous black robe (the abaya) with veils wrapped around the top of their heads, covering their hair, but not their faces. In the question and answer period, many of them stood up and asked very directed questions; not shy at all from the attention they drew upon themselves. During one of the coffee breaks, two of them approached me and we started chatting. One was a bit fat, but with a very attractive, round face; the other, on the thick side, with a long face and sharp cheekbones. Both wore a ton of make-up. They were curious to learn more about my organization and questioned if any internship opportunities existed. I gave them my card and told them to call me and I would introduce them to our personnel director. They were both from Qatar and I asked about their friends. Two were from the United Arab Emirates, one from Kuwait, and the other three were Saudi. Most of them were quite good looking, at least from what I could tell. They introduced them to me and having recently completed my own graduate studies, we chatted about the trials of graduate school, living as a foreigner here, what they liked about DC, etc. I was finally able to move the conversation over to their lives as Arab women, but soon the seminar started again and my questions had to wait. Regretfully, during the rest of the proceedings I did not get the opportunity of chatting with any of them again except in parting. I gave each of them my card with no expectations or hidden intentions, but I did hear from a few of them afterwards, which turned out to be quite the delight. Soraya overheard my parting invitation to the girls for coffee and to chat further and after they departed approached me and kidded me about being attracted to Arab women. "Beautiful women are beautiful women, wherever they are from," I offered. "Yes, but we Arab women do have a seductive charm, yes?" "So I'm discovering." "But do remember, girls are girls and still bound to their families. They know how to giggle, but not how to gratify." I chuckled, "perhaps, but even then, we all start somewhere, girls becoming women is a process, yes?" "Oh you do like keep all your options open don't you? But tell me, more seriously, your thoughts on the seminar. I know your organization does not have a Middle East expert on staff and I would like to discuss some of your concerns about the region. I do hope we can meet sometime soon." "Absolutely. Shall I call later this week and make an appointment?" "How about the Wednesday after next? Will you be free?" "Wednesday it is. Should I stop by and we can meet in your office?" "Perfect. See you then. In the meantime, do be careful, there are lots of eyes around." I wasn't quite sure the implication of her last comment, but assumed it had to do with the Arab girls and them being watched. As the case would be, they were well aware of the eyes following them, and knew exactly how to behave, in public. In private, that was a whole other matter. * * * Within two days after the seminar one of the Emirati girls, Soha, called. She wanted to meet at a cafe in Georgetown Friday evening after work. Could I make it? Of course! Soha was very striking looking with a thin long face and piercing eyes, a small mouth, and wisps of blondish hair under her veil. She was petite, maybe an inch or two over five feet tall and I doubt much more than a hundred pounds. She wore the abaya, a black robe, so I had no idea the nature of her curves underneath, but her face was one you could get lost just staring at. Soha was very impassioned about her studies and returning to the UAE to work for the government. She was from Dubai, which at that time was still a little unknown place, with a big vision. She was 23 years old, about 10 years my junior, and talked enthusiastically about the transformations taking place there and the hope she had for the city. She wanted very much to gain some experience working with a non-governmental organization and was willing to volunteer at our office. In the end, just in parting as she was getting in to a taxi to head back home she mentioned she and some of her friends were having a party the next night and that I should stop by. She handed me a slip of paper and off she went. This was definitely an intriguing invitation; it was hard to pass up a bunch of wealthy, beautiful, and young Arab girls. I had absolutely no idea what to expect, and to say the least the party far surpassed anything I could have imagined. The apartment was that of Soha and Fatima's in a very upscale street of Georgetown, which was upscale to begin with. It was a two-story flat with lots of modernist glass and metal furniture and oil paintings on the walls. It was not like the apartment of any grad students I ever knew. A woman I did not recognize greeted me and invited me in. She had shoulder-length wavy black hair and wore a tight spaghetti-strap chemise and tight jeans. She was gorgeous. "You don't recognize me do you?" I looked for a moment and then realized in embarrassment that it was Fatima, the other Emirati girl. "Of course, I'm sorry." "The veil and abaya can be deceptive," she informed me. "Indeed," I said raising my eyebrows. She chuckled and invited me in. It wasn't a large crowd, maybe about 15 to 20 people in all. I recognized a few of the girls from the seminar and there were several other Arab girls. Most of the men were Arabs too; I did notice later one young white couple. Several of the men were also older, in their 30s, one looked like he was in his 40s. This was the type of party I hadn't been to since my college days: music blaring, young couples dancing, a few people snorting coke, and a complete self-help bar. I soaked up the scene: wow! was all I could think. Most of these girls were solid 10s with perfect bodies and a lot of skin showing: tank tops, tube tops, cleavage everywhere you looked, tight everything. As I was taking it all in, Soha came up and greeted me with a kiss on each of my cheeks. Now that I could see her body, she was definitely petite, except in one area, she had the most perfect round ass. She wore a tight fitting designer t-shirt that gave definition to her small breasts, probably a B-cup. Her dirty-blond hair fell past her shoulders. She offered me a drink, I settled on a beer, not being much of a hard liquor drinker, while she mixed herself a vodka and orange juice. Soha linked arms and escorted me over to a small group of two other couples chatting and introduced me. We settled onto the couch, Soha at my side. She often kept her arm interlocked in mine, making it clear to others that I was hers. As I barely knew her except for an hour or two conversation over a cup of coffee, I thought it a bit forward, but I certainly wasn't complaining. Over the night all the usual questions popped into my mind for me to ponder, plus a few extras given Soha being Emirati. What were her intentions? Where would we be tomorrow? How often will I have to call her to keep her happy? Could I even afford going out with her? Did I want to date? It was the first time in a while I mulled over such questions. In one of my first realizations, it was then that I recognized what attracted me so much to having affairs with married women – there were no such questions! With married women it was about the moment, the passion, not tomorrow. Eventually, after a few beers, my mind focused more on the present and this gorgeous woman who latched on to me. I had no idea where it was heading, nor even what my own intentions were, but it was a path worth exploring. Soon the other couples got up to dance and Soha and I settled back onto the couch. It was only then that I really started to look around again at the crowd. Most of them were paired up, and two couples were making out on another couch on the other side of the room. One girl was sitting on a guy's lap, his hands all over her ass, as they kissed and she gyrated her body over his. "Shocked?" Soha asked, pulling me out of my voyeuristic moment "Not quite like a party I've been to in a long time." "We're young!" She said laughing. "Besides, it is one of our few opportunities to be ourselves. We have our traditions and they're important to us, but we also like to have a good time." "Nothing wrong with that." "Good, then come dance with me." Soha didn't give me the opportunity of objecting and just grabbed my hand and drew me out into the dance area. Needless to say, I felt quite uncomfortable as dancing isn't my forte and here I was with a girl I barely knew, and an Arab one at that. I still had images of stoning and honor killings whirling around my head! Stupid, yes, but I was wandering into unfamiliar territory; I didn't know any of the people at the party, I barely even knew Soha. She obviously was not concerned. She was even more gorgeous with the slight glow of sweat from the dancing, and though petite, she had all the right moves. She pulled in close to me, swirling her hips against me, then danced back, smiling. It was hard not to respond. I eventually threw caution to the wind and placed my hand just above her hip. She placed her hand on top of mine and stared into my eyes. I gave her a wink and she broke out into a big smile. She then danced up into me, her body swaying against mine. She stretched up to whisper in my ear, "enjoying yourself?" I leaned in as to whisper and gently kissed her ear. She just pulled her body more tightly into mine and laid her head against my chest as I wrapped both my arms around her. We swayed together for a while to the beat of the music giving me an opportunity to survey the scene around me. More couples were making out on the couches and dance floor. A few guys were sitting back snorting coke watching the whole scene. One of them, when they saw me looking just gave me a thumbs up. By this time I had both my hands on Soha's ass, gently massaging her soft cheeks. It was a bit awkward, as my cock was quite hard from feeling her body rub against mine. There was no hiding it. But she wasn't the least bit shy. In fact, she kept gyrating her hips against me, making me even harder. My mind eventually got the better of me, wondering where this was all leading. Was she expecting me to date her? What did she want? What if I dumped her afterwards? I still had images of her white-robed brothers knocking on my door. Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Soha whispered again into my ear, "I hope you don't find me too forward. I like to have a good time and I hope we can enjoy some time together. You're different from other guys, I sensed that, and you appreciate where I come from." She was saying all of this while still swaying her body against mine, keeping my cock hard, pressed against her belly. I don't know what made me different, but I sure wasn't going to argue with her. I didn't know where this was leading, but I had a clear sense that it would be a wild adventure. Soha stopped dancing and linked arms again. It was a bit embarrassing as I had a noticeable hard on, though I don't think anyone else in the room cared, most occupied in dealing with their own hard ons. "I haven't been a good hostess at all," Soha started. I looked at her a little confused. She's been perfect! "I forgot to give you a tour of the apartment." As she said this she gave me a wink. We made our way over to the staircase and walked up. It was now quiet and nobody else seemed to be around. "That's Fatima's room; let's see what she's doing," she said mischievously. With that she opened the door and there was Fatima naked, her big tits bouncing up and down as she was riding some guy stretched out beneath her. Fatima turned and looked at us, yelling something in Arabic, her tone seemed more playful than angry though. "Look she has nice breasts, yes?" Soha asked. "Get out," Fatima yelled in English. "You are such a voyeur. You like the show?" She asked, looking at me. I have no idea what the guy under her was thinking, but he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Perhaps we should let them be," Soha suggested as she closed the door. "That's my roommate." Without saying anything I leaned over and kissed Soha. She immediately opened her tiny mouth and our tongues darted to one another, like lovers meeting after a long separation. Breaking the kiss, Soha asked, "Got turned on seeing her big breasts?" "I am turned on by feeling your body next to mine," I replied. "You Americans know all the right things to say!" I kissed her hard and grabbed her ass, lifting her up. Soha wrapped her legs around me and I turned, carrying her, backing her against the wall, kissing her hard and passionately. I started pumping into her against the wall, my hard cock pressed against her crotch. "Ohhhhh, yeah, Duncan, mmmmmm." I let her back down to the floor and she led me over to her room by the hand. Her room was partly that of a little girl with stuffed animals everywhere, and partly that of a woman with her table of perfumes and jewelry boxes. "Tell me the truth now, you prefer Fatima's body to mine?" Soha asked as she sat up on the bed. I stood in front of her, looking down on her petite frame. She was pouting in a playful way, adding to her beautiful allure. "You are beautiful. I actually prefer petite women." "Come on, you're just saying that to get me naked, aren't you?" I had to laugh. She certainly wasn't shy. "Take off your t-shirt." "Oh, now all of a sudden you are the commander. What happened to Mr. Doubtful." How she had read my mind earlier, I have no idea; she was saying this while removing her top, of course. "Mmmm, very beautiful. Now the bra." Soha reached in front of her and unclasped the bra from between her two small breasts and teasingly pulled it aside. I knelt down and went straight for her tits, sucking and fondling them with relish. She leaned back on the bed, me half on top of her, continuing to nibble on her nipples as she ran her fingers through my hair. "I think you do like them!" She managed to say through her heavy panting. "Now you, off with the shirt. By the way who taught you fashion? Where did you get that shirt?" Fashion? Who the fuck cares at such a moment? "We'll have to take you shopping one of these days. In the mean time, kiss me again!" Who was I to disagree with a beautiful half-naked woman? I climbed onto the bed and knelt over her, leaning down to kiss her again. I slid her across the bed and lay gently on top of her, our naked chests pressed against one another. I rolled onto my side, continuing to kiss her, allowing my right hand to roam over her tight little body. As my hand sliped over the waist of her jeans and towards her crotch she lifted her left knee up, giving me easy access. I reached down and grabbed her tightly in the crotch, making her arch her back up and moan into my mouth. Her hands quickly went down and started to undo her jeans. I helped her unzip them then pulled them down off her legs, her panties coming along with the tight jeans. Her pussy was clean-shaven (a trait I was to discover that all Arab women seem to have, at least all the ones I had the pleasure of seeing). What an amazing sight, I just wanted to suck it in, and kiss her all over. I crawled back up kneeling over her and started to kiss her neck, nibbling my way down to her breasts. I sucked on one then the other for a few moments, before continuing my journey down her body. I whirled my tongue into her navel, making her squirm from being tickled. I climbed off the bed, and slid her body down to the edge. I knelt on the floor in front of Soha who spread her thin little legs wide apart as I kissed her inner thigh; first the left, then the right. Her pussy lips were glistening slightly from her dampness. I then flicked my tongue over her pussy, making her squirm and moan loudly. She reached down and put her hands on my head and pushed me into her waiting pussy. I dove in with my tongue, burying it deep inside her. I lapped up her wet pussy then began to tongue fuck her. I slid my right hand up and started to rub her clit then slipped a finger inside her pussy. Man was she tight, even my finger seemed to barely slide in, despite all her juices. For Married Eyes Only Ch. 04 She tightened up at first, grabbing my hand and making me go slow. Obviously, she wasn't such the sexually active woman I assumed she was. Slowly I slid my finger into her, then out, gently finger fucking her. I continued to lick the outside of her pussy and began running my tongue lower and lower towards her anus. As I did so, she brought her knees up towards her, giving me easier access to her ass. Eventually her pussy warmed up to my finger and I was able to slid it in and out more quickly. Soha bucked with the rhythm of my finger. She moaned out a few things in Arabic, then as I flicked my tongue over her anus again she grabbed my hand and slammed it hard into her pussy as her body tightened. She yelled a few things out in Arabic again as she climaxed and I licked up her flowing juices. She quickly pushed my hand and head away from her over sensitive pussy as she came down from her climatic high. I crawled back up onto the bed next to her, removing some of her hair from her face and stroking her cheek. Slowly she caught her breath and kissed me on the cheek and in the ear. She didn't seem to want to kiss my lips covered with her cum, so I kissed my way down her neck and over her breasts, rubbing her cum off from my lips as I did so. "Thank you. I love that!" "The pleasure was mine," I replied. "Both of ours." Soha then pushed me off of her and onto my back She went straight for my belt and pulled my slacks and boxers off. "Boxers? No tight little briefs for you? We definitely need to go shopping!" I just laughed, not quite sure what I was getting – a girlfriend, a fuck-buddy, or a fashion consultant. Soha then sat down next to me as I lay out on the bed and started to fondle my cock. She gently played with my balls, cupping them then running her fingers up along my cock. "Kind of hairy, we need to shave you too." Ok, now this was starting to sound too much like a girlfriend, change my wardrobe and my personal grooming. "That is only if you want me to suck you," she said, laughing. With that she kissed the tip of my cock. She parted her tiny mouth and I doubted she would be able to take much of my cock in. I'm not particularly large, average I suppose, just over six inches long. Soha was able to fit the head of my cock into her mouth and whirled her tongue around it. I sighed, enjoying the feel and the sight of her little body leaning over me with the tip of my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. I reached over and rubbed my hand along her leg and pulled her towards me. With my cock still in her mouth, she looked over and realized what I was requesting. She let go of my cock as she repositioned herself, with her pussy over my face. She lowered herself onto me and retook my cock into her mouth. I reached up around her legs grabbing on to her tight around ass as my tongue assaulted her pussy again. She ground her hips into my face allowing me to slide my tongue into her very moistened pussy. As Soha sucked on the tip of my cock and licked me up and down, she began to jerk me off simultaneously. After a few minutes of this, I was ready to cum and started to buck my cock into her mouth. She sensed my orgasm and stopped sucking me. She sat up, forcing her pussy harder onto my face, nearly suffocating me. It didn't distract me enough from my impending orgasm. Soha quickened the pace at which she was whacking me off and then I felt my balls explode, squirting cum out. She let it fall along my cock, now using it as lubricant to keep jacking me off. I took a moment to catch my breath, then continued tongue fucking her. She reached under and started teasing her clit. Soha was rubbing her pussy back and forth along my face and was soon cumming again. She sat there for a few minutes, leaning forward, her hands on my thighs, catching her breath. She then managed to crawl off of me and curled up next to me, nestling her head on my chest. We laid there for a while, in silence, lost in the moment. Just then there was a loud bang and the door swung open and in marched Fatima. She was no longer naked, but wearing a short, light blue silk negligee, coming just below her ass, showing off all of her magnificent cleavage. "Eh, this is no good! I wanted some action! Get to it, I want to watch too!" Soha and I just began to laugh. "Figures you would be cuddling rather than fucking." "Ha, you missed the good part. Duncan has a wicked tongue. So there!" Soha retorted. "Mmmmm, can't wait to find out." "Shut up you slut and get out." They then slipped into Arabic. They both seemed to be laughing at one another and having a good time, though it didn't look like Fatima was going anywhere, as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. Her negligee had hiked up exposing completely her clean-shaven pussy, which she didn't try to hide, invoking a stir in my cock. "I see you like what you see," Fatima said. With that Fatima reached over and started to toy with my flaccid cock. It didn't take much effort on her part to get it hard again, particularly when Soha's hand slid down and fondled my balls. Looking at Soha and directing her question to her rather than I, Fatima asked, "May I?" Without waiting for a reply Fatima leaned over and started licking my cock. Soha removed her hand from my balls and started rubbing my chest and leaned over and kissed me. It was a hot, passionate kiss, her tongue darting in and out of my mouth. I had one arm wrapped around Soha, the other I reached down and started rubbing Fatima's thigh. Fatima wasn't into wasting any time and grabbed my hand and pushed it into her pussy as she continued to lick and suck my cock and balls. I was able to maneuver my hand enough to slid one finger into Fatima's pussy, she was sopping wet. Perhaps it was the remains of her early fuck or just her own juices on overdrive, but she was flowing. Soha broke our kiss and made her way down to my cock and started licking it with Fatima. It was out of this world having these two beautiful young women licking my cock simultaneously. Much better than anything Pasolini imagined in his film adaptation of "Arabian Nights." Well, except for the bow and arrow scene which is etched for ever in memory having seen the trailer for the film when I was a kid. Soha took my cock into her mouth when Fatima sat up to remover her negligee. She was stunningly gorgeous; a perfect ten with her full, firm breasts. She then scooted up the bed and offered me her tits to kiss and suck on. I dove right in, kissing between them and licking my way up to her dark brown nipples. It was heavenly. Fortunately Fatima's tits distracted me enough from the amazing blowjob Soha was giving me to keep me from cumming so soon again. Fatima slid down a bit and we started kissing, her full lips giving way to her talented tongue. I felt some stirring down below and realized that Soha had stopped her blowjob and was repositioning herself over my cock. Fatima broke our kiss as we watched Soha very slow slide down on my cock. She took me in very slowly, just the head at first, then she rocked a little before inserting a little more. Soha's pussy was extremely tight and though wet from her previous orgasms I could tell it was hurting her a bit. I tried very cautiously not to hump my hips, allowing her to control how much of my cock she wanted in her. Fatima sat back to watch the scene and I placed both hands on Soha's hips as she gently rocked back and forth. Eventually I was buried all the way insider her and she stood still for a few minutes getting use to the feel before she started sliding up and down on my cock. Once we got into a rhythm Fatima then knelt up on the bed and swung her leg over me, her pussy just above my face. She and Soha were facing each other and I heard them saying something in Arabic before my face was drowned in Fatima's pussy. I don't think I was licking a creampie, though wan't 100% sure, but who's ever juices they were, it was sweet and I lapped it up. Fatima gyrated her hips on my face as I tried to tongue fuck her. I realized from my position I couldn't enter her very deeply with my tongue and thus relied on licking and sucking on her pussy lips. I reached my hands behind her I grabbed her ass cheeks. I slid one hand closer to her anus and poked her gently with a finger. Fatima moaned and slid down a little further, giving me a signal to tease her ass a little more. My finger was still a little wet from fingering her earlier and I slowly inserted it into her ass. She moaned something in Arabic and I slid my finger deeper. She was rocking her hips fucking my finger in her ass rubbing her pussy along my tongue. By now Soha had picked up the pace and was bouncing up and down on my cock. I was sorry not to be able to watch her elegant face enjoying the fuck and fondling her little tits as she rode me, but certainly was in no position to complain. Soha was about to cum first, I felt her legs tighten up against mine and her pussy clamped tight around my cock. She moaned deeply as she climaxed for the third time that evening. She stopped for just a moment but soon was fucking me again waiting for me to cum. She didn't have to wait long. As I moaned out just before climaxing Soha slid off my cock and jerked me off. I felt my cum squirt out, not sure where it was landing. Soha teased my balls as she continued to jerk me off, getting the last drops of cum to spill out over my cock and her hand. As I was climaxing I felt Fatima nearing her own orgasm. She pressed her pussy down on my face hard, nearly suffocating me. I continued my finger assault on her ass pushing her over the limits. She gushed, and gushed, cum flowing out. I tried lapping up as much as I could, but my face was covered in her juices. I have never met a woman who came as much as Fatima. After her orgasm Fatima rolled off of me and collapsed, her head towards my feet. "Ewwww, look at you. That slut made a mess of you," Soha pointed out, looking at me. "Haaa, what I did to him? What about the mess he made of me?" Fatima retorted. As she was speaking she leaned up, grabbing her tits and displaying the globs of cum I had squirted over them. "Looks like Soha is the only clean one! We'll have to do something about that! Though I think it is going to have to wait a little while," I suggested. With that both of them laughed. Soha got up off the bed and went into her attached bathroom and brought back a warm washcloth for Fatima and I to clean ourselves with. All three of us then curled up onto the bed, one girl on each side, very satiated. We laid there for a while and I started to wonder if I should make my exit. What was the proper protocol? What were the implications if I stayed? If I left now? Seeming to be the mind reader, Soha suggested that I should get going. She hinted something about others keeping track of who came and went. As I got dressed Soha slipped on a camisole with matching panties and a short silk bathrobe. Fatima sat up in the bed and asked for a parting kiss before I left. It was very passionate, like our first kiss, making me wish I could stay. "Don't worry, you're a keeper, I think there'll be more of that. What do you think Soha?" "Mmmmm, not too bad. Perhaps we'll have to test him out a few more times." They both started laughing as I just shook my head in wonderment, what had I gotten myself into? Perhaps I should have heeded Soraya's warning, though was certainly glad I hadn't. Soha escorted me down to the first floor. It wasn't quite the remnants of a drunken orgy, but there were a few half naked bodies entwined with one another to make one wonder what the whole scene was. "Thank you, that was wonderful. I do hope you enjoyed yourself too," Soha said when we reached the door. I leaned down and kissed her, pushing her up against the wall, pressing my body against hers, kissing her hard. "Mmmmm, I'll take that as a yes." "I look forward to seeing you again soon and going on that tour of the city I promised you earlier," I said as I opened the door. "Inshallah, God willing," Soha replied, winking at me. * * * I did meet Soha and Fatima a few other times. When we were out in public it was nothing but innocent friendship, little flirting and no touching. When we were back in their place, it was another story. I didn't have another threesome with them, but on one occasion slept with Fatima, which Soha was well aware of. After a few months they both graduated with their Master's degrees and returned to the UAE. Soha now heads one of the largest foundations in Dubai and is married to a member of the royal family. I recently visited Dubai and was tempted to look her up, but thought it best to let what happened fifteen years earlier lay to rest. As much as I enjoyed Soha and Fatima's youthful energy, I began to understand Soraya's point about girls being girls. There was something different about being with a married woman, even if she was young; perhaps it is the experience, perhaps it is the marriage itself and all the baggage that a husband and wife relationship carries into the bedroom. Married women opened up in different ways and were able to share their bodies with degrees of confidence that few single women had. Once I met Soraya there was no question that she was by far the most confident lover I would ever enjoy being with.