Chapter 9
Misty had mixed feelings as they strolled back inside the restaurant. Twice he'd given it to her from the rear and neither time had he made any effort to make certain she was going to have an orgasm of her own. The damned Arabs, she thought. He'd laid it on the line: The male was the one in charge, the boss, the one who was supposed to get his satisfaction before the woman.
Well, that attitude didn't turn Misty on. She was going to hold out on this bird, if necessary, in order to let him know that she wasn't rolling over on her back for a man who wasn't going to do more than take her to dinner. The frills were very nice, but she had to get her sexual satisfaction as well.
They returned to their table where Ali placed his hand on her knee under the table as they ordered another round of drinks. Then he ordered for her, without bothering to ask for her choice. Fortunately, he ordered something that Misty liked. He spoke to their waiter in French and she never knew exactly what they ate, except that it was chicken in some very good French sauces, along with three kinds of wine.
They took their time eating and, as they did so, his hand occasionally returned to her knee. He enjoyed sliding it up her thigh, under her dress, all the way up to the edge of her pussy, where there was nothing more to block his way. Each time he came close to the heart of her body she stiffened and once she dropped her fork with a clatter.
He laughed easily as a few heads turned toward them. "Confidence, my pet," he purred as he placed his hand directly over her cunt. Misty drew in her breath sharply, vibrating to the feel of his fingers closing over her snatch. She held her breath, almost choking on her wine. She put down the fragile glass in a hurry and put her napkin to her lips.
She looked into his face. "If you do that here I can't guarantee what will happen," she murmured. "I'm very hot, thanks to you and your Arabian male ways. I haven't gone off yet and my fuse is cut very short."
He again chuckled. "Ah, I was hoping for as much. So, the lady is frustrated. I told you, do not worry. You hour will come. It was you who insisted on eating before we... well, before we carry on with our affair."
She nodded as she polished off the chicken. He watched with continued amusement, asking if she wanted another course. She declined, but she did not turn down the French pastry cart which was loaded with good things to eat. She took a double dessert, loving every bite.
At last they were done and she put her napkin in her lap. Her fingers went to his thigh and then up his leg to where she could touch his pouch lightly. As she felt him she also felt his prick begin to come back to life. "That was very nice, Ali," she purred, speaking with her lips against his ear. "I'm sorry if I was testy, but I get that way when I'm hungry." She giggled. "Keep me well fed and you can do as you please with me."
They laughed together as he signaled their waiter. Misty saw AH take out a thick roll of bills. He placed several twenties on the little tray and the waiter took it away with Ali waving for him to keep the change.
She cocked her head at him as he finished his third cup of thick, dark coffee that came in a small cup. "I'm afraid you spend your money very freely," she said.
He shrugged. "My father's money. He thinks school costs so much in America. He sends me too much and I have plenty left over for pretty ladies such as you."
Misty stuck out her lower lip. "So, do you have very many pretty ladies on your string?"
He wagged his finger at her. "Ah, do not try to trick me, Misty. It is not nice. Come along now, and I will show you something that is very nice. One of my best friends loaned it to me for the night."
He shoved the table back and they got up. Their waiter bowed until his chin was almost on the carpet as they left. In a moment their Mercedes was screeching to a halt before them and the youth in the car coat was holding the door for Misty as Ali slipped him some bills.
They zipped out of the parking lot and along the boulevard close to the harbor. Soon they turned in at one of the city's newest and fanciest marinas, where even Misty's father hesitated to pay to tie up their small sailboat. Ali drove slowly along the slips until he found a parking place close to a large craft, one so big it almost could be classified as a yacht.
Misty didn't dare think it would happen-but it did. He took her arm and led her to the yacht. It was easily fifty feet long with two masts, a large enclosed cabin and beautiful lines that showed up cleanly in the lights that dotted the slips.
"Oh, Ali!"
"You like it?" She could see that he was pleased that she was impressed.
"God, who wouldn't? You say it belongs to a friend of yours?"
He nodded. He led the way to the short gangway that led across to the deck. They walked carefully, their heels clicking on the solid wooden deck. They stopped and she looked forward and aft. "It's an absolute treasure," she gushed.
"So, my friend will be pleased that you are pleased," he said.
She stared into his dark face, touching his cheek with her fingers. "Just who is your friend, a millionaire?"
"Another of the students from my country, that is all," he said. "Perhaps you will meet later. That would be very agreeable for us all, I should think."
They strolled the deck as he pointed out the wheel, the anchor, and other nautical features of the sleek craft. Then he opened the small door that led down into the cabin. She followed him down the short ladder to the roomy place, which was three rooms, really: a combination lounge and kitchen, a bedroom, and a very imagine bathroom. All the comforts of home.
Misty was stunned at the richness of the place. Why, she thought, the boat might be worth almost half a million dollars. She really didn't know, but she knew that nobody could afford such a craft without a great deal of money and an income to keep it operating.
"The crew has been given the evening free," Ali said as he stood in the middle of the cabin deck, looking at her. "There is only you and I."
She turned to him, closing the gap between them as she lazily draped her arms around his neck. "Now isn't that lucky for us? Your friend thinks of everything. I can't wait to meet the skipper of this yacht."
She saw a glint of humor in his eyes. "As I said, perhaps you shall."
She threw her hips against him, rubbing them back and forth against his crotch until his prick was standing out like a blunted cannon, a chunk of iron, being pounded by her hips as she swished them across his front. She stepped back and together they looked down at his crotch.
"So, the stud is ready for me," she muttered. "Well, remember, this time I'm the main event."
He laughed. "Of course. I promised you as much, and Ali Habib does not go back on his word... ever."
She dropped her hands to her sides as he tucked his hand against the side of her neck, under her golden hair. He stroked her gently and then, his hand firm, he began to draw her toward him. Soon her breasts were rubbing against the front of his jacket. He looked down at them.
"You do not wear much to interfere," he muttered, "but I have much too much clothing. If you will excuse me I will-as you Americans enjoy saying-slip into something comfortable. You must do the same. Here, this is a short robe for you."
He gave her a white robe, pointed toward the bathroom, and she left him unbuttoning his shirt studs and removing his jacket as she retreated. In the bathroom she quickly shimmied out of her party dress, carefully folding it over the shower rod. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing that her face was flushed. She was excited about what she hoped was going to happen, all right, very excited. She had played games with this man ever since the beach that afternoon and it seemed so long ago now. It was time for her to get her satisfaction.
Her breasts were pulled up tight, the nipples standing out. Her blonde bush was glistening like newly poured gold. But there was a trembling in her knees. Yes, she was ready, and she was very excited.
She pulled the robe over her shoulders, tying it at her waist. It came halfway down her thighs and looked very sexy. She posed, pouting in a saucy way and then laughing at her own antics. Then she turned and went back into the bedroom, through it, and into the galley-lounge. He was waiting for her, his dark eyes flashing.
Ali had on a robe of his own, this one black, so that it contrasted sharply with her garment. His also was very short and Misty got the feeling that the yacht was well-supplied with such robes for parties. One size fits all.
She posed for him, poking one knee in front of the other, and she stretched out her arms. "like me?" she asked in a little-girl voice.
He nodded as he came close to her. "Love you. You are a most exciting lady, my dear."
She waited as he circled her, his eyes darting up and down. Then, surprising her, he stopped behind her. An instant later she felt her robe being lifted and his hand was on her ass. She closed her eyes as the palm roamed across one of her warm cheeks and into the crack. Here we go again, she thought. This guy has a fetish for the back door. I wish he'd try the front once in a while.
Ah ran his ringers up and down the crack as Misty got up on her toes. Oh, but that did feel very good. She turned toward him so that his hand slipped out from under her robe. He immediately untied the garment and pulled it away from the front of her body. Together they looked down at her breasts, her belly and her pussy. All seemed to be ready, eager and waiting for his bidding.
He smiled as he palmed a breast. His hand came under the mound, lifting it gently as though testing its weight. She purred deeply in her throat, like a big contented cat. His hand came up over the slope of her breast and his thumb raked across the nipple. She shuddered as though he'd poked her in the belly with his elbow. Oh, but that was nice. Her nipples were so sensitive.
He pulled the robe over her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it to a chair. Then he leaned over' her, his lips finding her other nipple and kissing it. She grabbed at him, catching the folds of his robe and holding on. Oh, his mouth was driving her out of her mind, All of her hours of frustration were welling up in this instant. He'd gotten his rocks off with her several times, but she had yet to pop her cookies.
She shuddered as he slid his tongue across her nipple, raking the pink bud until its nerves were standing up and shouting for joy. Then he I kissed the other nipple and again his tongue did its efficient work. She ran her hands through his hair, her eyes closed, as he nursed at her breasts, moving back and forth in leisurely fashion.
Finally he straightened, stepped close to her, his arms down between their bodies. He came against her with his palms turned out, so that his fingers curled directly into her snatch. She gasped with surprise and pleasure at his direct attack.
"So," she squealed, "you've finally discovered that I have a cunt!"
"I have always known." he muttered, his voice very low. "Saving the best for last, as you Americans would say."
She was forced to back up as he pressed against her, and soon her bottom came up against the back of a chair. She was bent over backwards as he kept his hips coming into her and his fingers rummaged through her box.
She loved the feel of his hands in her hairs, working their way straight to her cunt lips where they ringed her puffy lips and then dipped into her hole. Immediately she was piping hot, steaming, panting, her juices flowing generously. God, this man could turn her on and off like a faucet. He was a miracle-worker.
She was bent farther back over the chair as his hands kneaded her belly, worked over her thighs and then returned to her pussy. She held her breath as she extended her hands, worked at his sash and finally untied his robe. She spread it wide open and his prick leaped out like a switchblade, jumping straight toward her middle like a lance.
She gasped as she saw it. It seemed so much larger than it had been earlier. "You've grown," she exclaimed.
"I've grown in my desire for your body, my lady," he replied at once, his eyes glowing as he smiled straight into her face. "I will show you how I have grown."
He didn't waste any time. His prick raked across her thigh, nestled into her hairs, and then it was shoving against the side of her cunt lips. She peered down at it, her eyes wide. It was like watching the linking of a couple of space craft in orbit high above the earth. She felt as though she were in orbit, all right.
He moved his cock farther to the right, centered on his target and then he again looked deeply into her eyes. "So, you are all ready?"
"Hell, yes," she exclaimed, leaning back farther so that her hips jutted forward with a fine hard edge.
He angled his hips forward, also, and at once his knob, dark and dripping already, slipped inside her body. She bit her lower lip with the sharp pain, because he was really so large. He leaned into her again and several inches of cock disappeared into her body. Oh, but that was wonderful, like sliding down a long slick runway into a pot of gold.
He grasped her shoulders and again shoved his prick against her, lifting her to her toes now, and bending her back at an almost impossible angle. She wondered if she would break in half from the bending or from the size of his prick. But she did neither. Instead she accepted his total length as he slid in inch after inch until his balls were flapping against her thighs.
Then he paused, catching his breath as their gasping filled the otherwise silent cabin. Well, not quite silent. There was a very gentle motion and outside she could hear the lapping of the harbor waters against the hull. It was all very peaceful and erotic. Misty hoped she wouldn't pass out from pure bliss and miss any of the fun.
He pulled his hips back from her body, easing the force with which she was pressed against the chair back, and then he came forward again, shoving his weight into her, forcing his prick back in to the hilt. She ballooned with the bulk of him as he again totally filled her pussy.
He began pumping in a regular rhythm, in and out, working smoothly but with great power. Still, there was an old-world gentleness about this Arab. It was as though he had been raised to know how to treat a woman as a total sex object, as though sex were one of his main purposes in life.
Misty didn't know much about him, but she was certain that he was giving her the best fuck she'd ever had, with the possible exception of that first time with her brother Jerry. That had been an excellent screwing, but it had been her maiden voyage, so that it was un-like any other screwing she ever was-likely to get in her lifetime.
But Ah, well... he was something else. He pumped in and out in a steady rhythm, growing with each stroke, lifting her to the gates of orgasm and then hurling her over the threshold. She felt herself falling through space, her body growing ever hotter as she sought reentry.
Then she was coming, convulsing, spilling out her hot juices so that they seemed to spread all over her body, burning everywhere they touched her flesh. It was beautiful agony the way she spread her heat. She let it flow onto him also, flooding his prick with her hot and musky juices, making him cry out for joy.
"Oh...! " she wailed as her pussy went into convulsions, the muscles like a rubber bellows, sucking in and out, grasping at his prick like a pair of hands and pulling it as deeply into her body as she could manage. She was amazed at the way her cunt was a living thing, almost with a mind and a will of its own as it dragged on the knob of his cock.
He could not resist her effort, of course, and in another minute he was blowing out his cheeks. His eyes bugged as his prick exploded, the knob whipping inside her pussy like a snake. He blasted a wad of jizz against the base of her cunt and she took it, staggering, but accepting it and shooting her strength right back at him. She also was coming, for a second time.
They came into one another's bodies, shooting, standing firm, struggling, grappling like a couple of wrestlers. They came again and again as they fired their sexual energy at point blank range. She wondered how long they could keep it up, and the duration astounded her.
She climaxed again and again, repeatedly brought to her sexual peak by this clever man who had the tongue, the hands, and the prick of a master sexual machine. She felt herself hit new heights of passion with each convulsion until, just when she thought she had no more to give, somehow she found a reserve of sexual strength.
At last she began to droop, although she recovered somewhat now and then to give him a few final spurts. He also was running low, and she had a feeling that this time she'd really drained his crankcase. God, he'd taken her best shots and come back for more. This man must have stored up his male juices for a month.
They staggered apart and Ali plopped down on a couch, his body glistening in its nakedness. Misty also had the staggers, and she made her way to a chair, where she sank down gratefully. There was no sound except their breathing inside the large cabin for several minutes.
Gradually the other sounds came back to Misty. She heard the gentle lapping on the hull and a few sounds outside on the bay. She rolled her head from side to side, trying to get herself oriented once again. God, what was she doing to herself? She'd been a fucking machine from the moment she'd lost her cherry, and that wasn't very long ago. Since then she'd been making it with every man and woman who'd crossed her path.
She looked across at Ali. He was half smiling, somehow elegant even though he had no clothes on. His dark prick was drooping between his legs and he was breathing normally. A few minutes later he got up, went into the head and returned with a couple of hot damp towels. He dropped one in Misty's lap and its heat made her gasp.
But she clutched it gratefully, wiping her face, then her breasts, and then wiping at her crotch until she'd cleaned herself. He did the same. Then he took the towels from her and stored them away someplace. He came back, picked up her robe and dropped it into her lap.
"My, you're being very attentive, for a hard line Arab," she murmured. "I thought women were inferior."
"Not you, my lady," he said, leaning over and kissing her gently on the mouth. "Now get into your robe at once."
She laughed. "Why? Is company coming?"
"I think so, yes."
Misty stared. "Are you serious? Who would be coming here tonight?" Then the light dawned in her head. "Oh, you said something about the owner."
He nodded as he got into his black robe and shoved his feet into comfortable slippers his host apparently had also supplied. "I expect the owner to arrive soon. We are classmates at the college, as I said."
Misty pulled on her white robe and she sat watching him as he went into the galley and opened the refrigerator. He got out a bottle of champagne and a couple of frosted glasses. He brought them into the salon where he opened the bottle with a skillfully soft "plop." He then poured into the glasses, handing her one.
They touched rims as he again stood over her, and then they drank. It tasted good and Misty realized she'd screwed away a good deal of energy. God, but she was abusing her body. It was remarkable that her pussy hadn't been torn apart. So much had been done to it the last three days and she wondered when she would decide she'd had enough. If she ever would get enough.
She put her fingers to her lips. "Oh, I just remembered."
He frowned, waiting.
"My parents. We told them I'd be home soon. It's getting late."
He smiled lazily as he went to a white telephone. "What is their number?"
"Five five five, seven eight six nine."
He dialed it at once and in a few seconds he was speaking to her mother. "Ah, Mrs. Sommer. I hope I did not disturb you. This is Ali Habib... no, nothing at all is wrong. Misty and I are having a wonderful time at the boat house dance. Things are moving rather slowly here. There's to be a dance contest but there have been delays and we do want to stay and see if we can win... That's right, and so we will be somewhat later than we planned... no, do not worry, she is safe... so you may start your night's rest and she will be home safe in her bed when you awaken in the morning."
He hung up and smiled at her, spreading his hands. "You could charm the birds out of the trees, couldn't you?" she said.
He laughed. "If I were hungry enough to want to cook them for dinner," he replied in a voice that made her shudder slightly.
They sipped from their glasses for a while, his pouring keeping them filled. He got another bottle and had just opened it when they heard a noise on the deck overhead.
"Ah," he said, pausing to listen, "the owner."
Misty squirmed in her chair, feeling uncomfortable. God, she would be in this boat with two Arabs and God knew what they'd do to her. She hoped that she wasn't expected to "thank" their host for the use of the yacht. She'd had just about enough fucking for one night.. . well, perhaps not quite enough, but she did feel uncomfortable.
A moment later there were footsteps on the ladder and then a figure appeared. It was the owner, whose appearance made Misty gasp. He was a she, a dark and beautiful she who wore a peasant blouse and a flowered skirt. She was a swarthy and gorgeous thing with long black hair that fell to her bare shoulders. Her figure was ripe with heavy breasts that peeked over the top of her scoop-neck blouse, and hips that waved hello when she came down the ladder. She wore black slippers with laces that came halfway up to her knees.
She paused at the foot of the ladder, her hands on her hips, looking as though she were about to launch herself into a native dance in some Middle Eastern cafe filled with sweaty men in white linen suits and smoking funny cigarettes.
Ah called out. "Well, so you're here at last. We've been waiting to greet you."
She lifted her chin. "So I see. You have been waiting by getting out of your clothes. How friendly of both of you." She seemed resentful that they were in robes instead of being fully clothed, Misty realized. She had a throaty voice and an accent exactly like Ali's. She wondered if they had been friends in their homeland.
Ah was on his feet, gesturing. "Misty, this is Gypsy Mamol. Gypsy, I want you to meet my... our new friend, Misty Sommer. We're all going to have a delightful experience together."
The woman named Gypsy swished over to Misty and briefly shook her hand in a mannish sort of way. Her dark eyes, glittering under heavy lashes, swept over Misty's face and figure as she gently pulled Misty to her feet for inspection. The two women looked at one another for a full minute, Misty realizing that Gypsy would be considered a gorgeous and exotic creature in any language. She was a dusky beauty with all the curves, the moves and the face to match. Misty couldn't keep from staring.
Ali's nervous laughter broke the spell. "You see, my two beautiful ladies, I told you both that you would be entranced with one another, and it is so, no?"
The women looked at him and it was Gypsy who spoke first. "You have told her?"
"About you?" he replied. "Yes, my dear. Misty knows that we are friends from the homeland and that we are friends at the college here, pursuing our studies together, often as one. We are all going to be great friends from now on."
"The friendly part," Gypsy persisted. "Did you tell her about that?"
AH cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed. "Ah, please, sit down, Gypsy. After all, this is your home. Please have some of your own champagne. Did you complete your seminar work at the college this evening?"
Gypsy accepted a glass and she drank it down in a single gulp. Her arm came out for more and he refilled her glass. Misty was feeling the drinks they'd had, the cocktails, the wines and now the champagne. Her head was beginning to whirl. Thank goodness, she thought, that she'd had some food to help fill her tummy.
Gypsy shrugged off the question about her evening seminar. Then she casually put her glass aside, stood and began to remove her clothing. Misty stared as she crossed her hands at her waist, grasped her blouse, and pulled it over her head. Her dark hair went every which way and her deep brown breasts, beautifully full things with brown nipples, bounced into view.
Misty's eyes widened and she glanced once at Ali for some sort of an explanation, but he was merely smiling as he enjoyed the view.
It was quite a sight as the Arab woman tossed her blouse aside. She looked down at her breasts, gently tucking her hand under one and lifting it an inch or two. It was a wonderful breast, so earthy, so plump, so young and filled with passion. Misty envied the woman her tight yet voluptuous body.
Gypsy walked over to Ali and looked into his face. Then, her hand still lifting her breast, she thrust it toward him. He licked his lips and Misty could see perspiration shining on his upper lip.
"Very nice," he muttered, his voice tight, as it had been earlier with Misty.
She half smiled into his face. "So, you are not ready to partake?"
He shook his head. "I'll watch for a few minutes, if you don't mind." However, he did place his fingers on the breast and then he bowed so that his lips briefly brushed against the nipple. If this turned Gypsy on, she gave no sign.
Instead she came to Misty, still offering the breast. She held it under Misty's face, smiling into her pale blue eyes, her dark look a startling and exciting contrast. "And you, my new and beautiful friend. Are you not interested? You have enjoyed my hospitality here on my yacht up to now. Now we should know one another better on a personal basis."
Misty gulped. "Oh, well, I don't know about that. Uh, what did you have in mind?"
The flirting dark eyes flicked down to the breast. "Why, what I am holding in my hand, of course. Do you not think it is beautiful?"
"Well.. . yes, of course. It's very lovely."
"Then...? "
Misty didn't know what she was supposed to do. She knew that things were tearing loose once again inside her body, that her juices were beginning to flow. Really, this was so out of Arabian Nights that she was turned on. She could feel a moistness start in her pussy, and soon juice was running down the insides of her thighs. She pressed her legs together with the robe between them to soak up some of the passion nectar.
"Perhaps I can examine you," Gypsy said. "From what I have been told by our enthusiastic friend here, you have a figure that is at least as perfect as mine."
Misty shook her head, taking a step back until once again her ass came up against the back of a couch. "Oh, I doubt that, Gypsy. You have a lovely body, from what I've seen. It's no contest between us."
"I will be the judge of that," the dark woman said, plucking at the bodice of Misty's robe, then lowering her hands until she'd opened the sash. The robe drifted open and Misty's breasts swam into view, lovely, white, pink of nipple, high and hard.
Gypsy's gasp filled the room. "Ah, I have seen many American breasts since my arrival in your country, but none to match these. You indeed have two possessions you can be proud of."
Misty flushed, even the roots of her hair tingling. "Well, I don't know what to say. You are very...."
The two Arabs laughed at Misty's discomfort and Ali sat down, making himself comfortable. Misty looked down at her naked breasts and then at Gypsy's mounds. Yes, hers were every bit as good. But she thought it was silly to compare their two bodies. Childish.
She shook her golden head, puzzled. "I wish I could understand what you're trying to do," she said. "I mean, Ali and I are on a date and it's kind of you to offer the use of your yacht. But I don't understand...."
Gypsy lifted her breast until it was right under Misty's nose, and then the dark woman snapped, "Stop this insane prattle. Kiss it at once!"