“Do you have condoms?” His eyes followed my finger, pointing to my night table. “Good…now, would you like me to go down on you or would you prefer to fuck?”
“Anything you like.” Admittedly, the question itself ceased all brain function, and I came loud and hard—a feat I’d never performed until Tariq’s lovely cock came into my life. I struggled to breathe and move, so Tariq obligingly carried me to bed where his pulled back the covers and laid me gingerly before retrieving three condoms from my stash. He placed them on the table top, and went to the end of the bed and crawled up to me; between my legs, he sat back on his knees. By then, I was eight-five percent recovered and enjoyed the show!
We grinned at one another, knowingly. I remember, quite clearly, thinking at the time: This man is about to make me fall in love with him!
Gently he took my left leg and placed it on his chest, then slowly began kissing and sucking my toes while his hand explored the length of my ebony legs, the fullness of my hips, the tautness of my stomach and finally and mercifully the swell of my breasts. Shortly thereafter, I watched his mouth, tongue and lips glacially blaze the same trail; his intense eyes never strayed from mine. I moaned and writhed under his keen attention—each lingering upward lick, nibble and kiss held more promise than the last, all the while his hands continued exploring the hills and dales of my body. “Please,” I labored to whisper.
“Please what?” He asked with a sly grin followed by a long lick with the flat of tongue. “Tell me what you want.” His tongue swirled wetly around my nipples. His fingertip brushed circles around my clit until I hissed, “Lower.”
“Lower?” Tariq purred. “Where?” He kissed the heaving flash between my breasts. “Say it, tell me what you want.”
“Eat my pussy,” I said barely audible even to my own ears.
“Say it again, please.” His lips were on my belly button. “I love the way you say ‘pussy’—it excites me.” He kissed my clit. “Please say it again.”
Oh yeah! This SOB just got himself a Sex Black Card: No limit, no interest rates, Frequent Flyer Miles with no blackout dates, and access to the exclusive club…meaning my ass!
“Eat my pussy, Tariq. Damn you, eat my pussy! Don’t you fucking stop until I cum!”
“Ohhh, I like that. Say it again.” He licked his lips and positioned himself in between my legs. “Tell me to eat your pussy.” He opened me, and disappears between my thighs, two fingers stroking into me.
Fearing I’d rip his hair from his scalp, I gripped the sheets and fired off a debauched, porn inspired string of expletives that would’ve made Ron Jeremy blush!
“Sweetie, relax...I got this. We have all night.” He chuckled, then licked my cum-slick lips. “Calm. I’m not going anywhere until you’re completely satisfied, understood?”
Suddenly, I felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding between my neglected slit—he dragged the flat of his tongue up and down my pussy—sucked my lips— paid fleeting homage to my clit—continued fingering me—tenderly fingering me until I lie in a trance, looking up at the ceiling, savoring the velvety manner in which my clit slithered between his lips. I’d expected him to ravage me, but he didn’t. I’d wanted his cock to pummel and stretch my deep cavernous reaches until I came like a slutty banshee in heat, but lying there, tame and timid as he pleased, those desires swirled away, leaving me feeling pampered and cared for. Tariq, a man I’d known less than twenty-five hours effortlessly satisfied my unbeknown wish to be indulged—physically—mentally—and emotionally. I ran my fingers through his dark hair and our eyes locked as he ate me, so gentle and wet.
“Are you happy?” Tariq asked, exploring me with his tongue. His quizzical eyes on mine.
I shook my head.
He sucked decadently harder; the sheer joy of triumph twinkled in his eyes. “Better?”
I nodded and closed my eyes; my body throbbed with howls of sensuous delight and mind bending delirium. I reached down and took his head gently in my hands while Tariq coaxed my orgasm from the deepest, darkest recesses of my very being.
“Do it again. Ohhh my God, my pussy…” I implored him, breathlessly. “Please, just once more. I’m so close.”
Tariq moaned and licked—licked and sucked—beseeched and begged me to cum for him; all the while the steady ebb and flow of his fingers beckoned my orgasm forth. It mushroomed and swelled in force and pleasure, it demanded I surrender—obligingly, I did so, allowing orgasm to hungrily devour my last threads of rational thought and decorum.
He kissed every inch on my heaving flash on his journey upward to my neck, then my lips; body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat. We smiled at one another and he cradled my head and we past a thousand tiny breathless kisses—I felt so small lying beneath him, swaddled in his muscular arms, his erection pressed between us. I could taste myself on his lips; I exhaled and went with the moment.
“Mmmm,” Tariq purred with a grin. “Someone is satisfied.”
“Very satisfied.” Looping my arms around his neck, I gave him a lazy kiss. This time he melted into me, ignoring his cock tapping my labia. In stark contrast to my handful of past lovers, Tariq was patient and attentive to my needs. In truth, given our impassioned rush to copulate in public, his tenderness left me perplexed—content, but perplexed. We kissed so long my lips went numb and my arousal peaked once more. I reached between us and began stroking him, encouragingly.
“Condom,” he pecked my lips and stood.
I rolled over on one elbow and watched his sheath himself. Good heavens, he was hot! Even his cock was beautiful. And for the time being at least, it was mine. He smiled and rolled me onto my back, himself on top in position. He caressed my right thigh and placed it about his waist and kissed me. Words can’t capture the unearthly awakening I experience with his first stroke; so warm, so full and close. Our eyes silently held one another. Try as I might, I couldn’t speak—I wanted him closer, deep. Each stroke filled an intractable void left vacant by fuckings past—with each stroke he made to the hilt—with each stroke he became a part of me….formless and fleeting yet still an ephemeral part of me.
Tariq felt it also. He kissed my neck. I basked in the sound of his breathing in my ear telling me how beautiful I was, describing in exquisite detail how good I felt; all the while his cock was kneading my pussy like a proverbial lump of clay under the skillfully hands of a master. My hands roamed over his back and down his tone body with sensual familiarity—our mouths, as if pulled by invisible forces, were drawn to one another; our kiss went on and on, stoking the flames of our passion higher and higher until it threatened to consume us entirely.
“Damn baby,” His hands went to my hips and pulled me onto his cock harder. “I could stay in you all night,” The words dripped from his tongue.
“Tariq,” I growled, rubbing my clit softly. We moved in sync—rocking back and forth. My orgasms are always rapturous, but this—this was different. The feel of his cock inside me, the sight of him fucking me, the sound of his groans as he thrust, the feel of his skin on mine was all too much. “Tariq.” I repeated.
“Yes, love,” His accent entered my ears and traveled straight to my pulsing clit. “Cum for me, Stella.”
“Ohh shit,” I hissed. His voice pushed my over the edge—the sensation was overwhelmingly savage and primal; my orgasm barreled down, and seized my body in languid waves of white hot bliss. I pulled him close, bit and licked his neck, stifling my cries.
“I’m cumming,” Tariq crooned in my ear, his hands gripped my ass cheeks, lovingly holding my body where it gave him most pleasure—his short gulps of air warmed my skin. Two more deep thrust and he came so hard, I felt his muscles flex then give way.
After returning to ourselves, I lie cocooned in his arms, buried in his chest—both of us lulled in a surreal, dream-like state where boundaries between what is real and what is not blur and merge. His fingers traced ever so lightly along my skin; my neck, my shoulders, and my arms—something I hadn’t experienced in so long, I didn’t know how to react. So, I nuzzled into him warmth and exhaled.
“I thought you were asleep,” He kissed the top of my head.
“I have trouble sleeping.” I mumbled into his chest, soothed by his fingers brushing up and down my spine. “I have nightmares.”
“Do you want to talk about them?”
“No.” I lied. I wanted to tell him…I wanted to have my fears allayed by the tones of his voice as I was physically held by his arms. Maybe he sensed I wasn’t being truth, he asked again. “Positive,” I drew closer to him and closed eyes and drifted to sleep.
A few hours later, I felt our bodies detaching from one another. Sleepily, I opened my eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed. The room was still dark. “Hey.” I touched his back.
“Hi, didn’t mean to wake you,” He turned and smiled over his shoulder. “I should leave now.”
I masked the sinking feeling in my stomach and said weakly. “You’re married.”
“What?” Tariq’s brow furrowed. “What makes you think I’m married?” he stroked my bare leg.
“Um, well, the sun isn’t up and you’re leaving.”
A big smiled crossed his face and I immediately feel stupid, though I know not why. He leaned over and kissed me.
“I’m not married. I’m Muslim. I have to prepare for Fajr, our morning prayer.
“Prepare.” I stared blankly. “Prepare what?” He flashed another smile…now, at this point, I’m really feeling stupid.
“I have to prepare my body,” he continued. “After sexual intercourse, it’s mandatory that we perform the ghusl..." My vacant expression compelled him to add, " The ghusl is the full washing of our bodies. Long story short, I need to shower before I pray.”
“Do you need some kinda special water—holy water perhaps? If not, you can knock out a quickie in my bathroom.”
Tariq looked towards the window and puckered his lips in thought. “You’re shower will do just fine.”
“Good!” I sprung from bed and showed him where everything was. “While you’re doing your thing, I’ll fry us a couple of bacon sandwiches.”
“Very funny, gorgeous!” He laughed and pulled me in for a kiss......then slammed the bathroom door in my face.