2 comments/  8394 views/  1 favorites

Egypt

By: BrinnaBlaine



I was sitting with Egypt in his apartment, where he'd lit a fire to ward away the chill. It was raining outside, and we were both drenched, but our clothes were starting to dry. We sat on his mother's couch, listening to the crackle of the fire and talking quietly. He took pieces of my hair and twirled them around his fingers as we talked. It was such a simple thing and yet so distracting, still, to be so close to him. 

Since I first saw him outside the Cocoa Café in June, he'd been a constant presence in my mind. There was so much he didn't know about me, but I had no doubt that he loved me. He knew that I was strange, but he had no idea how different I really was.  

He knew I couldn't go out into the sun, but he thought it was simply a light sensitivity or some strange allergic reaction. He knew I had a gift and that I could look into his mind, maybe even his soul. He didn't know that I was Ishtan; a hybrid of ancient Atlanteans and humans. He didn't know that I was going to age so slowly that he could live his whole live and never see it. He didn't know I lived with people who had been alive since the days of ancient Babylon. He didn't know my best friend, at least until a few months ago was a fairy. He didn't know I craved blood, needed it, in fact, to live. 

But he knew me. He knew I was studying to be a priestess in the temple of Aset. He knew I liked plastic beaded bracelets, listening to old music, and reading simple romance novels even when they had the same formula. He knew how to make me smile and laugh. He knew how to kiss me, so that I melted at his touch. And he always managed to say just the right thing no matter how bad I felt. 

We sat now, not speaking, only looking at each other. Egypt had smooth golden skin that I had once described as being coffee heavy with milk. His eyes were the darkest brown so that they almost looked black, even in the light. He was long and leaned, his muscles just slightly toned. His hair fell in jet black curls to his shoulders. It was frizzing now, but it was still beautiful somehow. 

"What are you thinking," he asked, brushing my jaw with his thumb. 

"Just thinking," I said, grinning at him.

"No, come on. Tell me." I laughed. 

"I was just wondering," I said, completely serious, "about what it's like to be able to go out in the sun during the day." He looked thoughtful for a second. 

"Well," he said, after a pause, "It's nice. I really like it." 

"Egypt," I said, "I'm serious." He laughed. That was Egypt; always amused at his own cleverness. 

"Hmm..." He reached down to untie the sash at my waist. I was wearing a simple blue dress that I knew brought out my deep blue eyes. The sash was an accent, mostly, but I stopped him anyway. 

"That's not an answer," I said. He gave me a wicked smile in the dark. 

"Just wait," he said, "you'll see." I let him untie the sash and slip it from around my waist. He held it out and folded it carefully in half. 

"Hold still," he said, and placed the cloth over my eyes, tying it easily behind my head, blindfolding me. 

"This isn't too tight, is it?"

"No, what are you doing?"

"Answering your question," he leaned in and kissed me briefly on my lips, "now listen."

"I'm listening," I said, with a slight smile. I didn't know what he was up to, but he certainly had my attention. 

"When you go outside during the day," he said, "the first thing you notice is the light."

"No kidding," I said, dryly. 

"Hush," he said, "I'm trying to tell you. Now listen." He ran his fingers through my hair beneath the blindfold as he talked. My hair was damp, drying. My scalp tingled at his touch, raising the little hairs on the back of my neck. 

"The first thing you notice is the light," he said again. This time I listened, quietly, playing along. "The light is everywhere. Not just from a specific place like a candle or light bulb or even a fireplace. It's everywhere, and it's never the same.

"Sometimes, it's a soft light, like early in the morning, when the sun first comes up. It's best when you're by a lake or tank where you can really see the colors shining off the surface of the water. There are always so many colors during a sunrise, purples and oranges, pinks and greens. It doesn't matter where you are or what's happing around you, the sunrise is always beautiful." He was still touching my hair. It was perfectly distracting, the steady rhythm of his hands. 

"Then," he said, "the sun comes into the sky and you start to feel it. It dries the dew on the grass and warms the air. It changes everything, changes the colors of things, makes things shine and sparkle and warms your skin like nothing else." He ran his fingers lightly down my bare arms from my shoulders to my elbows with the fingertips of both hands. 

"You feel it in your arms, from your skin to your bones. Sometimes, it feels like the light is going right through you, it's so strong." He brushed his fingertips across my jaw line. I swallowed, wondering of he would kiss me, and wanting it, yet hoping that he would keep talking. 

"You feel it on your face," he said, "warm and bright. You close your eyes, because it's too bright to look right into the sun but you can still see the light, even with your eyes closed."

"Sometimes it's too hot, though," he said, "and you just have to cool off somehow. Then you go for a swim in a pool or the lake. It doesn't matter, because it's the water that's important. When you first get in, it's so cold, because you've been so hot for so long, but you get used to it." He brushed his fingers over my lips and they softened as if he had kissed me. I felt the slight tug as he wrapped a lock of my hair around his fingers. He let it go and I felt it fall back into place, brushing against my neck. I was dying for him to kiss me, but he kept talking.

"The best part, though," he said, "is when you finally get out of the water and start to dry off." He touched my arms again, brushing against the little hairs from my wrist to my elbows. 

"It's the best part, because you're cold again, right at first, as the air hits your wet skin. You're standing in the heat, beneath the burning sun and you're cold anyway, but not for long. The heat from the sun causes the water on your skin to start to dry. You skin dries so fast that it feels like it's shrunk somehow. It feels tight, but not in a bad way. You can feel every nerve. You're arms and legs, your stomach, your chest..." He ran his fingers across my arms again, touching the back of my wrists and then grazing my knees just below the hem of my dress.

"Your face," he continued, cupping my face in his hand. 

"Everything," he said, and he leaned in to kiss me. I reached out and held him so that he couldn't pull away.

"I'm not finished," he said, and I kissed him again.

"Tell me later," I said. He laughed and gave in, kissing me, hungrily. 

I pulled the blindfold off so I could look at him. His eyes were blacker than usual. He kissed me again. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the black curls between my fingers; soft and smooth. He kissed along my jaw line and tipped my chin back to kiss my throat, lingering there for just a moment. It was a strange feeling, someone else's lips on my throat. He kissed the tender place at the base of my throat and worked his way back up to my jaw and then my lips again. 

He worked the zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down over my shoulders. He kissed my bare shoulders, and ran his fingers down my arms again. He caught my arms carefully and guided me until I was lying across the sofa with him sitting next to me, over me. 

It was almost impossible to breathe at all. 

I slipped out of my dress and he traced the line of my body from the straps of my bra to the bit of lace that bordered my panties. He kissed me, just above my navel then trailed kisses up to my throat again, slow sweet kisses that left me breathless. 

"Come with me," he said and stood, taking my hand. He led me to his bedroom. We were on the bed kissing again before I even had a moment to think. It didn't matter. This was what I wanted. All the time in the world wouldn't have changed a thing. 

He slipped his shirt off, tossing it over the side of the bed and we kissed, sitting up on our knees. I traced his skin with my fingers. I had never seen him without his shirt before. He looked at once vulnerable and powerful, beautiful. I studied him. 

I had been wrong before, his skin was not coffee and milk. It was honey, smooth and dark and sweet. It glowed in the light of his bedside lamp, golden and beautiful, slick with sweat like something wild. We touched, searching, exploring, learning each other's bodies and responses. I kissed his throat, ran fingers down the muscles in his arms, the solidness of his chest. I kissed the little hollow above his jeans as he found the button with his fingers and removed them. 

He pulled the blanket down, leaving just the sheets on the bed. He parted them, so that we could slide between them. He undid the clasp of my bra and removed it. He took the panties as well. I was naked in his bed. I wasn't shy with him, but I was glad of the sheets nonetheless. They made me feel a little covered which made me just that much more daring. 

He was hard beneath the sheets and I moved to touch him but he guided me to lie down, his touch firm, as though it was his will alone that I be beneath him and not something I would have done on my own. I let him touch me again, wanting too much to see him to be able to close my eyes. 

Egypt was beautiful, smooth golden skin and deep black hair. Soft careful kisses and wild dark eyes. He took his time but there was an urgency that I did not truly understand but felt as well. 

He looked at me, seeing something in my expression. 

"You've never done this before," he said, surprised. 

I shook my head, "I never wanted to until now." 

He grinned, "don't worry, I'll be gentle." 

"I'm not scared," I said. He laughed and kissed me, catching my lower lip with his teeth and tugging gently on it. I laughed and kissed him hard. He kissed me again and entered me in one effortless, exquisite motion, eyes searching mine. I kissed him back, harder so that he could see how much I wanted him, how much this meant. He moved inside of me, slowly and then quickly with smooth deliberate movements that seemed to consume me from the inside out, so that I felt him even in the soles of my feet. 

I tipped my head back into the soft mattress, a slight moan escaping as I closed my eyes. His lips found my neck, soft kisses against my skin and then the touch of teeth, hesitant at first then harder, spiking the pleasure with pain. Each time his teeth caught my throat, it was like the bite of alcohol in a cold sweet coconut rum, just enough pain to really feel it. 

"Tess!" He laughed in surprise and I realized my nails had pressed deep enough into his skin that it had to hurt. I pulled back. He laughed again, a coarser, deeper sound that raised the skin on my arms and down my back in little shivery bumps. He bit me again, harder. I gasped. He looked at me, the blacks of his eyes filling them up. 

"Egypt," I said. No name had ever meant so much. 

His lips claimed mine, tongue slipping between them to explore the softness of the inside of my lips. He held me, hard enough, it seemed, to bruise me, and moved, filled with the sudden urgency of the moment. 

I raised my hips to him and moaned against his mouth. When his tongue found mine, rough and sweet, it was more than I could stand and I cried out in pleasure and pain. The world exploded into touch and taste, sound and scent. Nothing existed but the steady sound of his breathing, the scent of him and the feeling of skin against skin. I existed only to feel him, the weight of him, lips, tongue, teeth, and the steady pressure of his hands where he held me. I felt clearly, the contrast of the smooth crisp sheets, soft against my legs and the feel of Egypt, hard inside me. 

He jaw tensed and if his fingers hadn't bruised me before, they did now, but it didn't matter. I had gone past pain and only pleasure could find me as it did again and again. 

He breathed my name, his breath hot against my throat. We fell, not away from the pleasure, but into it, like a bubbling hot tub, letting waves of pleasure pass over us as his lips found mine, again and again. 

Slowly, we became aware, once more, of the world around us. A hundred times since I'd met him, I'd wished that time could stop. This time was no different. I could have stayed with him forever. I didn't need the Ishtan city, with it's fairies and vampires. I could live without the servants, the expensive clothes, the jewelry, the gold. I didn't need any of it. What I did need, though, was the blood. Again, I knew, I had to go back. It didn't matter what I wanted or how much I loved this boy. And I did love him, I realized. It didn't matter that it was against the rules to even befriend a human outside the city. I loved him and I would do what I had to, to be near him. Just let them try to tear us apart. I had followed them without thinking for all of my life. I had let them tell me how to live, what to wear and what to think. I had fought for nothing, but I would fight for this. 

"Are you okay," Egypt touched my face, worried. 

"I am," I said. 

"Good," he said and his voice held a trace of roughness, "I love you, you know." He didn't give me a chance to answer. His lips found mine and I kissed him back, I couldn't say the words, but I could show him how I felt. I kissed him with everything I had. I love you, too.

Egypt, When The Walls Fell







Egyptian Fantasy



It's the weekend and we've decided to drive out away from the city. Its a lovely evening and the intense heat of the day is giving way as the shadows lengthen. But it's still warm enough to want to get naked together under the Egyptian sky!

We find a lovely spot at the edge of some water away from prying eyes. We're surrounded by bushes and have a view across the lake. Unfolding the rug we spread it out and put the picnic items under a bush to keep cool. 

We can't wait to lie down together and as soon as we do I tuck my left arm under your head and French kiss you full on the lips, 'cos I'm feeling so horny for you. As our tongues dance around each other my right hand strokes your breasts through your thin blouse. Soon it snakes underneath and starts to play with your nipples and kneed the soft flesh surrounding them. 

Your gentle moans tell me you're enjoying that! Its not long before your right hand delves inside my loose fitting trousers and finds my rigid manhood. You stroke it gently up and down the shaft with your finger nails. My soft moans join yours in a chorus of pleasure. Then you squeeze it, softly at first but getting harder each time... and each time you extract a groan of delight from me.

Oh boy, I want you! But I'm not going to rush this. I can feel you pulling the foreskin back off the head of my penis, just how I like it, and I know you want to get down there and suck that purple bulge, but I'm not going to let you do it... not just yet.

My goal is to get you completely naked, out there in the Egyptian air. I undo your blouse and expose your breasts. Your beautiful brown nipples are engorged with blood and I can see how aroused you are. I lift your left breast up and suck your nipple into my mouth while flicking it back and forth with my tongue.

You start to moan more loudly and now you're rubbing my cock up and down it's shaft. I pull my trousers down to expose my lower body to the fresh air, and to give you better access to me. You lift your right knee and push the garment down my legs and off me with your foot. In so doing you expose your knickerless pussy from under your uplifted skirt. 

That sends a shiver of delight through me. I want to see your cunt lips! I want to spread them wide! I want to expose your juicy fuck-fruit for the world to see! 

I lift your right knee and pull the hem of your skirt right up so that I can see and smell your hot wet pussy. You lift your left knee up to mirror it and expose yourself even more. 

Ah... so beautiful!!! I bend my head down to lick and suck your clitoris. But the position is not good. Your vulva is too low and I want to spread it wider. So I move around and kneel between your legs. Then I lift your ankles and spread your thighs open... lifting your wonderful sex into the air. 

Oh dam, your wide open cunt is right there in front of me now... voluptuous and pouting like a sex starved debutante! Such an amazing 'come-and-get-me' revelation... such erotic anticipation... such delicious hotness... so much 'give-it-to-me' wetness... so much wanton willingness! 

I can't resist you any longer! Thrusting forward I aim my throbbing tool at your naked shaved vagina. Like a missile right on target I hit the bull's-eye. My purple head penetrates you and spreads your vaginal entrance open as it thrusts itself inside. 

As the head of my cock enters your pussy a multitude of voluptuous nerve endings shoot thousands of messages to your brain, just as do mine. Electricity courses through our hot sex nerves, through your clitoris, and down my cock, to the base of our spines, and up to the pleasure centres in our brains. We groan with pleasure, you and me... your pleasure centres talking to mine and mine to yours... like electric shocks shooting back and forth through unseen filaments of desire linking your aroused sex to mine. 

I hold my throbbing purpleness there for a few seconds savouring the exquisite sensations. Then with one long thrust I push the whole of my shaft deep inside you... filling you up deliciously and completely.

The pleasure is so intense that I almost cum... but I'm determined to give you the fuck of your life, so I grit my teeth and think of England! You pleasure is also intensity itself. I can see it on your face and hear it in your voice. 

It's all I can do to hook your knees over my shoulders as I collapse onto the back of your upturned thighs. Your legs are at full stretch under me now and the sense of being opened, pressed, stretched, distended and extended, both inside and out heightens your pleasure and brings you to the brink of orgasm. 

I look into your eyes and you look into mine. We smile at each other and I lower my head and kiss your lips. Then I lift my torso on my arms as if to do press-ups, lift up my buttocks thus drawing my cock almost out of you, and thrust down hard into you again. 

That's all you need to tip you over the edge. You shout out as a wave of orgasm pulses through your body, beginning in your inflamed vulva and rippling through your whole body. I can feel your cunt throbbing around my cock as your body jerks under me.

I'm determined to make this one mother of an orgasm for you so I keep thrusting into you and you keep shuddering under me as one wave of pleasure after another courses through your body. I has to be the longest hottest orgasm I've ever been a part of!

Eventually, before it dies away, I let myself go and in several powerful spasms fill your pussy with my warm cum. That's the icing on the cake for you and you let rip with an enormous cry which pierces the evening air. Then your body relaxes and we lie together in a state of spent exhausted bliss. 

How long we lie there we don't know but soon we hear the splashing of oars and excited voices. Through the reeds we can see a boat being rowed towards us by two bronzed Egyptian men. Evidently they heard your orgasmic scream and thinking it might be something more sinister are coming to investigate.

We only just have time to wipe ourselves dry and get dressed before they reach the bank a few metres from us. But the bank is steep and they struggle to climb it. We decide to let them know that all is well and stand up, looking sheepish but grinning broadly.

They see us, and quickly realising what the noise was burst out laughing and clapping. Seeing a white man and a black woman in a state of disarray among the bushes at the edge of the lake is obviously a source of great amusement for them, especially knowing what we've been up to. The merriment continues for some time.

We start to pack up but we don't want to go. It's such a lovely spot and there's still our picnic, and we've only just started the evening's fun! However it doesn't looks as if these would-be rescuers want to leave in a hurry. 

Then with great presence of mind you realise that you have a spare pair of lacy knickers in your bag. You take them out and walking to the edge of the bank throw them to the men. One of them catches your peace offering, examines it and holding it up laughing blows you a kiss. You blow a kiss back to him, then wave them goodbye. 

He passes it to the other man and they laugh and blow kisses to you. Then getting the message they climb back into the boat and row away, turning around frequently to smile and wave and blow kisses. 

We watch them with a sense of warmth as they retreat across the water, asking ourselves whether anyone in Britain would have reacted in the same way, coming to your rescue like that, and then accepting your gift and unspoken explanation with such good grace and humour. 

Such warm people in such a warm country!

We sit down and eat our picnic. Then we have 'desert' in the traditional way... again and again until well into the night.

The End



Egyptian Femdom For Somali Men



"Manal, you're way too controlling," whispered my sub, Omar Jibril, as I raised his legs in the air, angled for the perfect position and gleefully pushed my strap-on dildo into his tight, cute ass. Once I penetrated him, Omar the macho Somali brother began singing a different tune, and I absolutely loved it.

Omar looked at me and I saw a mixture of lust, admiration and fear in those dark eyes of his. I'm five-foot-ten, with curly black hair and dark bronze skin. Exotic, that's the word people use most often when they meet me. Curvy and sexy, and neither fat nor thin, but with a big booty, that's how I've occasionally described myself. I look pretty good in a black tank top, black leather miniskirt and thigh-high black boots. Omar's gaze tells me the brother definitely agrees.

Deep within the basement of my parents house in the south end of metropolitan Calgary, Alberta, Omar and I got down and dirty. The website I recently set up generates a lot of traffic, just like I thought it would. I used to advertise in the back pages of the Calgary Sun newspaper, but I've moved on to greener pastures.

The carefully selected and decidedly provocative words "Muslim Femdom" seem to attract a lot of people, since many people consider a dominant Muslim woman to be something of an oxymoron. I guess they feel that way because they definitely haven't met me. Painful mistake if you ask me.

"That's Mistress Manal to you, pathetic worm," I said, a wicked smile on my face as I worked the strap-on dildo into Omar's ass. The big and tall Somali dude winced as I swiftly penetrated him, and I watched his otherwise handsome face twist in concentration. To really shine Omar on, I slapped him hard across the face.

With his hands and feet bound by the strong restraints I recently acquired for our makeshift dungeon, Omar was positively helpless. Not an easy thing, considering he's a six-foot-four, strongly built specimen of Somali masculinity. Now he was completely in my power, and I couldn't get enough of it.

"Whoa there," Omar said, his big brown eyes widening in shock once I slapped him. I love surprising my subs during play, seriously. The look on Omar's face was pure shock, followed by anger, and resentment, and I smiled wickedly, and thrust the dildo even deeper into his ass.

Omar gritted his teeth, trying to tough it out like so many of my male subs have tried over the years. I wouldn't have it any other way because I like to dominate strong men. Weak men don't appeal to me for obvious reasons. I like a challenge. Give me that sweet ass Omar, I thought wickedly as I plunged my dildo into the forbidden depths of my sub's ass.

"Stop holding back Omar," I said, and a wicked thought shot through my brain. I grasped Omar's dick in my hand and began stroking him while fucking his ass with my strap-on dildo. The Somali stud moaned deeply as I stroked his dick to its full hardness, and I felt Omar hold his breath as I caressed his dick head.

"Yes ma'am," Omar whispered, and I nodded contentedly, glad that my sub was finally learning to follow proper decorum. I'm a stickler for the rules as far as BDSM goes. Some people might say that I'm anal about the rules. Well, I'm anal about a lot of things. Big L.O.L. moment there, I guess.

What else can you expect from a gal named Manal Ashraf? I swear, several times when I tried to make a Yahoo account, the damn site refused, saying that my name has profanity in it. Don't ask. I am a professional, unlike a lot of whip-sporting sex kittens who've seen a porno flick or two and think they're dominant when they're really not. There aren't a lot of Muslim women in the North American BDSM scene, and that's a damn shame.

I was born and raised in the City of Calgary, Alberta. My father, Ahmed Ashraf is Egyptian, and my mother Amina Osman is Somali. I consider myself as Canadian as anyone. After graduating from the University of Calgary with a bachelor's degree in business, I looked for work all over Alberta and couldn't find anything worth my time.

That's how I ended up a clerk at a Chapter's bookstore, I guess. While working in the store, I discovered BDSM literature and became utterly fascinated. I began attending munches for the BDSM community in Calgary and Edmonton, and began exploring with willing parties. Thus, I found my true calling. I am a dominatrix, and I am damn good at it.

"Nice dick you've got there," I said, pumping my hand up and down Omar's dick, and the Somali stud sighed happily. Dude is really well-endowed, I must admit. Still, I don't like a dude who gets cocky when being complimented about his cock. That's why I twisted Omar's dick, and he cried out in pain. I winked at Omar, drinking in the look of fear and shock I saw on that handsome mug of his.

"You're a mean one," Omar said, somewhat angrily, and I saw anger and defiance in his eyes. With his jaw set, Omar refused to say another word, even though I twisted his dick this way and that, and even pinched on those big, dark and wonderfully hairy balls of his. 

"So that's how you want to play it," I said, glaring at Omar, and he smirked without answering. I smiled, and then grabbed something from a nearby table. My trusty flogger, bright red and ebony, and one of my favorite tools when it comes to taming unruly male subs who don't realize that in my dungeon, a domain where female power is at its utmost, I reign supreme.

"I will make you my bitch," I retorted, and the challenge I saw in Omar's eyes thrilled me like you would not believe. I fucked him some more, slamming my strap-on dildo into that sweet, tight Somali ass of his. Omar grunted but did not scream, and I decided to go to town on him.

How do you break down a strong man? Well, if at first you don't succeed, I say try again. Oh, and if one thing doesn't work, try another. And if none of these work, then throw everything you've got at him. That's exactly what I did to Omar Jibril of Somalia. I whipped his chest, his arms and his legs. I nearly crushed his balls between my fingers, and of course, I plunged the strap-on dildo as far into Omar's ass as it would go.

"Fuck it I give up, bitch! You win!" When those words left Omar Jibril's lips, I smiled and then did something which really, really pissed him off. I pressed a special button on my mechanized strap-on dildo, and it shot its load deep inside of him. That's right, I've got a cum-spewing strap-on dildo. I pumped load upon load of hot, artificial cum in Omar's ass. 

"Oh fuck," Omar said, sighing and slumping on the table, held aloft only by his restraints at this point. I gently touched Omar's face, and looked into his eyes. At last I saw what I had been looking for. A look of utter defeat and utmost surrender. Finally I, Mistress Manal of Calgary, Alberta, claimed victory over my sub, Omar Jibril.

"Thank you Mistress Manal," Omar said, smiling and even hugging me as I freed him from his restraints. I looked at this tall, beautiful specimen of African masculinity and smiled. Omar is simply beautiful, seriously. I smiled and then helped him up, and pointed him to the showers at the far corner.

"Wonderful," I said to myself as Omar Jibril, a happily married father of three, educated in civil engineering at the University of Toronto and employed at Avmax Group Incorporated, one of Calgary's top aerospace companies got into his fancy Mercedes and drove off into the night. 

I always check out my potential subs thanks to some wicked software I've got running on my website. You'd be amazed how much you can find out about people's lives. Omar's wife Khadija Hassan is a lovely Somali woman he met in Calgary and their sons Kader, Ibrahim and Wahid are lovely. Lots of professional men come to me for services, and I welcome them. I used to feel bad about the secret background check but not anymore. Always know who you're dealing with, those are words that I live by.

After this memorable session, I went to the upstairs shower, and cleansed myself. Then I sat in my living room and watched the newest episode of Revenge, a show that I find deliciously addictive. Ever since Dexter and Breaking Bad ended, TV has become boring, with few exceptions. Revenge, Arrow, Game of Thrones and Supernatural, that's all I watch nowadays. 

As I sat there, I couldn't focus on the TV episode. My thoughts kept drifting back to that session with Omar Jibril, the handsome Somali brother with the hot body and the big dick. A thrill shot through me and I felt a wetness begin between my legs. My hand slipped between my thighs and I began fingering my pussy. Sweet Omar, I thought as I closed my eyes. 



Egyptian Holiday



We are on holiday in Egypt when you are drugged and abducted from our hotel room during the night. You have no recollection of anything after leaving the restaurant but when you awake you find yourself in a huge Palace, secured to a large bed dressed in flimsy see-through gowns.

After a while a pretty Egyptian girl enters the room and smiles at you. This relieves your anxiety a little, especially when another girl arrives and offers you a drink, feeding it to you as your hands are still secured behind you.

A European looking woman enters the room, followed by two guards. The guards undo the straps binding your wrists while the woman explains what's happening. She tells you that you have been kidnapped for the Sultans pleasure; that in this country women have no rights and that they exist only for men's pleasure. "He likes to see pretty young European women being gang-banged by his slaves!" she explains "he enjoys watching them getting the fucking of their lives!"

You try to escape, to make a run for it, but the two guards hold you firmly and as you struggle and protest the woman laughs and tells you the Sultan prefers it if you are unwilling, that he likes to see the girls put up a fight.

She tells you that once he's had his pleasure with you he will set you free unharmed.

You are taken to a huge grand room where the Sultan is sat on his throne. His face is covered apart from his eyes. Even these you cannot see as they are in shadow.

He gives a signal to the guards and the guards proceed to strip you naked, simply tearing off the flimsy garments you were dressed in.

You realise now why your pussy lips are a bit sore...they have removed all the hair from your pussy, probably by waxing or sugaring judging by how smoothly its been done. You feel even more exposed and vulnerable, knowing how clearly visible your pussy is.

They take you to a large, well padded leather covered frame, there are straps attached to it with which they fasten you to it. It is designed to hold you on your hands and knees with your legs spread very wide apart.

Once they have finished securing you, you're completely helpless yet the padding and position you are in make it perfectly comfortable, there is even a cushion for you to rest your head on although at this stage you are feeling too nervous to make much use of it, especially when you see the procession of naked men enter the room, marching in time with a slow drum beat. They line up before you...

There are ten of them, tall well muscled Yul Bryner look-alikes with clean shaven heads and intense, staring eyes, all of them looking at you with lust.

The woman claps her hands and two young slave girls enter the room, strip naked and are given instructions by the woman in Egyptian. They approach you and begin paying with you, using sweet perfumed oils to massage into your skin, and then moving behind you to play with your pussy until you feel yourself getting turned on. 

One of them holds your pussy open and gently flicks her tongue back and forth across your clitoris while the other girl uses two oily fingers to thrust in and out. They keep this up till you are getting really excited, despite the fact that your mind wants no part of this your body can't help but responding to it.

You have had you're eyes closed for a while but you get a shock when you open them. The slaves are all being injected with something into the base of their cocks... "Paperverin...its a drug used to produce long lasting erections to treat impotence..." she explains to you "although in this case to make sure they stay hard even after they come!"

She prepares a small syringe with a tiny needle on it. "This one is for you" she explains "An invention of the Sultans scientists...it produces a kind of allergic reaction to fresh semen...a rather interesting reaction I think you will find...instantaneous orgasms, guaranteed!" she laughs menacingly "Think of it, every time one of them comes so will you!" And with that she plunges the needle into your bottom and injects it into you.

The men now approach you menacingly, all of them now in full erection, their very rigid cocks of various sizes from about average to one guy in particular who has the biggest cock you have ever seen! It is truly terrifying!

The two girls stop playing with your pussy and you realise that this is it...you are going to be fucked by these men...gang-raped whether you like it or not. They are going to take it in turn to force their cocks inside you and fuck you, repeatedly, over and over again.

You panic and struggle, crying out for mercy but there is none. One of the slaves grabs your hair and makes you take his cock in your mouth, effectively gagging you as he makes you suck it.

You feel hands on you, large hands working ever closer to your extremely wet pussy. Oil is poured over you and massaged into your skin. Your pussy too is thoroughly oiled; two very large fingers enter you, working the oil up inside you.

Abruptly these are withdrawn and you feel a hot, very hard cock nudge at your pussy lips. Oily hands on your bum pull your cunt open and the cock is slowly and deliberately worked inside you, deeper and deeper until you are completely impaled upon his stiff cock. It's not too large; you can take it all inside you without discomfort as he starts fucking you with it, gently but firmly with full, long strokes.

You don't want this; you don't want to be raped by these men, watched by the Sultan for his entertainment. You keep telling yourself you hate it, that you love me, that you don't want them to do this to you...

To your shame however your horny little cunt is getting wetter and wetter, you are getting more and more turned on by the minute. You can't help yourself...he keeps on fucking you, on and on...

The slave in your mouth pulls out just in time for you to plead for mercy as you feel the one inside you start ramming his cock into you really hard, panting and moaning as he nears his climax.

Suddenly he gives a strangled cry and you feel him shooting hot jets of sperm inside you as he comes. To your horror you are immediately wracked with one of the most intense orgasms ever, crying out loud in pleasure...

As your orgasm subsides your worst fears are realised... Everything the woman had said was true! The slaves cock is still rock hard and he's not going to stop, he's going to fuck you till he comes again and again and there's nothing you can do about it! 

They are each going to make you come three or four times at least, they are going to make you come so many times, over and over again...

You feel the slave getting ever closer to his second orgasm, his balls slapping against your clitoris as he fucks you really hard and fast. Your cunt is really sopping wet, you can't believe how excited you are.

Suddenly he comes again, pumping his sperm, hot jets deep inside your pussy. Immediately you come again, such unbelievably intense spasms of pleasure you are forced to cry out again and again.

You can feel semen running down the insides of your thighs as he continues his thrusts into your saturated hole, brutally fucking you on and on, remorselessly fucking you till he makes you come again on his cock.

Finally he pulls out and another larger cock immediately takes its place. It begins to enter you and you are so wet and rampant that it slides in with little difficulty despite its thickness. The slave fucks you slowly at first, pumping the full length of his big cock in and out of your tight wet pussy. You moan as he tells you he can come five or six times in succession before he will finish with you. He's not lying and you know it!

Increasingly it dawns on you that they are going to rape you over and over again. They are going to make you come so much you cannot stand any more... and then they are just going to carry on anyway. They don't care that you don't want this, they don't care if you can't stand it, they are just going to carry on anyway, fucking you and fucking you, making you come repeatedly time and time again!

True to his word, six orgasms later the slave finally pulls his dripping cock from you. Your cunt is so well lubricated with all that semen you hardly feel any soreness.

You feel a smaller cock positioned at your arsehole and slowly you feel it being forced up your bum. Once he's got it inside you feel another, larger cock being pushed inside your pussy and they begin to both fuck you at once. 

These two slaves both take a long time to come, holding off for as long as they can. When they do it is almost simultaneous, making you come twice in very quick succession!

Time and time again you are taken by the Sultans slaves till you are practically delirious with pleasure...each one in turn forcing you to come so many times on their large stiff cocks.

The slave with the biggest cock has waited till last. This is what you have been trying to avoid thinking about, knowing full well you were going to get it anyway! Once all the other slaves have done with you he takes up position behind you and slowly feeds you his enormous penis! 

Despite being fucked so much already it is so thick that it makes your cunt feel really small and tight. You struggle to accommodate him, trying hard to relax your muscles. It is uncomfortable at first, stretching you open wider and wider, more than you thought possible until he finally forces it right up inside you.

You feel so full, so very tight stretched around his massive penis. He shoves it in and out, slowly at first, letting you get used to his size.

"You fucking tight little bitch, relax, I want to enjoy this...it's like having my cock in a vice! Relax your cunt or I'll open you up properly with my fist!" he snarls.

That does it, you really concentrate on relaxing and you soon find it much more comfortable. He shoves his massive cocking and out, harder and harder, holding off his orgasm as long as he can, pumping you until you feel his cock swell even thicker then erupts inside you, hot thick jets of his come against your cervix, causing yet another incredibly intense orgasm in you.

Still he continues...he's nowhere near finished with you yet, he just goes on fucking, that huge cock thrusting and thrusting relentlessly, making you come again and again each time he does.

The slave is totally without compassion, totally without mercy. He really does not care whether you want it or not or even if it hurts you. He's just going to keep on at you, fucking you, shooting his hot spurts of come inside you just as long as he can, regardless of how many times you will have to come too!

He simply won't stop, fucking you mercilessly on and on, your cries of passion reverberating around the room. You are raped so many times, used as a receptacle for their sperm, as a cunt to be fucked that you lose count of how many times you are made to come.

Eventually after what seems like hours the Sultan raises his hand and your fucking ceases, the slave holding still, his cock still filling you. The Sultan rises from his throne and walks toward you.

You stare at him panting, exhausted with pleasure, the massive cock still impaling you. He speaks...

"You have pleased me well fair maiden but there is something else I must see... You have given yourself to of all my slaves, come for them, given yourself fully to them..." "But I had no choice...!" you cry "You made me!"

"SILENCE!" He shouts. "Now you will give yourself to me, you will take my hand, my whole fist...you will open yourself totally and completely for me!"

You bow your head, knowing that he is going to do this to you, to put his entire fist inside your body; you have no choice about it...

"What do you say?" the slave inside you demands, his cock nudging at your cervix as if prompting you to answer.

"Yes Master, I am at your mercy; you can do anything you want..." you moan "Tell me you want it... tell me you want my fist inside you!" the Sultan demands...

"I do, I want it... I want you to fuck me with your fist!" you hear yourself saying, your pussy twitching and clenching around the slaves massive shaft at the thought of it!

The Sultan seems to have some kind of hold over you, you are amazed to realise you actually want him to do this to you...

Massive the slaves cock may be but nowhere near as large as the Sultans hand... You feel the slaves cock being abruptly withdrawn leaving an aching emptiness that desperately needs filling.

The Sultan moves behind you to take you with his fist. You are still extremely aroused and your cunt has been well-opened by the slaves huge penis, all wide and loose and accommodating, ready for this now.

Although your pussy is sopping wet from all their come he oils his fist and you feel his fingers, four of them at once, enter you, slowly sliding up inside you all the way to the knuckles. You are surprised how easily they fit, even more so when his thumb joins them, all five digits up to the knuckles.

As he pushes harder you realise its still going to be difficult to take it, the whole fist, you can feel the widest part of his hand wedged in the ring of muscles, your elastic little hole stretching wider and wider for him.

You try to open yourself for it, breathing slowly and deeply you try to relax yourself. He's hurting you now as it advances, you can feel your pussy muscles stretching and stretching, bit by bit as he increases the pressure. You do your best to ignore the pain, bearing down on it as you feel yourself being skewered, impaled on the Sultans large fist!

The pain gets worse and you start to panic, moaning and whimpering you start to struggle "AAAAaaaaaaahhhh!" you cry out, feeling the full width of his hand opening your pussy completely, so very wide, sliding in, huge and slippery...

"Oh GOdddd, it's too big! Please take it out?" you moan desperately, knowing full well he won't...that fist isn't coming out of you until you've been well and truly fucked by it! Despite your plea you know you're glad of it...You know you are going to be fisted to orgasm, no matter how long it takes, and you want it!

The widest part of his hand is still lodged in the entrance of your pussy, holding it open, allowing you to get accustomed to the stretching...

"Good girl, very good, you've done it you sexy little bitch, you're taking my whole fist!" he say's as you feel his hand sliding right up your pussy, curling into a fist inside you.

The two young girls now return and under instruction from the European woman go to work on you again, one of them putting her head between our legs and lapping at your gooey cum-soaked pussy.

You groan aloud, such exquisite pleasure, your clitoris is unbelievably sensitive, each lick of her tongue forcing you to squirm and moan in ecstasy.

The Sultan begins to fistfuck you, gently moving his hand back and forth, a slow fucking motion, in out, in out. It feels incredible, so huge yet it is turning you on so much!

You had been concerned that you would not be able to come with his hand inside you; that it would hurt too much, but the combined attention of the girls tongue and his fist soon dispel those fears. As your excitement mounts he starts to fist you faster and faster, your juicy sloppy wet pussy welcoming each delicious thrust. 

You can hear how wet and juicy you are, your pussy making sexy, slurping slushy sounds as you are fucked.

"What a greedy little pussy you have...she really can't get enough, can she?" he says.

"Oh God no Sir, please fuck me, make me come on your fist... make me... I want to...so much...AAAaaaaaaggghhhhh!" you cry out again and again as you start to orgasm. You have never had one like this before...it goes on and on, your whole body convulsed with pleasure, his fist pumping in and out, fucking you throughout.

Finally after what seems like an eternity your orgasm starts to fade, strong spasms still wracking your body. When it is over you are panting heavily, moaning with pleasure, completely exhausted.

You feel the hand being pulled from you, your pussy feeling slightly worse for wear! The Sultan comes and stands before you and removes the veil from his face...

You are shocked... with bleary eyes you look at his face and realise the Sultan is me! 



Egyptian Initiation



I now understand that my subconscious was miles ahead of my "surface" brain on knowing what I wanted. Male models apparently are as justly characterized as thick brained as female models are reputed to be. There was no blame to cast; I'd seen the Egyptian doctor (if he really was a doctor) work the young men on the gym floor and in the shower room. There was no reason my surface brain wouldn't know he was a sexual predator. In the end, I'm really glad it happened, though.

The Egyptian was a magician really—and I was the world's worst dummy. The first encounter happened without me having a clue about what had happened even when it was over. I was a few years older than those the Egyptian was targeting at the gym—and he was a good twenty years older than I was. He touched me in the sauna, and my cock burbled out juice without warning and certainly without my really realizing we were having any form of sex. He had a mesmerizing voice, and I got horny without the usual arousal mechanisms—no warning really. He was doing this monologue about being circumcised or not in those doctor words of his, as if we were having an academic discussion or a medical consultation, and he had his long, thin fingers on my cock head before I really knew what he was doing. I was so surprised that I shot right off. I was greatly embarrassed, thinking I had probably misjudged his intent and now he'd think I was queer. I left the sauna in a highly confused state.

For his part, he probably just thought I was performing a hard-to-get mating dance. I hadn't clocked him when he got hold of my cock. I'd just sat there and stared dumbly.

I stewed about the encounter for a week, and although I didn't think I was attracted to Egyptians, this one was quite handsome and distinguished and sensual looking. The next time we were in the sauna alone, I more or less set myself up for the pass, thinking he probably wouldn't even make one and I could put my confusion to rest. I stretched out on my back, towel loosely around my waist and stretching down to my knees. He came in and sat on the bench below me and in back of me. In somewhat of a trembling condition, I spread my thighs so that from where he was sitting, he could see up under my towel and check out the goods (if he wanted to). He obviously wanted to and liked what he saw.

An electric jolt went through me and I suddenly knew we were "doing something," when I felt his strong, long fingers on my foot and he was massaging it—the sole and the toes—and slowly pulling on toes in a sensual way. I went hard. He slowly worked his hand up my calf and knee and under the hem of the towel. That's when he started murmuring to me how nice my body was—and I was narcissistic enough to melt to his seduction. He'd seen me work out on the gym floor, he said, and he knew I was in TV commercials. His hand slowly went up the inside of my thigh and he was lightly stroking my cock. I shoot off almost immediately again. And, thick lunkhead that I was, I apologized for early ejaculation. This hadn't happened to me with women. Obviously the new experience with men was just that much more arousing.

Still holding my cock, he said he could teach me some techniques that would help with that problem—he was talking like a doctor and like it would be something I could use with the women I was with. I weakly said I didn't have a problem with women, but I was talking pretty weakly because my attention was riveted to what he was doing with his hand. He was palming my cock and stroking the pisshole with a thumb, rubbing my ejaculated cum around the head. He was still talking clinically enough that I was fooling myself a bit about what was going on. I said I'd think about it.

The next week, he overheard me being told that my regular masseur wouldn't be there that afternoon—I always worked out, showered, and then was rubbed down. The Egyptian then asked me while we were still out on the floor exercising whether I'd like to come back to his apartment after we worked out and he'd give me the massage I was missing. I was all aflutter, still not positive where this was leading, when we got to his place. He did have a massage room with a padded table and all. And he massaged my back and legs and arms with oil—doing a better job than my regular masseur did. He told me to roll over on my back, and when I did so, I saw that he now was naked. He was tall and lithe, but very well muscled, and he had a thin but very long dong. It wasn't hard at all, so I rationalized that I was pretty safe.

He was massaging my front with oil and my cock was standing up straight—and I was very embarrassed, not being able to control it and still figuring there was an outside chance he wasn't trying to do me, that this was all a misunderstanding on my part. When he got to my pelvis, he slowly jerked me off. I made some embarrassed comments about being sorry I'd gotten hard, and he could just try to ignore that, but he was soothing me with words to the effect that the Egyptian massage method included an "evacuation of the pent-up essences" and it was all very normal in the Egyptian context. But even then he was starting to teach me control. He'd pump me up and then hold off until I cooled. My cock and his hands were so oiled that there was little friction at all in what he was doing. At last he let me ejaculate and cleaned it up with a towel. He then massaged all of the muscles on my front side real well again and I got drowsy.

He came around to above my head and he was massaging my temples and really putting me to sleep. He put his hands on my upper sides and pulled me up on the table until my head dropped off the end of the table and he was still working my temples. Then I felt his cock at my lips and he was pushing in, suddenly very hard. I was shocked because he had hardened up almost instantaneously (something I later learned was in his bag of tricks). He didn't push far in, but I sort of spit it out and told him, rather frightened, that I'd never sucked a man before—that, in fact, I'd never had any form of sex with a man until now.

He went all impressed and joyful at the news that he had a virgin on his hands. While I had been wondering what was going on, he had just thought I was into a foreplay game. He asked me if I'd let him initiate me. He begged me to let him prepare me for future encounters. He entreated me that I'd never have anyone as gentle and skilled as him if I had any inkling I wanted to be with men. He flattered me by wondering how anyone who looked like me could have gotten this far without going bi. He showed me a picture of his wife (really was his wife, I found out later) and assured me that many men took pleasure both ways. Something inside me told me I didn't want to deny myself any opportunities to full sensuality, and I gulped and asked him if he really would be gentle. (I didn't think to ask him why I wasn't going to be fucking him instead, if I was all that hot.) To prove he would be gentle and careful, his cock did go back into my mouth, but only a little ways, and rotated around. He said we wouldn't have to get much into that for now. (My guess is that he wanted to get his dick up my ass before I thought better of the situation.)

He sent me off with an enema bottle then, saying I'd be more comfortable if I was cleaned out—and he went off to take a ritualistic shower (he said). He didn't want me to take a shower, I guess, because he wanted to roll around in the oil I'd been basted in.

When I came back, he had me go up on my belly on the table—I was oiled up so well now I could have slid off the table. I assumed he'd suck me off to show me how that was done, but he obviously was going straight for the main event. A virgin is a virgin. An American male model virgin in the grasp is probably a trip to paradise for an Egyptian. He put a pretty bulky pillow under my belly to lift my pelvis up. He then got up on the table, pushed my thighs wide, and got down behind me and tongued my asshole for a while. His tongue also went to the underside of my cock and around my balls and across my inner thighs in this process. All the time he was telling me how nice I was and assuring me that I was slowly opening and that I'd be well open before he mounted me. He was pretty good at his word on that. He patiently worked on me for an hour or more (during which I shot off a couple more times, with his encouragement and clucking that I had nothing to be embarrassed about—I could reload within twenty minutes in those days and shoot off five or six times a night when I was really aroused). Varieties of lubricant were applied, some of which was for deadening the area (and probably was illegal). After his tongue, he went to fingers. He had long, sensual ones, and he could easily reach my prostate and showed me how he could make me shoot off just by rubbing me there. Then well-oiled fingers probing deeper. Whatever he was using to deaden pain was only used on the rim and just a few inches inside, so he could be in a couple of inches before I even knew I was being skewered. He showed me a couple of smallish dildos of increasing size before he lubed them up and screwed them into my ass and around. Not much pain in any of this, and I was jacked up to the roof at the very idea of what was happening to me—the sheer risk and adventure of it—and the fact that I'd finally been brave enough to give it a try.

After more than an hour, I felt his cock at my back door, and he very slowly entered me—and entered me and entered me and entered me. That was one long cock. It felt like the uncoiling of a snake inside me. He had one of those "bent up" cocks too, so I could feel the head dragging along my ass canal walls as it plowed up me. There was some pain now, but I'm sure minimal pain for a first time. I'd been as gently prepared as I could wish for. He rode me, slowly pumping me deep, for a good thirty minutes, drawing out his pleasure with the virgin as much as he could, I suppose. He was braced on his knees behind me and either kept his hands hooked over my shoulders or palmed flat on my shoulder blades as his cock worked me. He was chattering away in his singsong voice, no doubt keeping me calm and mesmerized, and I could tell that the experience was quite arousing for him too, because he came quickly (for him—he was the master of self-control). His ejaculation felt like a warm oozing inside me, sort of a foreign tickling sensation.

He held there for a while, his cock buried to the hilt, massaging my muscles again and telling me what a lovely young man I was. I felt him go tumescent inside me. But he just kept massaging me, not letting me up. And I felt him start to engorge and fill up my ass canal again. I didn't feel sore inside, but the deadening was wearing off on the rim of my ass, and I felt a little chaffed there. It was obvious that he wasn't going to let the virgin get away with one screwing.

He pulled out of me and walked down the table on his knees, pulling me with him, until we were both standing on the floor at the edge of the table, and then he bent me over, my chest on the table, my legs wide, and he folded himself over me as well and slowly entered me a second time. This time I felt some pain at the entry and let him know he was hurting me. He shushed me like one would do a fussy baby and just kept plowing up me. He said he wanted briefly to let me feel another type of fucking and that he knew I'd enjoy it. He squeezed my thighs with his, which tightened my canal around his cock and then he took me in long strokes, nearly all the way out, and then all the way back in. He did me for about fifteen minutes this way, and I was very vocal with this one, arching my back up to him and writhing my hips around. This is where I first experienced pain mixed so heavily with pleasure that I was yelling that he was hurting me and pleading with him to keep pumping me. He claimed to really like my reaction to that position—and chose to keep pumping me.

Then he turned me on his cock, while pushing on my back onto the massage table. He spread my legs, and, saying this was yet another style I might like, he gave me a mixed-routine fuck. He'd pump me from the front with fast shallow strokes for five minutes, then take the root of his cock in his hand and rotate it around inside me, hitting all the walls with that bent knob of his. Then back to the short, fast strokes. I did a good bit of grunting and moaning for him in this position—and wondering if it was going to ever stop—not at all sure I wanted it to. He went deep then for about three plunges and he had cum again.

We showered together and that's when he went down in front of me in the cascading water and sucked me off. He did it quickly that afternoon. In later sessions he showed me he could drive me wild with his tongue and mouth work on my cock.

After drying off, he took me to his bed, and after lubing up my hole and his cock, he fucked me again in a side split—me on my left side, he on his left side behind and under me, his left arm under and around me, with his palm fanned out over my belly, his right hand holding my right leg up in the air, and his cock stroking up into me from behind and below. During this, he started showing me that men could exchange sensual kisses. After he was done with me in that position, I was exhausted and slept in his arms for over an hour, with his cock up my (now throbbing and sore) ass.

So, it took me a hell of a long time to get around to any "firsts," but then my real first was a doozy.

The Egyptian gave me ointments and lubricants to cut down on the "getting used to it" pain, and a collection of ever-larger butt plugs—that didn't stretch the rim too much, but that stretched the first three or four inches inside, so that big cocks could get in and not do too much damage.

Good thing I had this preparation and the first encounter/training I had with the sensitive Egyptian, because about six weeks after that, I was trapped in a massage room at the gym by a Swede with a thick good eight incher and was taken roughly and in no uncertain terms and little choice in the matter (of course, it was all my fault as I had purposely given him a good look at me and acted a little provocatively in the shower room to check out my effect on other men). With the preparation the Egyptian "doctor" was giving me, I actually enjoyed the Swede.



Egyptian Massage



I was a student living in Nottingham, and broke. My grant cheque had evaporated in a haze of alcoholic merriment over a couple of weeks, probably less.

I'd got a job delivering pizzas, but the feeling that there should be some easier way of making money was always at the back of my mind. I was job hunting, but taking a sort of karmic approach, i.e. assuming that the perfect job, being out there, would find me when the time was right and bite me on the nose. This was the mood I was in one Sunday morning as I was drifting my eye over the classifieds.

Although I was half expecting something to leap out at me it came as a bit of a jolt when something actually did. The first thing was the word "semen", which leapt off the page, inappropriate amongst ads for bikes and washing machines. I rewound, scanned the area again, and found the ad. It was small, plain and simple. "semen donors required" The name Christine and a mobile number. Hmmm. . . .I admit I was totally intrigued and instantly a little horny but I wasn't going to do anything was I? Or was I? It was probably something at the Human Fertility Centre, a few students did it, but most of us just giggled self-consciously about it. I allowed myself about half an hour of delicious agony and a few false starts before finally picking up the phone, dialling the number with a leaden finger and allowing it time to ring. Each painfully acute stage of the process making my heart beat faster in my chest. Thinking back now, it was ridiculous, but I was in such a state that I could only really speak in squeaks when a woman answered.

"Hello, Christine here," smooth, re-assuring, scarily normal.

"Calling about the, urm, advert in the paper..." I squeaked.

"Ah! Fantastic!" Enthusiastic! Not scathing of my (surely obvious) pervy intentions. This was good! I was calming down "Look, I know this is a bit short notice, but could you make it over this afternoon, and we can discuss things?"

"No problem, I can do that sure!" My hand shook as I took down her address. My writing was barely legible squiggles. I cringed at my awkward thank-yous and good-byes and sighed with relief as I hung up the phone. My heart was still pounding and my head swam a little with muzzy dizziness, overloaded with undeniably delicious sexual energy. Hmmm...Christine!

My trip to Christine's neighbourhood took place in a dream-like state. I was eager to get there, and when I did I noticed that her house was on a cul-de-sac and looked completely normal. I rang the bell, and the door was opened by a woman who I judged to be about 40, but wore her years with sensual maturity. Her body was clothed in a pale kimono with dragon patterns chasing around her that deliciously hugged her curvaceous figure.

Christine had a smile of welcoming warmth which disarmed me and soothed my nerves. She thanked me for coming around so promptly and invited me in. We went through to a sitting room which was redolent with the warming smells of incense and where sounds were deadened by Chinese tapestries with rich golden thread work hanging on the walls. There was a screen in the corner of the room in black laquerwork that had images of bridges and pagodas inlaid gold. In the centre of the room there was one of those large animal skin rugs, which still have bits of the animal attached, which was laid out before an unlit fire.

Christine and I sat down on a sofa, and she explained to me that she was a masseur. She said that in addition to the normal variety of Shiatsu, Swedish and other types of massage, she practiced an ancient Egyptian form of massage which was reputedly favoured by Cleopatra herself. "In fact", she confided with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Cleopatra was said to have kept a cohort of the finest physical specimens from her praetorian guard maintained by virgin priestesses always on hand for precisely this purpose."

"What purpose?" I asked, I swallowed in a gulp, I was beginning to guess and everything was slowly beginning to make sense. 

Christine continued whilst looking directly into my eyes, as if looking for some sort of reaction, or indication that I was going to freak out. "This massage was named after the poisonous Asp snake," she said. "It involves the massaging of various herbal preparations into the skin." I nodded "The main difference with this massage however, is that the base used to dissolve the herbal products is", Christine said this without batting an eye, "human semen." The phrase hung in the air. I coughed a little and glanced across the room, feeling my heart rate rocket and my trousers become uncomfortably tight at the crotch. I shifted in my seat and looked back at Christine, who was smiling at my obvious discomfort. She went on apologetically, saying that animal substitutes had been tried, but lacked the texture and smell of human sperm. "You are the perfect donor" she said, because especially prized was the sperm from young men in their early 20s. "And you're about that age aren't you?

With this, she fixed her gaze on me. I was 22 and she smiled at the unmistakable signs of my inner turmoil. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and felt like my pupils must be hugely dilated. My gaze darted nervously from her deep brown eyes, to the little row of Buddas on her mantle piece and I could only nod wordlessly.

Christine continued a little more businesslike: "Would you consider being a provider? I will pay £10 each session. It has to be provided fresh for each session. What do you think?"

Gulping some air into my lungs, I felt a little faint. "Sure, sounds fine!" I said, and instantly turned bright red. What on earth had I let myself in for?

Christine smiled, and laid a reassuring hand on my knee, which was electric and made me jump. Surely she was not going to get it now?

"I actually have a client coming in about 30 minutes. I was just getting things ready for her. Do you want to stay for that? You can change if you like; there is a bathroom upstairs where you will find some things."

Standing in the shower, I turned the heat up and up as high as I could take it. I needed to get back inside my head. My skin was crawling with excitement and life, Steam surrounded me, and I let the water cascade down my nose, and into my mouth, to trickle from the edges. My hands were at my cock which had been raging within my trousers since I had got there, and was now enjoying a gentle squeeze and release from my attentive hands. Not yet though! Not yet! I grinned and actually giggled to myself as I thought of what was coming.

I stepped from the shower and dried myself off in front of a floor length mirror. I took a kimono similarly patterned with chasing dragons that had been hanging on the door, and tried to strap up my cock with the waist band so it didn't look too obscene, and made my way downstairs with trembling steps.

As I came through the door of the sitting room, I noticed that there was someone else sitting on the sofa. He was a young boy, and similarly dressed to me. Christine was lighting candles and subduing the lights, putting on some new age music. Looking around she smiled sweetly at me, "Please, take a seat," she gestured to the sofa and I sat next to the boy, who grinned sideways at me.

Presently, there was a knock at the door, and Christine ushered a petite young woman with a bouncy step and a sporty looking tracksuit into the room. They were talking, and I studied the client's profile, which was clear and sparkling, intense and exuding health. Her hair, cut in a bob, bounced as she went behind the screen in the corned of the room, apparently to remove her clothes.

The fire had been lit, and the room was warm. I sat in perfect contentment as orange fingers danced around wonderfully moulded branches, which were emitting a cherry smell. In my hyper-sensitised state, I could see within the flames hands caressing lithe thighs, bellies, necks, wrists.

The client came from behind the screen gloriously naked, and yet she held her body with ease and comfort as she stepped towards the rug before the fire. She had not acknowledged our presence since she arrived, but held her body and moved in a way that seemed directly intended to have a maximum impact on the two young men squirming on the sofa. Her firm and athletic beauty, the way she was put together, and moving. This was a body which had been tended with great love, and which was now going to be provided with the ultimate in the knowledge of the ancients. A recipe of Cleopatra herself, and we were going to be a part of this!

In the atmosphere of the room I could easily imagine Cleopatra, naked in her palace observing a line of muscular men standing naked, and erect, waiting to be milked by silent and devoted virgin priestesses. I sank back further into the sofa, observing Christine take up her position by the client's side. The client had lain on the rug and had her feet towards me. I had a wonderful view of her buttocks, which even now in repose she seemed to be energetically clenching and easing especially for my torment. Christine slipped her robe from her shoulders so it freed her arms and breasts for greater ease of movement, and bunched around her waist. Her back was to the cracking flames and for a moment she closed her eyes and sat in meditation, a tableau of pastel flesh illuminated by flickering firelight.

Then she stirred and took some dried leaves from a sandalwood box beside her. As she powdered these leaves between her palms, the lines of her muscles rippled along her forearms, and the dense black hair which cascaded over her shoulders caught the glow from behind. Having ground the herbs to a fine powder, she deposited them in the small of the client's back.

With an imperceptible nod of her head, she summoned the boy next to me to step over towards her. My friend stood up and, as if sleep-walking through the heady fumes of cherry, sandalwood and incense that pervaded the room, moved across to stand in front of Christine. She reached forward to the belt holding his kimono closed and tugged it open, and with an easy movement of the back of her hand, she brushed the wings aside to reveal a small but perfect bonsai erection in the firelight. The boy's cock made up everything it lacked in size with enthusiasm for its role. It seemed to be dancing up and down with every pulse of the boy's heart. It was as if it had a life of its own. The boy shrugged the kimono off his shoulders, and it slid down his back to reveal a terse torso. Christine gently reached forward to cup the boy's cock in her hand, with such delicacy as if she was picking up a wounded sparrow. At the same time she raised a questioning look to his face and the boy nodded. As he felt the first contact from her hand his eyes shot to the ceiling, and a light gasp escaped his lips. Immediately his hips started pushing his cock up and down the palm of Christine's hand.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to fall, sagging sideways as Christine's hand closed and began to slide back his foreskin with almost imperceptible movements, but she stabilised his hip with her free hand.

From my place on the sofa, I had a perfect view of what was going on, being seated just beyond the client's feet. My brain was almost blowing a fuse! I was seriously worried that even the gentle brushing of the kimono silk across the glans of my cock would be enough to make me cum. But looking, I could tell that the boy was way closer than I was!

Oh yes, his eyes were rolling. He took little gasps of breath and his hips were wobbling more and more. He really looked like he was going to collapse, but then a rigidity ran through his whole body as his hands suddenly reached forward and his fingers closer on handfuls of Christine's hair. I knew what was happening, and my own body shuddered in sympathy. This was the first time I had been able to see another man cum, and my eyes were usually closed when I did! It was amazing to see his teeth and eyes clench shut as white streams leaped up from his cock, gathering in the palm of Christine's hand, which waited at its tip.

As the final spasms wrenched through his body, the boy collapsed, all his weight coming down onto Christine's shoulders. She made a few final practised grips on his relaxing cock, to squeeze out the last of his cum. He was well and truly done!

Still naked, he staggered blindly back to the sofa, where he collapsed next to me, his eyes half closed and his hand cupped wistfully over a deflating cock.

Christine had carefully pooled the pearl liquid with the little pile of herbs in the small of the client's back, and then with practised and deft movements, she began scooping up the mixture and following invisible lines around the back. Then she covered broader areas, until the whole of the client's back was glistening in the firelight, and the room was thick with the smell of exotic herbs and cum.

Watching her work made me realise what a master she truly was. No move was wasted; the strength in her fingers was beyond doubt, as the toned flesh of the client moved like foam rubber beneath them. She was using some force to get to the deep tissue, and the client was emitting groans, both voluntary and involuntary. Time passed, and soon every inch of the clients back and thighs and arms had been explored. Satisfied with her thorough job, Christine tapped the client's back to indicate that she should turn over. I had drifted off a little, and was suddenly hit by a surge of' panicky excitement. I knew that my turn had come.

Christine turned to me, smiled and nodded. As if in slow motion I stood from the sofa, vaguely feeling a pat of encouragement from my friend behind me. In two movements, I loosened my belt and then shrugged my kimono over my shoulders, letting the dragons chase each other down my sides to lie in a pool around my feet. My body felt good, terse, strong, and alive. My awareness was focused on my cock; I felt was like the centre of gravity in that close room. It was proud and fully erect-- moist and almost bursting out of its skin. I stepped forward and turned to present my proud member to face Christine across the belly of the client. She'd already prepared a little pile of herbs on the client's unbelievably flat belly.

Christine took it all in and my cock, alive to her attentions, quivered in response. She looked up to me, "Do you want me to. . . .?" Christine asked, but I smiled and shook my head. No, I would do this myself, and it would be a pleasure. So Christine sat back on her haunches, and waited for me to prepare the harvest. My eyes lost focus in the guttering fire, as I delayed the moment to savour the anticipation. I raised my hands to my chest, and began sliding them down slowly over the muscles of my belly, tilting my hips backwards so my cock angled higher. My fingers slid into my pubic hair and found the base of my glistening ridged cock that stood shaking with anticipation.

My right hand snaked along the shaft to the tip where a large crystal drop of pre-cum was waiting, that I smoothed around my glans with my thumb. I clenched the shaft, and pulled firmly back to allow the glans to fully burst moistly from my foreskin. I had begun a movement that had only one destination.

I looked down to see my cock nestled between the fingers of my right hand, my left pushing down on my thigh; beyond that, the belly of the client, her eyes half open, lazily taking in the scene above her with a sly smile playing on her lips; Christine's eyes were lost in the dance my hands had begun, but her own fingers had slipped close to her own black pussy nestled within her kimono; from the corner of my eye I could also see the boy on the sofa, masturbating lazily; the fire fizzing quietly, like my head.

My hand speeded a little, and I slouched down into my hips, riding my hand as it sunk upwards into my crotch again and again. Blurrily I saw the client lift her hand from the animal skin and watched as it crept across her thigh, seeking out her own pleasure. Christine becoming a little more obvious with her hand movements, she cleared away the kimono from her waist and stretched one leg out to the side to create more space for her to slide her fingers inside. My head span, the client cried little cries that made me want to comfort her by being inside her, I wanted to lay Christine gently down beside her, to take one then the other, to take them both, to ride the client with Christine at my back, her pussy against me. I took myself a little faster, and felt a fire building within me, the sight of Christine's mouth slackened and moist, she slips sideways and comes to rest comfortably on her hand, permitting her to spread her legs even more, wantonly revealing her pussy to me and the boy on the sofa. The client's whispering hair stranding across her face as her head rocks from side to side, now her hips are bucking up off the rug and into her own fingers, as if her pussy is trying to reach the cock suspended in space above her.

I feel cum rise at the base of my cock. "Christine!" I whisper urgently, and her eyes focus on me, a little drunken. "Not long now!" She comes back to some level of awareness and sits up, taking leave of her own pleasuring for a while. She cups both hands before my engorged cock, as I let some deep yearning groans escape. I can see that she's too close so I lean forwards and try and aim my upthrust cock down to her palms, but not enough! With a rushing in my ears and an exultation on my lips my cock bucks and flings forth cum which flies beyond her hands, and slaps into her auburn body, leaving a milky way spattered from her breasts to her throat. More builds and I keep pumping several more times as the pearly streams of cum leap forth from the eye of my cock, and this time they catch her hands, where she is building up a good pool. The client starts to circle her finger frantically on her clit, whilst her other hands pumps deep into her cunt. There is no way that the massage can continue until she is through! Christine and I relax onto our haunches and wait until the woman between us reaches her ecstasy.

I took myself back to the sofa, and Christine went on to smooth my cum into the gorgeous body of the client. She had cum, and resumed her pose of inanimacy as if nothing had ever happened.

When the massage was over, the client left with only a discreet smile on her face to let on that anything untoward had happened. Christine saw her and the boy off, and as soon as the door had clicked shut, she came back into the sitting room with what that mischievous smile on her face again. She came towards me wagging her finger at me and scolding me in a low voice "You came all over me. You are very, very, very bad..." I raised my hands in the air, protesting my innocence. She stole in and caught the end of the belt holding closed my kimono giving it a gentle tug so that its sides fell open. "Well you are seriously going to have to make that one up to me," she purred as she nestled into my chest.

It was probably at around that point that I became convinced that Egyptian Massage Worker was to be my true calling!

Enjoy the story. . .and if you'd like to take part in some pseudo-scientific research, tell me what was your 'cum point' in this story was for you (the bit you went back to. . . or the bit where you just couldn't take it any more!), and tell me too, if you are male or female (you'll be contributing to the sum of human knowledge!).



Egyptian MILF for Black Men



The most sacred titles any woman can hold in this life are wife and mother, I thought as I proudly watched my daughter Catherine stand in front of a podium and deliver her valedictory speech to the hundreds of graduates at the convocation of the Sprott Business School of Carleton University. It's a bright Sunday afternoon and the City of Ottawa, Ontario, is basking in unusually warm weather. Sitting next to me, my husband Gerald Saintil squeezed my hand gently and I smiled at him. It's going to be fine, he reassures me. Our son Gino looks on and rolls his eyes. I nod, but I can't help worrying. I'm a mother. It's what we do.

The young woman standing on the podium in her dark crimson gown is the fruit of our labor. A beautiful but unlikely blend of Haitian, Hispanic and Egyptian, that's our sweetie. From her father she got her height, and frizzy hair. She's got my gray eyes and though her skin is caramel rather than bronze like mine, people always realize we're mother and daughter when we're out together. The resemblance between us is uncanny, even though at five-foot-eight I look tiny next to my tall daughter, who played basketball and rugby at the varsity level throughout high school and university. 

I look around at the crowd of parents, friends, supporters and well-wishers, smiling without quite knowing why. An older Asian lady wipes her eyes with a handkerchief, and I nod at her gently. Graduation ceremonies are always an emotional affair for the whole family. My daughter is twenty three years old and already has her MBA. How cool is that? I am practically gushing with pride as I listen to her speech. Pay attention, I remind my son Gino, and he reluctantly pries his gaze from his cell phone and stares blankly at me. 

Your sister is graduating, I remind him sternly. Gino nods and sighs. There's a vacant look in his eyes as he stares ahead like a zombie. He's six-foot-one, caramel-skinned, way-haired and green-eyed, and looks somewhat older than his twenty one years. My son is bright and handsome, and honestly, the sky's the limit when it comes to his potential. Unfortunately he's a bit of an underachiever. He's changed his major three times already at the University of Ottawa. For the past few years he's been studying ecology. Hope there's a career in that for him. Catherine thanks her school, professors and classmates and exhorts them to boldly meet life's challenges while having some fun along the way. All around us, the crowd nods along, since her speech is standard graduation fare.

When she's done, Catherine twirls her cap in her hand, tosses it into the air and jumps up to catch it before bowing and stepping off the podium, to thunderous applause. She gets her sense of humor from her dad, that's for sure. I exchange a knowing look with Gerald, and he smiles sheepishly. Like father like daughter, I say with a wry grin. We stand up and clap for Catherine as she makes her way back to her seat. She exchanges high-fives with a tall dark-skinned young woman with braids, her lifelong best friend Jacqueline Bouvier, the gal next door. Not best friend, girlfriend, I correct myself mentally. Three weeks ago, Catherine dropped a bomb on her father and me when she revealed to us that she's a lesbian, and her gal pal Jacqueline is more than just a friend. We were kind of taken by surprise, to tell you the truth.

Catherine is six feet tall, lovely and very feminine, and in the past she dated guys. I still remember how she looked in her prom dress. She went to prom with a charming Lebanese Christian lad, Samuel Khalid. While an undergrad at Carleton University, she introduced us to two guys she'd dated. I have a hard time imagining my daughter forsaking relationships with men and leading a lesbian lifestyle. Initially I was taken aback but Gerald warned me that we had to respect Catherine's choices or risk losing her. 

If she ever changes her mind we'll be the first to know, Gerald told me confidently. Although I was all smiles and supportive hugs with Catherine, inside I felt torn. This wasn't the life I had in mind for my daughter. Even though same-sex marriage has been legal in Canada for a while, crimes against gay people persist. Last week I read something in the Ottawa Sun newspaper about a bisexual man shot to death by his gay lover when the spurned guy found out he had a wife and daughter stashed away in the suburbs. A bizarre love triangle that turned deadly, it would seem.

I just don't want by baby to suffer any pain or discrimination, I told Gerald at the end of our discussion about Catherine's shocking revelation of her sexual orientation. We raised her strong, Gerald told me, hugging me tightly and reassuring me that everything would be alright, as he always did. I am always thankful for his strength, his ability to be optimistic in the face of adversity and uncertainty. Gerald has the ability to see the silver lining on even the darkest of circumstances. It's just part of who he is. My darling hubby. He is and always will be my rock. I can always count on him, I've known this for twenty five years now.

It's on this very campus that Gerald and I met, twenty five years ago. Oh, snap. Silly me, I almost forgot to introduce myself. Forgive me. As you can imagine, today is a very emotional day for me. My name is Marianne Zaghloul and I was born in the City of Abu Kabir, Egypt, to a Coptic Christian family. I lived in Egypt for the first half of my life. In 1987, at the age of eighteen, I moved with my parents, Elias and Odessa Zaghloul to the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Tensions between the Muslim majority and the Coptic Christian minority were on the verge of exploding. My parents feared that the Muslims would once more declare war on Arab Christians. Given that the Lebanese Christians were fighting a war against the Lebanese Muslims and their Syrian allies in Lebanon, we couldn't go over there. So we opted for Canada, the one place on Earth that will always be dear to the hearts of refugees. Fortunately, they accepted our refugee claim. 

In September 1988, I enrolled at Carleton University to study accounting. I've always had a head for numbers. While walking around the campus library I met the man destined to be my lover, my husband, my other half and my soul mate. A twenty-year-old Haitian immigrant named Gerald Saintil, whose parents sent him to live in Ottawa after he'd gotten in trouble with some roughnecks in Montreal. In hindsight, it's extremely unlikely that we even met. If it weren't for the Muslim/Christian clash in Egypt, my family and I never would have left, for we loved our country. If it weren't for Gerald's immaturity, he never would have come to Carleton for higher education. Not when there are so many schools in Montreal where he grew up.

Gerald intended to study at McGill University but he flunked out of Canada's most prestigious school due to his constant partying, drinking and womanizing. I was the shy bookworm whom he gravitated to. To say that we came from different worlds would be an understatement. Gerald was born on the island of Haiti to a Haitian mother and Hispanic father. His parents, Leonardo Valdez and Geraldine Saintil moved to Montreal, Quebec, when he was younger. Six-foot-three, with light brown skin, curly Black hair and light brown eyes, he was handsome, brawny and fearless. 

This womanizer was used to having his way with women and he set his sights on me. Little did he know that I'm the woman destined to tame his wild ways. From the onset when he began flirting with me at school, I made it clear to him that I wasn't like his other hoochies. I'm an Arab woman. No man may approach me unless he's confident, and with serious intention. Trust me on that one. One thing all Arabs have in common, whether we're Christian, Muslim, Druze or whatever, we're protective of our women. Even though Egyptian Christian families are far more liberal than their Muslim counterparts, I couldn't leave the house wearing a short skirt or drink alcohol like the other girls I befriended at school. My parents would kill me if I did. I dressed in jeans and tight but long-sleeved T-shirts mostly, often wearing hats or tying my hair in a bun when I left the house. My way of looking hot without crossing the line into whorish. 

Since he wasn't the type to be easily discouraged, Gerald pursued me doggedly. He practically begged me to have coffee with him, or go to the movies. Finally I relented. I agreed to go see a movie with him, provided he behave. We saw Coming To America the same week it came out, and this marked the beginning of two things, my fascination with all things African-American and comedic, and my romance with Gerald. After the movie, we walked all over Ottawa together, and grabbed a bite at a nice little Italian bistro in the south end. During dinner, Gerald sang to me, unafraid to embarrass himself in front of the assembled patrons, who found it charming, as did I. At the end of our date, I went home with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. This lad was something else!

That's how it all began. Our road together wouldn't always be this smooth, of course. Gerald and I come from different worlds, as I said before. He's Afro-Caribbean and I'm Egyptian. He's a Roman Catholic and I was brought up in the Coptic Orthodox Church of Alexandria. I wear a stylized Coptic cross everywhere I go, the one Gerald had resembled something a rapper would wear. It kind of looked like bling, rather than a religious symbol. Yeah, we were very different. And don't even get me started on our parents. 

My parents are conservative to the point of being uptight, and Gerald's parents were way too liberal. They let him smoke, date and drive when he was still in high school! And don't even get me started on the fact that he's of partial African descent on his mother's side. My parents initially had a problem with it. In the Arab world, a lot of the men marry women of other races but it's a rare Arab family that will let their daughters marry non-Arabs. For an Arab woman to marry a Black man is practically unheard of. There's a lot of racism in the great Arab community, it's one of our dirtiest secrets.

Gerald and I had to take a stand against racism for the sake of our love for each other. It wasn't easy. My parents threatened me with violence when I refused to abandon Gerald. I moved out of our house in Orleans and into a small apartment in Vanier with Gerald. I got a job at a coffee shop downtown to help pay for rent. Thankfully, I had qualified for the Ontario province's student financial aid program as soon as I became a permanent resident of Canada. 

I stayed in school, and in spite of everything else I had going on, I excelled at my accounting courses. I graduated from Carleton with my bachelor's degree in accounting three years later, and Gerald got his criminal justice degree from Carleton University before joining the Ontario Provincial Police. Gerald and I forged ahead in those heady, dark days, and our love grew stronger. We got married in 1990. Our daughter Catherine came into the world that year, followed by her brother Gino a couple of years later. In time, my parents came around and nowadays, they fawn over Catherine and Gino like all grandparents should.

I am pulled out of my reverie by Gino, who tugs at my arm. I look up, and realize that the ceremony is concluding. People are starting to get up, the grads are hugging their parents, and each other. Catherine makes her way toward us, flanked by Jacqueline, whose parents, Raymond and Jessica Bouvier are nearby. I hug Catherine fiercely, and look into her eyes. I love you, I tell my daughter with tears in my eyes. Catherine hugs me, then hugs Gerald and Gino. Her girlfriend Jacqueline is nearby, hugging her parents. I wonder if they're taking the news as well as we are. Apparently so, for Raymond, Jacqueline's father, asks us to take a picture together. I look at Gerald, who smiles and shrugs. Both families are all smiles as we take the picture, then we exchange pleasantries for a bit before going our separate ways.

We're in the car, driving back to our house in Barrhaven and Catherine can't stop talking about her future plans. I want to work in the States, she says. Although I flash her an encouraging smile, inside I shudder. I don't want my daughter to move so far away. There are plenty of jobs in Ottawa, Edmonton, Toronto, Montreal, Calgary, Vancouver, Quebec City and Halifax. Catherine is beautiful, educated and fluent in both French and English. She should have no problem finding work anywhere in Canada. As Gerald offers Catherine some words of wisdom concerning her future plans, a shout from Gino catches us all by surprise. The car grinds to a halt on the 417 highway. Luckily there were no cars near us, traffic is pretty much dead on a Sunday afternoon.

Gerald asks Gino what his problem is as Catherine looks on. I look at Gino in the rear view mirror. There's an expression on my son's face I'll never forget. I'm leaving Ottawa for Calgary next month, Gino says. The look of shock on Gerald and Catherine's faces pretty much mirrors the one on my own, that's for sure. Gino shakes his head as Gerald asks him to reconsider what he's doing. In a bold voice, he asks us to let him speak. At this point, he's got our undivided attention. Well, everyone except mine's, since I'm driving and all. Still, I'm all ears. Why is he behaving this way?

Gino takes a deep breath, then continues. In a loud, clear voice, he tells us that he's always wanted out of Ottawa, and out of our family because he's always played second fiddle to Catherine. When he says that, Catherine gently touches his shoulder and shakes her head. Gino shrinks from her, then once more intones his resolve. I want to work in the oil and gas industry, he says passionately. I listen attentively, dismayed by what I'm hearing. Without telling anyone, Gino has been talking to a corporation in Calgary. I've got enough credits from Ottawa University for my bachelor's degree in ecology so I'll be fine, Gino says flatly. I can see tears in his eyes and my heart winces. In the passenger's seat, Gerald shakes his head. I briefly take my eyes off the road and tell my son that I respect his decision. I don't know who was more shocked, Gino or myself. 

As we pull into the driveway, we are greeted by Gerald's parents, my folks and some friends of the family. There are balloons all over the front lawn, and we are greeted joyfully by my father, Grandpa Elias, and the family dog, a lovely Black and White mutt named Dakota. We hurry inside, and everyone is ready to chant happy graduation when Catherine silences them. This day isn't just about me it's also about my brother who is my biggest supporter, she says. Gently, Catherine links her arm with Gino's, who is clearly surprised. As Gerald and I and everyone else looked on, Catherine thanks her brother for being the first person to offer her unconditional support when she came out as a lesbian, and when she nearly flunked her last class. Brother and sister share a hug, and the whole family cheers. 

I make my way to my son and daughter, and hug them both. I look into my son's eyes, and he is crying tears of joy, as am I. Gino's the only son I'll ever have and I've never truly understood him. He's always been different from his father, his sister and me. While we're academically driven intellectuals, he's a more laidback kind of guy. He loves his comic books, and has a passion for political activism and the environment. He joined OPIRG as soon as he enrolled in university. He is who he is. Just because he's our son doesn't make him a Xerox copy of Gerald and me. Our son is his own man.

I realize now that Gerald and I have been pushing Gino this way and that because we felt we knew what was best for him. Clearly we were wrong. It's his life, and he's got to follow his own path. All I can do as his mother is love and support him. I'm behind you one hundred percent, I say as I kiss him on the cheek. Gino grins. Gerald joins us, and rubs Gino's head, before putting a fedora on it. What is that for? Gino asks, grinning. For Calgary, Gerald says to his smiling son, before leading us to the dining room table where a sumptuous feast of Egyptian and Haitian dishes await. After this memorable, emotional day, we're all famished. Time to celebrate our changing times and the new beginnings they bring, for all of us.



Egyptian Moon



1. Egypt, Ages Past

When the Pharaoh's ruled Egypt, Ana Neba Keru was born and raised as the virgin daughter, schooled to be a priestess of Bast. She couldn't really remember the first time she had felt the stirrings between her legs and the excitement of self-fulfillment, but at the age of thirteen she began the practice of leaning naked in her palace window and masturbating under the stars. It was a great escape from her wrathful, hateful father.

When the moon beamed full down upon her youthful body upon her eighteenth birthday, she prayed to Bast and asked her to send her a great prince that would show her the pleasures that she yearned in heat every night, laying in her grand window.

Several miles away a man was born from the sand. He didn't know what he was or why he was there, but he knew he desired something that only the city would bring him. As if to give himself life, he named himself Tet-Ba.

* * *

2. Cairo, Today

He picked the young lady up when at the bar, feeling horny and needy. While his strange ailment stopped him from enjoying the pleasures fully, he tried with all his might in pleasuring the women that he found. This one was an exotic beauty, possibly from the Mideast, but she spoke English well.

Back at his apartment, they began to touch lips, tongues and to feel each other's bodies. He slid his hands over her small back and tight ass, squeezing and sinking his mouth into her neck. The girl moaned and begged for more. He took off her clothes, one by one, and massaged her ample breasts, stroking her stomach to her pubic thatch. She smiled and rolled her head and he pushed his fingers through her wet slit of flesh.

"That's it. Don't be shy. Feel my pussy," she said. He stroked and tugged gently on her lips and inserted a finger inside her slightly to get it nice and wet. Then he circled her hardening clit and she moaned, grabbing him and they fell on his bed. He rolled her over and began to kiss and lick down her neck, over her rising nipples and down her sweet stomach to bury his face between her thighs. Her hands went to his head and she writhed as he began to lick slowly around her pussy lips and hard nub. As her moans increased, he applied more pressure with his tongue, lapping more frantically and inserted a finger into her warm, tightening hole.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "That's it. Eat my fucking pussy. Eat it. Eat it!"

Her undulations became heavier with bucking motions as she tried to grind her hot, fleshy vulva into his mouth and chin. He felt his soaking chin drip with her sweetness as she moaned and screamed out, her buttocks dropping onto the bed with resounding relief.

"You're a fucking god," she said. "But now it's your turn."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I really can't. But thanks for letting me give you some pleasure."

"Well, honey?" she said. She aimed for his package and she could feel his penis, but then she pulled her hand away. "Oh my god, it's you!"

"I-I'm sorry. I just thought that—" He looked away, ashamed.

The girl wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He could hear her heart beating, slowing from it's athletic romp.

"No, no. It's okay. I understand. Were you born like that?" she said.

"Yes, but I can still get excited. I just can't do anything about it," he said.

There was no pity, just sympathy from her. He caught her glimpsing at his daily paper, which had a large headline: NEW MUMMY EXHIBIT OPENS TODAY. Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said: "I have a story to tell you. You might not believe it at first, but you must listen. I know about your condition and I've been looking all over the world for you and for a very long time."

"How long?" he said.

"It's easier to explain," she said and then she began to tell him a story that sounded immediately true. He couldn't believe his ears, but listened as she grabbed her large purse and began to open it. He found out later what she had inside and it was to save him from his a curse...

* * *

3. Egypt, Ages Past

As Tet-Ba wandered the desert, in search of his city and the One Reason why he had come, he noticed that there was something between his legs. A hose of sorts, accompanied by two sacks that rose once and awhile beneath it. He fondled it absently, realizing that it could bring him pleasure. He stroked it until it grew, expanding and lengthening. His sacks would rise to become harder balls and they tingled with much delight. Tet-Ba knew that it was special, but he didn't exactly know what. These sacks held a formula that he was meant for...someone. But who?

After many more days of traveling, he began to realize what he had, or was it some type of remembrance of what it was all about? Either way, he knew that he carried an immortal elixir for someone special. It was so that the two of them could live in the Eternal Bliss together. But how was he going to find this person? How was he going to fulfill what Ra had sent him to deliver?

Contemplating, he finally came across a city in Northern Egypt. Their eunuch guards descended upon him, took him to their prison, clothed and fed him. But he was not a guest. He was a prisoner and he wondered what Ra had in store for him.

Then that night he had a dream, an omen. It gave him what he needed.

* * *

4.

Eunuch guards presented the Desert Traveler to the Pharaoh, bringing him into the royal court. Several harem ladies and eunuchs stood to the side, watching to see what happened. The ladies saw him and gasped. Several of them shuddered and moaned as if in ecstasy, which disturbed the Pharaoh much. The Pharaoh looked the Desert Traveler over, disgruntled. So, here he was, supposedly: the One Promised of Ra. Tet-Ba.

"How can I believe you?" the Pharaoh asked.

The Desert Traveler said: "You will know when the Egyptian Moon becomes blood red. It will stay thus until I have found the One for whom I am searching."

"Then we will see, won't we?" said the Pharaoh. To the guards he said: "Lock him up. If what he says is true we will perform the appropriate arrangements to get Tet-Ba what he asks."

Once the Desert Traveler was gone, the Pharaoh turned to his consorts.

"What do you think?"

The consorts shook their heads, but one. The consort, older and wiser than the Pharaoh, said: "Ra would never make Tet-Ba a commoner."

The Pharaoh, of course, agreed.

* * *

5.

Sashet-Meru was one of the ladies who shuddered when she saw the Desert Traveler brought in. Not only was he a beautiful stud of a man, but he brought with him a resonance that went straight between her legs. Right there, right in the courtroom, Sashet-Meru felt her pussy twist and climax in pleasure, just by sighting the man alone. Horny and delirious with lust, she knew that she had to have this man.

When preparing Ana Neba Keru for bed that night, she explained what had happened and Ana's eyes were bright with shock and jealousy.

"If only I had been there," she said.

"I think I'm going to visit him tonight," Sashet-Meru said, grinning. "I have to, at least, see him one more time."

Ana Neba Keru nodded, smiling back at her servant and friend. "Be careful. It's not good to wander the palace so late at night."

Sashet-Meru knew that to be true, but the danger seemed mild to having the man that she desired so much. Just once. It would feel like being close to the gods and to be in the Eternal Bliss.

"I will," she told Ana. "If it gets too dangerous, I will find my room quickly and without further stall."

* * *

6.

Later that night, Sashet-Meru crept through the halls to find her way to the cells on the east side of the temple. On her way, she heard voices and ducked behind a statue of Osiris. As the men drew closer, she noticed the voices were that of the Pharaoh and his most valued consort.

"The moon turned blood this night," the consort said.

"I have seen. What am I going to do if the moon persists red?" the Pharaoh said.

Sashet-Meru knew that if she was caught overhearing their conversation, the Pharaoh might have her assassinated behind his back. She wanted to slip away, but there was no where to run without getting caught.

"Only a few in the court know of Tet-Ba and his demands. We tell everyone that he is a fake, that he's using powers from a dark god. We make him a slave by the temple priests and then he is ancient history," the consort said. "We should not fear him."

"But what if he is Tet-Ba?"

"We cannot let a commoner destroy the blood and our power," the consort said. "Besides, truth of his connection with Ra is sketchy at best."

They moved on, carrying on their topic of this man-god's demise and Sashet-Meru sighed in relief. She quickly made her way through the tunnels that led her to the prison court, where cages were set up to hold prisoners. Tet-Ba was in a cage alone, sleeping. She looked over the well-muscled man, his unnaturally smooth skin and wondered what it would be like to have him leaning over her, thrusting and moaning.

"Psst," she said. "Tet-Ba! Wake up!"

Tet-Ba stirred and saw her. He rose, not taking his eyes off her. Nor did she look away from him. The pleasure of seeing him went straight to her pussy, tingling and heating. She could do nothing but to rub herself in front of him and desiring his touch.

"You give my pussy such vitality," she said.

"You are not the One Reason," he said.

"No, but you like watching me, don't you? I can see it getting so hard."

He couldn't deny it. The cloak that hid his sex was giving to the erection between his legs. She wanted to see it, feel it, smell it's musky power. In the legends it was said that Tet-Ba would come to take a bride and the two would be immortal through his seed. That's what the Pharaoh was really afraid of—the loss of his empire to one such as he.

"Let me just watch you cum. Make yourself cum for me," she said.

As Tet-Ba pulled out his heavy pole, she imagined men, their throbbing dicks slick with pre-cum, hands frantically moving up and down their stiff poles. She imagined them grunting and moaning as hot cum squirts out of their cocks, imagining them with their eyes closed, thinking of her as they get off. Tet-Ba, meanwhile, began to run his own hand up and down his dick, tugging at his own balls.

She watched him, imagining guys doing all of these things, and felt her pussy begin to throb with longing. Her undergarments sticks to it, damp with her hot juices and she puts her fingers under her dress and rubs her nipples, those tight buds already beginning to harden.

She squirms around, determined not to touch herself until she can't stand it anymore. Seshet-Meru rubs her slick labia and can feel her clit desperately waiting for release. Tet-Ba's hand begins to move more frantic over his cock.

She puts a hand down her pants, over her undergarment. She tickles her sensitive clit through the light cotton fabric, breathing heavily. The heat from her pussy comes right through and she begins to rub faster, her deft fingertip moving hard against her eager clit. 

When Tet-Ba's hard cock starts dripping pre-cum, trickling like a small, light stream, she almost moans out loud. She wishes she could grab his cock, suck it's meaty fullness into her mouth, shooting into his mouth or on her firm tits, which is one of her favorite things to do with her lover. She wanted to rub his cum all over her body, onto her clit. 

She is so excited that she feels lightheaded and she removes her undergarments, gasping as her finger finally makes full contact with her throbbing, aching clit. She's so wet that her finger keeps sliding around, and every time she thinks she's going to cum, her finger slips on the cunt juice and she prolongs the pleasure even more. Tet-Ba began to moan heavily, rubbing his bulging dick, which looked as though it ached with the same need to blow. Her finger was moving so fast against her clit that her hand began to hurt and she wants to stop but it feels so good and she's almost there and in her mind she pictures taking handfuls of hot cum from Tet-Ba's pulsing member and pouring them over her drenched pussy. 

She drops to her knees, needing it, begging Tet-Ba to unload himself on her. He looses himself and ejaculates his load all over her tits and she imagines massaging his cum into her hot cunt with her hands and now it's approaching and she wants to stop again to make it last longer but she can't. As Tet-Ba gasps to catch his breath, she's so close her legs begin to go numb and her entire body shakes and the waves of orgasm overcome her again and again as she grunts and moans, her eyes half-closed and her fingers beating her clit and... she's cumming so fucking hard.

Finished and inhaling each breath deeply, she puts a finger in her mouth to taste him and she tastes his salty gift and tells him that she wished she could have him.

"No, I can't. You're not the One Reason," he said again.

"Where did you come from?" she said.

"The desert. I was born in the sand to a lady's request," he said.

With that, Sashet-Meru's eyes opened wide as realization came to her. Being Ana's most dedicated servant since childhood, they were almost more than friends. Ana had confided in her about her Great Wish to Ra. Could she be his One Reason?

"Would you know your One Reason if you saw her?" she said.

Tet-Ba nodded, saying: "Once I see her I will know at once. I was born to lover her and only her."

"I think I know who you are looking for. I will go to her at once and let her know," she said. With that, she dashed away, but when she got to Ana's room, she noticed her father was talking to her. It was late (strange...) After a moment of thinking, she decided that she'd tell her in the morning. Then she went to bed.

* * *

7.

Ana Neba Keru slept late and she was not allowed in, but when she was called upon Sashet-Meru went to Ana to tell her what she thought. Ana shook her head in disbelief, but Sashet-Meru persisted—she was sure that Tet-Ba's One Reason was to fulfill her wish and desire.

"He comes with the immortal seed," she told her princess.

"If that's true, father would never allow for such a thing," Ana said.

Sashet-Meru added what she heard her father talking about the night before. She was sure that Tet-Ba would be destroyed. "But, I believe he will bring a new dawn. Ask yourself as a priestess: Should you blaspheme the desires of Ra for the sake of your father's fears?"

And Ana nodded, saying: "You're right. It is my duty to save him and begin the new dynasty. That is the Way of Ra."

So they made a plan to rescue him that night. They might be killed, but at least it would be doing the Will of Ra.

When night came, the moon was full and red. The two girls snuck through the halls, following the same path Sashet-Meru had used the night before. But when they got there, the prison was unlocked and Tet-Ba was missing.

"They took him to the temple...!" Ana said. They ran to the temple as fast as they could, but under the eyes of Bast, Tet-Ba was screaming. Priests were holding him down on an altar and the Pharaoh watched from a corner. The girls hid themselves, fearing wrath, watching as a Priest withdrew a knife and began to cut Tet-Ba's testicles from his body. Tet-Ba screamed, blood darted around, but another Priest quickly cauterized him with a hot poker.

The girls cried in the corner as they watched Tet-Ba's testicles being placed in an canopic jar and sealed in the name of Set (who had taken Osiris apart, even the god's testicles, in wrath for sleeping with his wife). Once sealed, a Priest took the canopic jar away and the other Priests bound him in chains. The Pharaoh drew near the new eunuch and said to the priests: "Now put him to labor for one of my affiliates."

* * *

8. Cairo, Today

Memory is an odd thing. At first there's nothing, but when certain facts begin to trigger, it's as though the memory had always been vivid. This is what it was like for the man who laid naked with the woman who had just told him her story—this man, Tet-Ba.

"I am Sashet-Meru," she said. "And I have found the canopic jar that the priests used to house your fertility. Your seed made me immortal and I used the immortality to live beyond those who remembered you. Then I stole the jar, tried to take it to you, but I heard of your death by an assassin. Without your fertility, you were only mortal and could die. But I knew that your Ka would not move on until your One Reason was restored to you."

She handed him the jar, adding: "From death, life."

Tet-Ba, reincarnated, took the jar and withdrew the fertile Dust within. He poured it between his legs. His flaccid penis began to rise and the smooth perineum beneath began to expand and develop into risen, smooth and flushed pair of balls. At once he could feel his power return and a great wave of heated desire broke through him. His balls ached to cum, but he was happy to be reborn yet again.

"You will also need some of the power that I have taken over the centuries. I give you these powers to retrieve your One Reason," Sashet-Meru said. She laid a hand on him and he could feel what she had given to him, knowing what they were. "They'll only last this night, so be quick."

Meanwhile, Sashet-Meru went over to the paper, with the headline: NEW MUMMY EXHIBIT OPENS TODAY. She handed it to him, saying: "Now I will take my leave. Hopefully I will die soon, my purpose fulfilled. You'll find your One Reason here."

Tet-Ba looked at it and saw that the mummy they uncovered two years ago was called Ana Neba Keru, a Priestess of the Order of Bast. It was her: the One Reason. And he couldn't wait. Tet-Ba grabbed his coat and took off.

With Sashet-Meru's magic, he cloaked himself in the air. Invisible, he passed through the walls and made the cameras go snowy and full of static. At her crypt, he called upon Ra to revive her. He watched as her flesh remade itself. After calling her name over and over again, she was awake and looking at him with utter disbelief.

His One Reason was love. A love beyond the mortal coil, a part of the very fabric of the universe. Using the same techniques he used to get in, he got out with Ana and he took her back to his apartment, still wrapped in her bandages. He threw his coat over her for warmth and, hopefully, to stay people's awareness of her strange costume.

Once back at his apartment he kissed her and she took it with a passion that he realized she had never felt before. He knew that she had died a virgin of Bast—she smelled of it. And he drew in that smell like it was the softest, sweetest odor that could ever be made by any god.

* * *

9.

When Ana Neba Keru woke up, she heard her name being said over and over again and it was the greatest sound she ever heard. She knew at once who was conjuring her and she was filled with relief and gratitude like nothing else. Opening her eyes and seeing him brought a heat that she knew she would feel forever.

In his apartment, sitting on his bed, she was still looking at him, completely enraptured with awe.

"My One Wish..." she said.

"My One Reason..." he said and they kissed again.

Tet-Ba slowly unwrapped her from the mummy bandages. First, her head. There was a wonderful realization of her beauty: partially burnt colored, dark black hair and emerald eyes. The further he went, the more of her that he saw. She didn't mind that he exposed her breasts, pert and hard, her flat stomach, her well-rounded hips, ass, legs... Finally she was standing before him, nude and his eyes bathed her with his titillation.

"You're beautiful," he told her.

Ana began to help him with his shirt, pulling down his slacks to expose his manhood. When it popped out and started rising, she happily took it to feel it's soft eagerness. She looked up at him, grinning and said: "I've been waiting for this forever."




Egyptian Moon Redux







Egyptian Moon Redux



"Then how did you survive?"

"I tasted his seed when he came on my breasts," Nephie said. "That is why I am still alive."

"When?"

"Right after he'd done it. It was even before I knew about the eternal life that welled in his balls."

Nephie leaned over, opened her bag and pulled out the amphora. She handed it to Neth who looked perplexed.

"This is it?"

Nephie nodded sadly.

"Sashet Meru. Why would you give me her true name?" Neth said wondering.

"With her Sekhet you can either destroy her or bring her back from the dead."

Neth pulled the cover aside and felt his sexless groin. He opened the amphora and placed his hand inside, feeling only ashes. He grabbed a handful and sprinkled it between his legs. Suddenly, skin protruded and swelled into three masses. One lengthened as the other two softened and bulged. Neth finally had it back.

Then he climbed out of bed and ran to the table where he had thrown the paper that Nephie had shown him. Ana Neba Kheru's tomb had just been found and her mummy was being sent to a museum in Chicago.

"I've got to go to her," he said.

Nephie laughed, watching his sex dangle, longing for it still. Neth squeezed it for her happily.

"We'll never forget you."

"I know."

Neth dressed and was out the door. Nephie saddened by the loss of him, yet again slowly began to finger her warm pussy. She still felt a little happy and horny. Maybe having him forever was just a fantasy, but it was a fantasy worth masturbating over.

She looked out the window. What an Egyptian moon.





Egyptian Moon



* * *

10.

They kissed, standing, allowing their bodies to press. Her firm tits against his upper stomach, his hardening dick pulsing against her stomach... She kissed down his body, from neck, chest, stomach, cock. She nuzzled against it and began licking his balls, which made him shiver with delight. Her hot licks went up and down his shaft, wetting him and then her mouth opened and enveloped about an inch of his tool. Excited, he let her slip her mouth up and down that inch, but wanting more as his need raised, he began to lightly thrust his hips more, burying his cock even farther with each careful thrust. It took her a moment to get used to it, but she began to take two inches like a pro. Then she began to stroke his balls, tug them, and stopped once and awhile to repeat several licks and to suck on his balls.

Not wanting to cum, he finally took it away from her. He wanted to eat every part of her body, so he helped her back onto her feet and began to kiss and lick down to her firm tits. She moaned against his passion as he devoured her plump milk-makers; then, he started going south. Down her flat stomach and to her heated nest of hair and her soft, engorging pussy lips.

Eventually he helped her lay back on the bed and pushed her legs into the air. He grabbed underneath her knees, pushing until her ass lifted into the air. Her mound was up, looking juicy and her pink anus, tucked between her rounded ass cheeks, even looked delicious to him. He sucked on her ass cheeks and licked up her anus to her reddening, puffy pussy. She moaned against his ravishing mouth that sucked and licked up and down both her cunt and ass until she began to buck. He stuck a finger into her tight hole and wiggled it, helping his tongue increase the pleasure in her clitty. Then she began to scream, buck and beg for more, begging to stop and for more. It was perfect pleasure and torture wrapped into one. Her orgasm seemed to last forever.

He hopped up on the bed and lowered his hard on to her pussy, mashed the head against her clit awhile and then pushed it against her gaping tunnel. At first she seemed like a vice and it was hard to push inside her, but he kept rolling the bloated purple head of his cock against it until it slipped more and more. When his head was in her warmth wetness, he began to push a little at a time until he was buried to the nuts inside her. He squeezed his cock and balls against her, deepening inside her and loving the feeling of his balls pressed against her ass.

Unable to take any more, he began to thrust his cock back and forth, back and forth. They rocked together, her moaning again, him grunting for breaths as he felt his pleasure building the cum up for release. But he wasn't going to blow inside her. Not yet. He was proud of his fertility and he wanted to show her how proud he was of his cum. He withdrew and began to beat off, using her pussy juice to slide his hand up and down his pole.

"Let me taste it again," she said. "I want to taste that fat cock!"

So he squatted above her head and fed her his wet cock. She licked and sucked her juices off of him until he couldn't take it anymore. Breathing heavy, heart racing, he stopped and went back between her legs. Her pussy was so silky-wet that it was easy to slide back in and build himself up again. At last, his balls feeling like they were about to explode, he pulled out his cock and let the orgasm possess him. Stiffening and shaking, the spasmic waves of pleasure bursted from his cock and enveloped his body. The glossy-purple head of his cock opened and ejected white ribbons, thick like glue, into the air. (It felt almost like he was pissing). The first burst flew far enough to hit her forehead and hair. The second pleasurable explosion shot another ribbon onto her tits and stomach. And just as he thought it was weakening with a few weak streams that dashed her pussy, another erupted and splattered her stomach again, followed by another intense one. Dribbling more and squeezing out as much as he could, the orgasms faded to a hot, vivid memory.

Laughing, Ana Neba Keru licked some cum that she scooped up with one finger from her stomach. Tasting it, she said: "I'll always love watching you cum. And I'm afraid this is an ending. Is it?"

Tet-Ba, relaxed and glowing, climbed on top of her, cuddling up to her small, sweaty body. "Of course not," he said. "Now the fairy tale really begins."



Egyptian Princess Of New Egypt



Isis sighed softly as her maids painted her nails, the sun was just peaking over the edge of the earth casting lovely paints of pink, yellow, blue, and orange across Heaven's expanse. Dressed in nothing except a thigh high lace shift, Isis inhaled the early morning scents as they drifted threw her balcony window, as always the wild foreign textures from the market town far below the Summer palace; were so luxurious to the princess. Isis was the sixth Isis in the history of New Egypt, she was second in line to the thrown by birth, and was the eldest sister to a dozen or more siblings. Isis' older brother, Ra II was the future king of New Egypt, at only 23 years of age the young man had already had several victorious campeigns, and built numerous monuments to glorify his father- King Seti Ra. 

New Egypt had been completely restored to what once was Ancient Egypt, Seti Ra's great grand father had resurected all of the major palaces of the ancient world back in 2014, Ciro had been destroyed and before anyone had achance to claim the old lands the land was taken over by Marcus Stills and his private army. Marcus Stills was the founder and creator of New Egypt, the layout, the funding, and the population of the city. He deemed himself the ruler of New Egypt and established the old ways of power and religion, changing his name to Seti Of New Egypt. He married a greek virgin, Cassi of Athens. The bloodline has been of greek and egyptian ever since then. Now the year of 2084, Seti Ra was in power, with four wives and over a hundred concubines.

Ra II and Isis' mother was Seti Ra's first wife, Atropos of New Egypt, her birth home was southern Greece. Alexandria, Seti Ra's second wife, bore him three daughters, Nephretiti, Cena, and Amunet I. Nephthys, the third wife had two boys, Amon and Heru. Finally Seti Ra's fourth wife Sacmis had two boys and a girl- Seth, Sekhet, and Thoth.

Any babies born to the concubines were merely there in case all of the royal childern perished, which was nearly unthinkable because the human life span was at most a hundred years or more. 

Isis' given name was Isis Atropos Beset. It had been the House of Beset for over thirty years, and Isis was proud to carry such a title. She had two trusted maids that had been serving the princess since they were young girls, Ana and Nea. Isis glanced at her fingers, inspecting Ana's maticulus attention to detail.

"Ah Ana they are so lovely!" exclaimed Isis happily as she looked more closely at the gold paint that had tiny onyx flowers embossed on the tips.

"Thank you, your Highness." smiled Ana as she then began working on Isis' toes.

" I overheard Alexandria this morning your Highness." spoke Nea as she began combing out Isis' long brown curls.

"When Nea?" asked Isis softly.

"I was returning from my normal bathing time your Highness, and her Majesty was speaking in a hushed voice with some of the cook's servers." explained the girl.

"And what was she telling them?" Isis glanced back into her friend's worried gaze.

"She gave them some kind of potion for a drink, I believe, and she told them to wait until she told them to use it. The servers replied asking if it was for someone in particular... and Alexandria said that it was for Atropos' daughter!" whispered the servant. Isis grabbed Nea pulling her down to her level.

"Nea are you 100% positive of what you heard?" whispered the princess into her ear. Nea nodded.

Isis slumped back into her chair sighing heavily, she was so tired and sick of this woman's games of lies and envy. For years Alexandria had been jealous of Atropos and Isis, because Isis would be crowned Queen of New Egypt if anything happened to Ra II and the three daughters of Alexandria would never have a chance at power and fame, unless Isis were to die or be murdered; which is what the second wife had been trying to do since Isis had been born. 

"Was I wrong to tell you so soon my Lady?" asked Nea.

" No no, you were right to tell me." answered Isis as she stood.

"Bring me Captain Andreas, he should be in the courtyard of the soldiers quarters." requested Isis.

The two servant girls' smirked to one another, as they bowed and did as they were asked. Captain Andreas was Isis' only lover, she called for him every morning and night, when he was available the two would always end their visit with a passionate lovemaking. Nea and Ana would always sneak in the secret door to Isis bed chamber to watch. Captain Andreas was of Spartan and Greek decent, and was a powerful man, a firm leader, and hardened soldier. He was honorable and trustworthy, Isis had known him since he was a boy, when his own father had been recruited by Seti Ra to command his vast armies.

Ra II did not like Andreas at all, but he could not do anything to touch him, because of Seti Ra's satisfaction with the Captain's loyalty to the royal family.

"Captain Andreas sir, her Highness Isis requests your presence." the two servants bowed to the Captain. He was on his Arabian stallion, inspecting his personal guard when Nea and Ana had shown up.

"Can it wait?" he murmured down to the girls.

"No sir." whispered Nea as softly as she could manage, they were all so close to the uniformed guards it was difficult to say anything with out them hearing it. The handsome Captain straightened his composer and then waved the girls away.

"Travis!" he called. From the first row stepped a soldier, he came swiftly to his captain.

"See that they practice as normal." directed the Captain.

"Yes Sir." Travis saluted then did as instructed.

Captain Andreas wheeled his stallion about and cantered towards the palace, he halted then dismounted handing the reins to the stable master. As he navigated the many grand halls and corridors, he knew it was no secret to the entire palace to where he was going. Finally reaching his lady's double doors he knocked gently.

"Come in." her voice replied.

Andreas entered then locked the doors behind him. Isis turned to him, wearing her golden silk robe, her face was radient, her eyes so lovely. Her pierced nipples and belly linked with a gold chain. Isis smiled as she took him all in. Andreas was wearing his uniform proudly, it had been designed by his father. Breathable, stretchy, sweat absorbing material was used for the leggings and the short sleeved u-neck. This white bottom layer was meant for cold dessert nights and served as padding between the body and the armor. The armor was a lightweight steel, dyed a maroon color, all of the armor was the same for each soldier, big sections covered the majority of a man's body, except at the joints were left tiny slats for movement and range of motion. Boots were secured tightly around the ankles, as were the soldiers' helments about their heads when going into battle. All of the battle horses were Arabians, carefully bred and selected for war, they wore a chainmail that covered the face, neck, chest, back, and sides. Andreas had developed a special bracelet clasp to go around the animal's four ankles right above it's hooves, that had six lethal spikes portruding from it. It was also his idea at the age of sixteen to start training the war horses how to rear, kick, and strike out at the enemy.

The idea was approved by Isis' father once he had seen how effective it was in a mock fight when Andreas had turned nineteen.

Over the past fifty years the world had taken yet another shift in how it ran it's economy and industry, the switch had come when there was a food shortage in over half of the United States population, as well as parts of China, India, Africa, and South America. Returning to it's former ways of life, before cars and radio, before television and electronic devices. Not all of the counturies returned to it's roots. There were sections in every continent that refused to give up the standard of convenience and luxury. Marcus Stills had been a rich man all his life, yet he much preferred to be in the libraries of Ciro, until the day that the famine hit all of Egypt and chaos broke out among the country, it was in a downward spiral untill there was nearly nothing left, and it had only taken two years! Marcus had fled to Europe until the demise of Egypt was morbidly decided. 

Marcus had then returned to Ciro to see for himself the destruction of what once was his beloved home, and while he was exploring the demolished museums, is when the man had his realization of restoring Egypt's old way of life.

Andreas' eyes raked over his woman as she slowly approached him, true they were not married, but she had given herself to him completely only a year ago when they both had turned nineteen. Andreas father, General Maxemus was happy for his son's success with the Arabian war horses and his standing with the Pharoah, yet he was displeased with the young man's chosen love affair.

"What is thy biding my Lady?" asked Andreas softly as he dropped to a knee as she stopped in front of him.

"Captain Andreas, come eat with me, we have much to discuss." answered Isis as she motioned for him to rise and follow her. A small smile crossed her face as she heard her maids sneak in the private door to her room, Isis had known the two were enthrawled by Captain Andreas and especially now since they knew first hand what went on behind Isis chamber doors.

Andreas followed Isis to the balcony where a table was set with all kinds of delicacies, fruits, milk, breads, hot grains, freshly squeezed juice. He helped her to her seat then took his own across from her.

"Isis if you keep this up my father will banish me from your room entirely, I'm not use to such finery, you know this my love." Andreas whispered as he watched her serve him a glass of orange juice. Isis merely smiled at him.

"And a princess of New Egypt should never serve anyone, you are Pharoah's first daughter. I should be serving you." added the Captain.

"You do serve me Andreas, and believe me, we both take mutual enjoyment from it I think. And your father will do no such thing, my word has never been disobeyed, only my father or mother could say anything to me. You know this Andreas, but still this is not why I have called you my love." Isis bit into a ripe green apple.

"What is wrong?" questioned Andreas as he helped himself to the many fruits and grains, knowing it might be the only food he would get until later that night.

"It's Alexandria. She is doing it again." spoke Isis with such distaste.

"What is it-" 

Suddenly the doors burst open and in ran Amunet I, giggling as she skipped into Isis' lap.

"Good morning sis!" exclaimed the eight year old happily.

"Why good morning to you to." chuckled Isis, wrapping her arms around her little sister. Amunet was the youngest of Alexandria's three daughters, and she was the only one who didn't want Isis dead. Isis had taken the child under her wing at the age of two, knowing that her mother would be too busy plotting with the two older girls to take proper care of Amunet. The eight year old looked at Isis as a kind of mothering older sister, and loved her to death. The little girl went to Isis for everything, while her mother merely asked the servants to watch out for the girl, caring nothing for the child.

With Isis' love and devotion, Amunet had blossomed into a bubbly, happy little girl who loved life as much as her sister did.

"And who have we brought this fine morning Amunet?" asked Isis as she noticed the girl was holding a fluffy baby animal.

"I brought my new baby kitten that father gave me yesterday, see." Amunet held the tiny white tiger up.

"Oh my, is she ready to be away from her mother?" asked Andreas.

"Yes, father said she was, and if I was very careful and take good care of her, he will let me keep her." replied the little princess.

"Would you like to keep her here in my room, Amunet?" asked Isis.

"Oh yes please. I don't know if mommy would let me keep her, even though father said I could." Amunet said sadly.

"Oh don't you worry Amunet, I have the perfect place for your little tiger in my baby pen, it was the same pen that Siren played in when she was little." Isis said gently, as she took the new tiger from the girl. Apon hearing her name, Siren, an adolescent black jaguar appeared in the doorway. 

"Come Siren." Isis spoke firm, yet gently. Siren trotted over to her owner and sniffed at the tiger cub, giving a soft groan of approval, Isis then helped Amunet put the tiger in the play pen that was near Isis' bed.

"What will you name your new pet?" Andreas asked once they had sat down again.

"I think I will call her, Crystal." answered Amunet.

"That is a lovely name Amunet. Would you like to stay and have breakfast with us?" inquired Isis. 

"I would love to, but I am to eat with father and Atropos this morning." said the little girl as she stood up to go.

"Alright sweet one, give father and mother my morning love and let father know that I will be in his thrown room later this morning to see him, okay?" said Isis as the girl gave her a quick goodbye hug.

"Yes Isis, I will." answered Amunet happily, then she skipped back out of the room, closing the private door as she left. Isis then went and locked that door as well.

"Now where were we?" she asked as she took her seat at the table once more.

"I was about to ask what is it this time? And do I need to stay with you tonight?" replied Andreas taking her hand in his. Siren found her own breakfast out on the balcony in the warm sunshine, she eagerly dug in.

"Posion drink. And yes I would like you to stay with me for the rest of the month, if you could manage Andreas. I am appointing you as my personal body guard, I will speak with my father about it later, I'm sure he won't object to it." Isis spoke between bites of honey glazed bread.

"I'll see what I can do Isis, my father is growing very impatient with me over this, us, I mean. Why doesn't your father just banish Alexandria? This isn't the first time, and he knows it to be true."

"Father knows it to be true, but he can't do anything until he personally sees plotting taking place. Remember my grandfather made all of those changes to the old ways?"

"Yes I remember reading about them, such a strange thing to do, but I respect those changes."

Andreas stood as he began to remove his armor, then his whites. Isis let her robe fall to the floor as she danced her way to the bed, her eyes glued on him as his beautifully sculpted body was revealed. His skin was darker then her's, and his body had more muscle from hours of training, he had soft dark curly chest hair that tappered into a thin line down his stomach, leading the way to a thick patch of curls above his manhood. His legs were pillars of strength and his arms were long with gracefully proportioned muscles. Andreas' hair was cut short so it was curlier then usual, those amber eyes riveted on the object of his desires.

Laying there in her bed Isis was the picture of a glorious goddess, perfect to his eyes in everyway, her legs were formed having a thickness to them that matched the rest of her, her hips were shapely and the gold jewel that graced her lovely tummy was so alluring. Those lushes orbs that lay upon her chest swollen with need made Andreas weak at the knees, to top off their beauty, her nipples were not only points of desire they also were bejeweled with gold horseshoe rings. 

The young man moved closer his eyes watching all of her, those hazel blue eyes staring back at him; her long brunette hair had been braided. Isis grabbed a pillow coming to her lover she placed a hand on his semi-erect penis, placing the pillow at his feet she knelt on it now eyelevel with his shaft.

"Andreas you are so gorgeous." moaned the princess, as she eagerly took his head in her mouth, wrapping her hand about his root she then began sucking and licking his head softly, stroking his shaft in time with her suckling.

"Oh Isis it's been so long... I've dreamed of having you take me like this again." breathed the Captain, his hands petting her hair with encouragement and love. He felt himself grow even harder as she made love to his cock, he moaned and sighed at every lick, suck and stroke. In turn Isis would also give tiny moans and mews of excitement as she felt him swell and grow thicker, Andreas knew she loved to attend to him this way and he knew he'd never deny the princess this pleasure. 

"Ah yesss Isis harder, just a little bit harder..." groaned Andreas as his fingers moved lower to tug and play with her needy nipples, plucking and rolling them between his fingers. Isis sucked even harder, moaning over and over again with each tug or roll of her nipples.

"Do you like that lover? Do you want more?" asked Andreas, his voice a soft husky tone.

Isis nodded vigorously as she stroked and suckled his now extremely hard cock. 

"Mmmm so sexy Isis, gods your chains make me want you so." he groaned deeply as he plucked and pulled gently on her chains.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" Isis released him with a sound of such passion as each pull caused sensitive vibrations inside her already oversensitive nipples, sending waves of new pleasure threw her breasts straight down to her soaking wet pussy. 

Andreas couldn't wait any longer, he pulled her up on her feet and gently steered her towards the bed, giving her lovely ass a few deserved smacks.

"Mmmmmmm, take me, I want you Andreas." moaned Isis loudly as she climbed on all fours.

"Yes my Queen, here I come." murmured the Captain, he guided his head, rubbing against her wet warm lips teasing her, making her wiggle and push back. Groaning Andreas pushed his thick head into her, nearly crying out in pleasure as she gripped him so tightly, welcoming his large girth and length.

"So tight." Andreas moaned out as he pushed in still further, trying to go slow for her own pleasure, knowing that he could so easily plunge in if he so desired. Her mewling groan of delight made him such a happy man as he finally seated himself fully within her warm squeezing passage. 

Isis wiggled taking his palm in her's she placed it against her lower stomach.

"I love having you deep within my tummy Andreas, I love how connected we are, our oneness." she purred.

"Yes Isis, yes my love, here feel me, my lovely Queen." whispered Andreas as he began to move in and out of her eager pliable body.

He moved faster and faster, wringing cries of passion and pleasure from his woman as he retreated and then swiftly filled her, he gripped her hips holding her still so he could drive himself even harder; even deeper. Isis arched her back to accept his ploughing shaft, her shouts and groans echoed as he obeyed her sounds of pleasure.

"Yes, yes,yes... Yessssss Andreas! So good so gooood!" she barely managed as he rode her. Her body tingled zinging with every explosive orgasm Andreas drew from her roused body, gripping his cock hard with each of his thrusts.

"Isis I'm going to cum! Issssis!" groaned out Andreas as he pushed himself deep inside her letting himself burst, releasing a volume of his cum.

"Ohhhh Andreas Yes!" she screamed shoving herself back into him, wanting to take all of his gift inside her trembling hot body.

"Oh Isis my love, you are a beauty." sighed Andreas heavily as he rolled from her.

"My lover, Andreas I love you." purred the princess as she moved to lick up the last drops of his seed as he lay on his back. 

"I love you to Isis, you are my mate, my lover, my Queen. I am loyal to you." said Andreas as his fingers wove their way into her hair massaging her scalp.

"If my father approves, would you marry me Andreas?" asked Isis looking up from her licking.

"Yes, I would. But I am a servant of Egypt and a slave to Pharaoh. How could we marry?" Andreas sat up on his elbows.

"I want to move up the Nile closer to sea, near the memorial of Alexandia. There is an ancient palace near there, it was discovered in the early two thousands, I want to make it mine. And since my brother is not interested in it, that means all I have to do is restore it as I see fit. Father and Ra II are joint rulers of New Egypt, and I could be protector of the upper Nile!" explained the princess excitedly.