Chapter 8
Misty's mother stood over her, her hands on her hips, staring. "What do you mean, you don't know anything about this man? How can you accept a date with someone you've just met-and a foreigner at that?"
Misty looked from her dressing table, her face flushed. Her mother had been digging at her from the moment she'd found out about the date with Ah. Obviously, she was worried about her daughter. As Misty looked up at her face in the mirror behind her, Mrs. Sommer whirled and left the room. Misty finished adjusting her party dress and then she got up, inspecting herself in the floor-length mirror.
She turned her body this way and that, satisfied with what she saw. Yes, she looked very good. The tight white dress hugged her figure. It was cut low at her breasts and it was long enough to pass for formal but not so long that she would fall all over herself.
She was embarrassed to realize that it was, in fact, her high school prom dress and that she'd last worn it on that June prom night only two months before. She hardly could remember who had taken her to the dance in the gymnasium, but it was light years ago, so far as her development since was concerned.
She left the bedroom, looking at her watch. It was eight o'clock already and she was hungry. The rest of the family had eaten an hour ago. Downstairs they were all waiting for her and Jerry pursed his lips in a low wolf whistle. Misty rolled her eyes at him.
"Thanks," she snapped, "I really needed that."
"You look terrific," her brother said, his eyes skating up and down her curvy figure.
"Our little girl does look very nice," Mr. Sommer said, placidly puffing on his pipe. His eyes also were taking her in, appreciating the view.
"But I'm not a little girl," Misty complained.
"You're eighteen, my dear," her mother said, walking around her in a final inspection. "I wish you'd find something to cover up your bodice. You look like you're ready to pop out of that gown."
"It was good enough for graduation," Misty snapped. "What's so different now?"
"Your new boyfriend," Mrs. Sommer snapped right back. She looked at her husband. "Jason, can't you talk to this daughter of ours? After all, she's dating a Saudi Arabian. You don't suppose he'll kidnap her and carry her off to Araby, do you?"
Mr. Sommer laughed. "This is the twentieth century, my dear. The Arabs come here for their fun. They can't misbehave at home or there's real trouble for them. Don't worry, I'm sure this young man...."
"A young man of twenty-eight," Mrs. Sommer snapped. "Ten years older than Misty."
He sucked placidly on his pipe. "I wouldn't worry. Misty is a big girl. She knows how to take care.. . "
The doorbell rang and Misty jumped. She ran toward the door with her mother calling after her. "Gently, dear, gently. Don't forget you're a lady."
But Misty had something else on her mind and, as she jerked the door open, she blurted, "Remember, I'm Misty Sommer. And you're Ali Habib, right?"
There was a chuckle on the front porch and her eyes widened. A beautiful man stood waiting for her. It was Ali, all right, his dark hair slicked down, and looking immaculate in a midnight-blue tuxedo, complete with black tie, ruffled shirt and glearning pearl studs. Visions of oil wells danced in Misty's head. Her eyes rolled back.
"You must forgive me for not finding out these things," the smooth Arab-accented voice said, "Misty Sommer, and it is such a beautiful name."
Misty was thrilled at the sight of him and she caught her breath. Already she could feel her breasts start to swell, and it was a dangerous feeling. Supposing her mother was right and they did pop out of her bodice at some embarrassing time? She smiled to herself as she opened the door wider.
"Come on in," she murmured. "My parents want to get a look at you."
It was an amiable confrontation. Ali was very polite in his old-world way, and immediately Misty could see that her mother was charmed. She was proud of how Ali looked, dark, straight, proper, and somehow looking like the son of a wealthy man as he stood before them.
Her father tried to sound out Ali's financial condition, but Misty headed him off with some sharp looks of her own. Her father gave up, instead shaking Ali's hand as they went to the door to see them off.
"Don't keep our little girl out too late," Mrs. Sommer called after them, and Misty could have died.
"God, her little girl!" she hissed in the darkness.
Ali was chuckling again as Misty flushed. God, her mother had made her feel like such a child, when she really was beginning to feel very grown up. After all, she'd sure as hell lost her cherry in a big hurry, and if her mother only knew with whom she wouldn't be so worried about her going out with a stranger.
As they walked down to the curb, Misty took his arm. "I hope you understand. I usually don't allow strange men to pick me up and I especially don't allow them to do to me what you did to me this afternoon."
He was very attentive, every inch the gentleman. "Oh, I understand, Miss Sommer...."
"After what we did on the raft I think it's all right if you call me Misty."
"Misty... I understand that I am a very fortunate man and I certainly appreciate the experience we had together. I feel very honored...."
"You can can it," Misty snapped. "Just so you don't think I'm an easy roll in the hay."
He still was protective as they reached his car, and it was a flying bomb. A Mercedes sport, a 450SL, a nifty little number that she knew went for about twenty-five big ones. She pursed her lips and her eyes widened. She saw lots of oil wells on the horizon.
"Hey, this is special," she said.
She leaned against him and at once his arm came around her waist. They were in darkness where light from the front porch could not penetrate, and she didn't pull away when his hand slid up to cup her breast. Ah, that old familiar tingling. She lifted her chin and her eyes half closed. "Oh, Ali, you sure have the touch."
"And you have the lovely pear-shaped breasts, my lady," he purred, his voice as smooth as oil flowing through a pipe line.
She tingled again as she put her fingers over his. "No more for the present, if you please. I'm starving. You may consider yourself a lady-killer, but it isn't fair to starve them to death."
He chuckled as he held the door while she slid into the car. She brushed at her pretty white party dress and then she watched him slide in at her side. He looked so smart in his almost black tux, so elegant. It made his eyes and his teeth very white and his ruffled white shirt was like a tumble of snow coming out of his breast.
As he closed his door she leaned against him, shoving her left breast into his upper arm. He looked down at it, his hand drifting to her throat so that a finger could tuck itself into her bodice. She waited while he worked the finger into the deep, warm crack between her breasts. When he started to climb one of the slopes, she simply placed her hand over his again.
"You forget. No food, no play. Come on, or I'll start chewing on your genuine leather upholstery."
She sat back as he started the car, clashed the gears until she winced, and then they sped away from the curb. He drove down to the waterfront, to a remodeled Victorian boat house where the lights twinkled from the eaves, an orchestra played and girls' laughter trailed over the water. They got out and paraded inside as a youth in a white car coat took the keys and leaped into the Mercedes, speeding off to some hidden parking place.
The Victorian atmosphere was carried out inside the restaurant with waiters dressed in old-fashioned clothing, gas-like lamps, red velvet drapery, red carpet with a small orchestra that played in front of a small crowded dance floor. The head waiter bowed over them as Ah slipped some folded bills into his palm and they were taken to a table up front, right next to the dance floor, but tucked into a secluded corner where there was some privacy.
As they sat down Ah snapped his fingers and a waiter hurried over. They ordered drinks, Misty choosing something tall and not too strong, while Ah chose some European thing she did not understand, something she had never before heard of.
They sat next to each other, their backs against the wall, sharing a soft couch-like seat. They placed their elbows on the table and gazed across the room. The place was just about filled, very gay, and there was lots of laughter still going on. She smiled into his face and then she kissed him on the tip of his nose.
At that moment their drinks came and they sipped deeply. Then he took her hand. "It is time for the dance, my lady," he purred, his voice smooth as crude oil. "You would like to dance with me?"
Misty giggled. "I would like to dance with you."
They went to the floor and, since the music was fast, they did an energetic disco. Then the pace slowed and, during a dreamy number, he held her close. Misty liked it when his arm went tightly around her waist and she was able to tuck her chin into the side of his neck.
Their bodies moved very closely together, her breasts mashed against his chest and again threatening to pop out of her bodice. He shoved his crotch against hers and she could feel the lump of his cock. He was up, all right, and very hard. He withdrew his head and smiled into her face.
"You are aware of me?" he murmured.
She nodded. "Very aware."
He looked around. "Come, one more thing before it is time for dinner."
He took her hand and they left the floor. He led her out on the boat house deck, around to the water side, where it was dark and they were alone. Behind them, through the windows, they could see into the place, where the orchestra was playing another disco number and the couples were shaking everything.
They stood against the railing, looking out into the bay, where the moon drew a ribbon of silver across the water, straight to them. His arm went around her waist. Then it slipped down until he was pressing into the firm meatiness of her ass. Oh, but that felt good. She turned to smile at him.
"You really are going to make me earn that dinner, aren't you?" she said, her voice low and throaty.
He nodded, his teeth a slash of white in the shadows. "I will pay in full, in a few moments. You understand my need first, do you not?"
He moved his hand on her bottom, pressing into the flesh until little jumps of pleasure were darting through her body. She gasped when his hand slid into the crack of her ass and gently slid up and down. Oh, but that felt good. A goose could thrill a girl all the way up to the roots of her hair, and Misty was thrilled everywhere. She closed her eyes as his hand slid down her crack, all the way down between her legs, until he was working at the edge of her pussy.
She gasped as he lifted the hem of her dress and touched the inside of her thigh. Oh, God, but that was tender flesh, untouched flesh that went crazy when his fingers brushed up into her crotch once again. He wormed into her hairs and she felt small spurts of pleasure begin. Soon he was ringing her outer lips, drawing moisture from her body so that she was soon lubricating generously.
She was up on her toes, her hands gripping the railing of the boat house deck as his hand wormed into her pussy. He stuck a finger inside and moved it around, finding her knot of nerves and muscle and wiggling it back and forth. She gasped and her hands went behind her, where he was standing. She groped against his crotch, finding his prick and squeezing it right through his pants.
It was Ali's turn to gasp and she yanked at his zipper tab, opening his fly and rummaging inside, even as his finger continued to milk her. She uncoiled his prick and pulled it out. Then she turned, looking down at his snake. It was so long, so brown, so straight. It was a lance in the moonlight, sticking straight toward her middle.
He pointed. "Please, observe the pretty water."
Misty turned her back on him again, gripping the rail as he lifted her dress, tucking it into her waist. She felt the cool night air on her bare ass and she knew that soon enough she would be warmed.
She closed her eyes as she felt his prick touching the cheek of her bottom. The prick slid across her cheek and into the crack. Oh, that felt good. A prick was better than a hand any day of the week. He shoved his crotch against her and she felt the prick bend against her ass.
She reached back, wrapped her fingers around the straight shaft, and then she directed it. She moved it over her bung, which was tightly closed. She held the knob right there, trying to force herself to relax. She worked at it mightily, knowing that she had to defeat a psychological block. She at last managed to ease off and, when she did, he leaned into her.
It was like nothing Misty ever before had felt inside her body. His knob came inside and she gasped. God, she felt as though she were being split wide open. He leaned again and several inches of prick came inside her. Oh, she really loved the feeling now. Her mind went into a whirl as he shoved again and again, sinking inch after inch into her body until at last she felt his balls flapping against her thighs.
She reached back. There was no prick left. It was all up in her. Lower, she found his balls and she ran her fingers over them, pinching now and then and delighting in his moans of pleasure. She felt the sizzling heat of his balls, which were tight with his male power. He was really ready all over again, even though she thought she had drained him that afternoon.
He began to move his body back and forth, his prick sliding out a few inches and then back in again. Misty leaned away from him and then toward him, working to match his rhythm. Soon they were like a machine, working together, his real-life piston sliding in and out of her body. God, but the machine was becoming very hot.
She felt his swelling and he gasped, his face buried in her hair. "I'm going to, how you say, come very soon now, my darling," he gasped.
She nodded. "I can tell But when do I get some satisfaction?"
"Soon. Do not worry. In my country the man is king and the woman exists to serve him. He must satisfy his pleasures first and then your time will come."
Misty didn't like the sound of that and, even as he ripped into her body, it occurred to her that he was coming in her for the second time and she had yet to get her rocks off from him.
He blasted up into her, grunting and ramming her so hard with his hips that she almost was vaulted over the railing into the bay. She held on, her nails digging into the wood, as he came into her from behind a second time, his hot loads of jizz warming up her whole middle and radiating out into her entire body. He came with several more heavy spurts, all of which were drowning her insides, but she loved the feeling. It was unique, something which never before had happened to her.
At last he sagged against her back, draping himself over her like a damp towel. She planted her feet to hold him up while he gasped for air and strength. Oh, but that did feel good. She almost laughed. Talk about being well-connected. She had this connection with an Arab who obviously was not worried about where his next meal was coining from.
He gasped over her ear, his breath stirring her hair as he gradually regained control of himself. As last he pulled his body from hers and stepped back, still weak in the knees, from the look of him.
Misty turned, confronting him. "Well, I hope you had a good time. I'm beginning to feel like a mare in a pasture. You Middle Easterners certainly love using the back door. Are you sure you aren't a Greek?"
"Ah, we Arabs are first cousins to the Greeks," Ah replied, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Do not worry, my sex kitten. Soon we will have our pleasures in the manner of your country, of my adopted country."
She nodded and, at that moment, another couple appeared on their deck. Ali quickly moved against the railing and Misty flipped her dress down over her ass. They stood close together, shielding his still semi-hard and still dripping prick as the couple paused at their side.
"Oh, such a night, Arthur," the woman said, her voice purring in the night.
"Yes, my darling," Arthur replied.
The newcomers glanced at Ali and Misty, smiling in a friendly way. "Isn't it peaceful out here?" the man said. "So calm, so without tension or effort. It's difficult to imagine doing anything out on this deck except dreaming."
Ali laughed shortly and looked into Misty's face. She was smiling, too, but she couldn't help herself. Ah at last replied, "Yes, it is very placid. But there is excitement in the moonlight. It can do strange things to people."
The other couple peered at him. "Strange things?" the woman asked.
He nodded, placing his fingers on Misty's cheek. "There is the animal in us all, waiting to be released. This place, this light, this setting, it can release that animal."
The others stared and then the man was pulling at the woman's arm. "Come, Martha, we're going back inside. I don't think there are so many animals in there."
Sounding rather disappointed, Martha agreed, and the couple left. Ali looked into Misty's face, kissing her on the nose. She said to him, "Just who the hell are you, anyhow?"
"You know. I am the student here. My English, it is not yet perfect. My father wants me to learn American ways so that I may teach others at home. It is as simple as that."
She sniffed. "And who is your father?"
"Ah." He took her arm as he wiped his white handkerchief over his prick, cleaning it thoroughly before tucking it back inside his pants. "Perhaps someday you will meet my father."