Chapter 6
Katrina Weiss was nearly prostrate with grief and fear. Her daughter had been gone for over twenty-four hours, but the kibbutz couldn't afford to mount a search. The vote for partition had come in the middle of the night, and immediately, all outposts, kibbutzim, and enclaves of the Jews went on alert. Guards were posted. Field telephones were strung between villages. The children's dormitories were sandbagged first, then the rest of the settlements were fortified. No one, and especially her husband the major, had time for a single lost teenager. At the time Sharon was first missed some of the teenagers had gone out, circling a mile or so from the camp. They'd reported footprints and marks of mules and camels, but there was little hope in that. The traffic of the whole Middle East went through one part or another of Palestine. Five thousand years of traders and nomads and bandits had roved those hills and valleys . . . what good would a few score hoof prints do? Gold and spices, silks and cedar, pasta and matzohs had been crisscrossing the edge of the Negev before the time of Abraham. The teenage search party lost the tracks in a jumble within a mile of where they'd thought Sharon was captured. Katrina went on stuffing sandbags and clearing the trenches of the perimeter like an automaton, her eyes misting for her lost child.
When the women came back into the tent, they looked crestfallen. They moved slowly, but with great care. Neither of them said a word. Sharon could barely imagine the threats Ben had made after he'd left her. In spite of her aches and pains, she felt better as the Arab females brought her water and subserviently began to wash her arms and legs.
Sharon luxuriated in the treatment. The cool touch of water on her limbs made her feel good for the first time since the Arabs had taken her. She tried asking each of the women why she was being cared for, but they shook their heads, unwilling to speak. One of them washed her face carefully, almost ceremoniously, while the other oiled her sunburn. The cool, sleek touch of the aromatic oil eased the pain, soothing Sharon until she felt almost friendly toward the pair.
But only almost. Sharon stood in the center of the tent, the flapping cloth only inches above her head. The memory of near-death on the baking sands outside couldn't be erased by the oils and unguents so lavishly applied to her skin, or by strong-scented pastes drawing the pain from her whip stripes. With every moment, Sharon wondered why they had suddenly decided to treat her better . . . stories other Palestinians told of Arab tortures had never included mercy.
The heavier woman left the tent. Sharon asked the smaller one again, hoping she would speak, but the girl refused to answer. The other woman returned with clothing before Sharon could insist.
The short, vest-like jacket of green-dyed cotton barely covered her breasts. The billowing white cotton pants reached only halfway along her calves. Sharon put them on, glad at last for the shelter of clothes. True, the scents of sandalwood and cedar barely covered the reek of camel that had soaked into the fibers, but even the skimpy vest was better than leaving her seared bosom naked. Sharon took the comb from the smaller woman's hand and stroked her sun-streaked brown hair into a long drape over her shoulders. She felt human again.
The smaller woman gestured to a plate of dates and a jug of water before leaving. Sharon ate and drank, wondering. The tent cooled almost imperceptibly. The quality of light seeping through the cloth told her the sun was sinking.
Sharon's spirits leapt. The heavy rumble of a truck rose, then cut off outside. The asthmatic wheeze and unlubricated squeaks of a car died. It's daddy! They've found me! she thought, and burst through the tent flap.
Sharon was halfway to the car before the Arabs could react. Gamal dove from the paired line of a dozen men and knocked her to the ground. She kicked and struggled, clawing at his face, rolling a knee up at his crotch.
Other hands grabbed. Sharon felt the buttons of her little vest rip. Her bare breasts vibrated with her frantic motions. Three men held her, then dragged her erect to face the sheik.
Sharon drooped in their arms like a dying flower. The men's arms tightened on her body. Her knees buckled. She opened and closed her eyes in mute shock at the sight of the sheik.
He was short, perhaps five-five, with a small, pointed beard on his chin. A two-day stubble covered his cheeks. The sheik's eyes were little pellets of black in his muddy brown face. His eyebrows were flecked with silver, but the traditional band circling his headgear was gold. He wore a belted caftan rather than the loose, hooded djellaba of the tribesmen, and the shiny brown-and-black butt of a Luger projected from a holster under the robe. He glanced briefly at her, measuring Sharon's shapely form, before going down the line of men who still stood to greet him.
Sharon watched him like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake. She stayed limp in the men's arms, unable to move. The sheik kissed and embraced his way closer.
At last he stood in front of Sharon. He checked her again, reaching to pinch one of her nipples painfully. Sharon winced. The tip of her titty throbbed, erecting while he looked over her shoulder at Gamal. "Fifty English pounds." A huge body servant, nearly a foot taller than the sheik, appeared behind him. Coins clinked as the big man delved into a leather bag.
Gamal's voice was the perfect echo of regret. "Ef-fendi, I am truly sorry but she cannot be sold until tomorrow. Your cousin Omar Ibn Muhammad wishes her kept hostage until he determines the truth of her statement concerning the Zionists' armament."
The sheik's dark eyes narrowed evilly. When he spoke, the odor of bananas fried in camel fat floated like swamp gas over Sharon's face. "My cousin, I think, would understand if you sold this woman to me."
The manservant behind the sheik hitched the strap of his cross-slung Mauser. The long rifle looked like a toy on his immense frame.
Gamal was quick to answer. He let go of Sharon's arm and gestured to the tent behind. "Your forgiveness, Sheik, but I offer you the enjoyment of the Zionist's body."
The sheik considered for a long moment. The hands on Sharon's upper arms tightened and relaxed. The Arabs' palms felt sweaty. Sharon's own hands were cold despite the heat of the sun still slanting across the desert. "It shall be," he decided, nodding judiciously. He turned and walked to the tent.
The Arabs let go of Sharon's arms. She fell. The dusty bare feet of the sheik's bodyguard prodded her ribs. Sharon tried to push herself up again, but the tribesmen had to lift her to her feet before she could stumble across the few yards to the open flap of the tent.
The light behind her dimmed when the servant dropped the flap. Sharon saw the sheik standing in the center of the room. He looked back at her, a hint of a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Do you dance?" he asked.
Sharon shook her head.
"Do you speak?" The sheik stood with his arms upraised as the huge servant untied the sash at his waist and removed the sheik's caftan.
Sharon nodded. "I...I speak some Arabic." She tried to remain impassive when she saw the servant remove the gun and holster from the sheik's flowing pants. Her spirits fell when he took the pistol carefully to the far side of the tent and set it delicately atop the folded caftan.
The sheik allowed the servant to remove his tunic and pants. He scratched his balls, his limp cock flapping obscenely up and down. "Prepare me." He stepped out of his sandals and lay on his back on the rug.
Sharon took a half-step toward him. "I don't know how." She looked from the supine sheik to the towering servant. Sharon blinked back tears. It wasn't enough that the Arabs had captured her and raped her every orifice. Now the sheik commanded her to participate. She moved closer again. Her hands rose, as futile as a nestling's wings. "I don't know," she repeated in a thin, near-cracking voice.
"Caress me. Touch me with your hands. Kiss my body with your lips," the sheik said irritably. "You are old enough to be a wife!"
The manservant moved to Sharon's side. He un-slung his rifle and prodded her. Sharon's heart raced. She struggled to control her breathing. Reluctantly, she knelt beside the sheik and reached for his flaccid cock.
The limber organ felt unnaturally cool to the touch. Sharon's gorge rose. She was revolted by the limber, half-dead flopping of the sheik's shaft. She moved her fingers tentatively up and down the stem of his prick, not daring to lift it from his hairy belly. She petted it timidly, as she might pet a jackal guaranteed to be tame.
"Hold me! Rub my balls between your palms!" the sheik snapped. He reached to her tit and pinched her nipple again.
The little bud throbbed with pain. Sharon stifled a squeak. She slowly moved her left hand toward his balls.
The muzzle of the rifle swung up against the underside of her wrist. The small outer bone of her forearm nearly cracked with the dull smash of metal. The gun sight cut a half-inch of flesh from her arm. "Salaam, she is a Jew, and a European," the sheik broke in. The manservant stepped back, still scowling.
The sheik put his hand on her shoulder. He pushed Sharon down toward his cock. She looked at him, still frightened, but questioning. "Kiss me," he smiled. "There is nothing to fear." His stained, twisted teeth looked as fearsome and revolting as his limp, wrinkled organ.
Sharon kept glancing from the corner of her eye. She bent lower over the sheik's middle. She slipped her left hand between his thighs, pushing them open. Slowly, sinuously, she wiggled her fingers up to the damp, sweaty skin of his scrotum. Sharon rolled his balls into the palm of her hand.
The weighty warmth of the mobile eggs felt strangely nice to her hand. Sharon moved her fingers, finding a soft, thick extension of the line of his penis behind the slippery sac. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, Sharon placed a quick peck on the sheik's prick.
With her right hand cradling the stubby length of the limber cock, Sharon grew bolder. She experimented. She ran the tip of her tongue up along the center of his cock, then gently slithered saliva around the sheik's small, shrunken knob. She felt a slight stirring in his prick. Sharon went further.
Sharon put her lips on the very tip of his glans. The sheik shifted his hand to her head. He pressed down. Sharon bent his prick up, holding her thumb in the center of the shaft. She lipped the whole glans, wetting her lips before and after. Slowly, as carefully as she could, she ran her tongue around the still-small shape of the cockhead and dragged her lips back off of it.
A strange feeling of power rose inside her. Sharon felt the sheik's prick beginning to respond to her. Still experimenting, she ran her mouth as far down his cock as she could. Her lips touched, then gathered a tangled mess of cock hairs. She closed her jaw slightly and dragged her teeth up the length of his thickening cock. Sharon felt his hand leave her head as she approached the knob. She scraped her teeth along the curious, wrinkled surface of his glans and looked up, smiling. The sheik's head was bent back, his mouth stretched in a grimace of anticipated pain. As soon as his eyes opened, his face flared with rage.
A sledgehammer blow assaulted her crotch. Sharon tumbled halfway across the tent, her bruised cunt and flayed asscheeks rising over her head as she flew. Upside down in midair, she saw the giant bodyguard's foot still following through. His rifle was already trained on her when she hit the rug and rolled.
"Never again with the teeth," the sheik gasped. He stood and walked to where Sharon lay, his half-hard prick bobbing menacingly. "Never! Never! Never!" he said, his voice rising in pitch and volume. The wiry little man swelled up to regal size. Sharon tried to get to her feet. She reached behind her for support. She was still rising, her knees bent, when the sheik began slapping her.
Whack! his palm cracked on her cheek. Whack! the back of his hand smashed against her other cheek. Sharon's head snapped from side to side. She tried to raise her hands to ward off the blows, but the sheik's slaps smashed her again and again. He was deliberate, slow, and punishingly powerful. Sharon stumbled back. The guard's rifle rose toward her chest.
"Please!" she gasped. "I didn't mean-to hurt you, effendi!" Sharon curled forward, hunching her shoulders. Her breasts rose and fell with sobs. She put her hands up, her forearms sheltering her head. The ringing forehand slaps continued until she dropped to her knees.
Sharon wept. She heard the sheik's footsteps move away from her, then a foot shoved her from behind. She skidded forward onto the rug. The front of her pants slipped down, galling the sore spot at the top of her love mound. She felt a yank, then the waist of the pants tore. She lay sobbing, her ass shaking, naked before both men.
"Bite her. Show the Jew dog your teeth," the sheik snarled. He stood in back of her and watched as the massive guard bent over Sharon's naked ass.
A semicircle of pain found her left buttock and clamped on. Sharon screamed. The teeth locked into her flesh, then worked back and forth, scissoring. The sheik's man was trying to bite a chunk out of her ass, and it felt like he was succeeding. Sharon tried to get her screams under control. She gasped with relief when the teeth loosened, but the respite lasted only a second. The guard immediately bit down on her other cheek, and Sharon grunted with agony. She felt the skin break, and hot blood cascaded onto her burnt skin. The trickle flowed from the plumpest, most sensitive part of the lush hemisphere to the outside, where the beatings had already stripped skin from her hip.
"Enough," the sheik decided after the guard had moved to bite the tender junction of her ass-cheek and thigh. Sharon let herself cry with relief when the teeth finally released her ass. The big nerve that runs down the inside of the thigh had sent horrible twinges along her leg until her toes curled. Sharon lay on her face, shaking with suppressed fear and pain. With a grim knowledge of the flow starting in her pussy, she realized that she had only half-hated the biting. A part of her, the part that seemed to control her body in moments of pain and degradation, enjoyed the humiliating, agonizing gnawing on her asscheeks.
"Bring her to me," the sheik said, and Sharon felt big hands pick her up easily by the waist. She flopped like a rag doll, hardly daring to open her eyes. When she allowed herself to look, she saw the sheik lying on his back at the center of the tent, his prick jutting forward like the barrel of a cannon. It looked huge now, and the head was dark and angry. It looked ready to tear her insides out. Sharon shivered. The prick was out of all proportion to the sheik's body, seemingly twice the size it should have been.
The huge guard turned her upright. Sharon's legs flopped on either side of the sheik's hips. She let her legs collapse as the giant lowered her. The sheik reached down to his crotch.
Sharon closed her eyes. The grossly swollen mass of the sheik's prick stood upright in his fist. The head curved up and forward, like a road sign to his chin. Even the arrowhead indent at the top of the shaft stayed imprinted on her memory. Sharon's neck arched. Her head lolled back. The end of the sheik's cock touched the rim of her cunthole.
Now, now that she'd kissed and licked and fondled his prick, now the head was hot. Sharon shuddered at the warm touch. The head felt satiny against the smooth slickness of her juicing pussy. She lolled limp as a broken puppet in the giant bodyguard's arms. The bony center of the cockhead pressed against the front rim of her channel and skidded up across her clit. The inner labia peeled slickly back and the erected nubbin was bare to the hot, slippery touch. Sharon felt it like a flood of ice water in her veins. She moaned. Her thighs scissored shut reflexively. The sheik's hips were trapped between her long, luscious legs.
By his master's expression, the guard knew that the sheik's shaft had missed the cuntal target. He lifted Sharon by the armpits and moved her forward. Sharon felt her ass swing an inch, perhaps two, and the thick glans speared at her cunt ring.
The feeling was cruelly lascivious. The slippery center of her slit was sopping with cunt cream. Sharon's inner labia felt swollen, rich with blood and heat, and the enraged puffiness only increased when the sheik's cockhead touched her pussy. She shivered and moaned. Her knees moved closer together. The guard let go of her armpits. Sharon fell forward onto the sheik's chest.
The hairs on his washboard chest felt like rasps on her raw, irritated breasts. Her nipples poked into him, stiffening instantaneously at the touch. Sharon gasped, dragging a huge breath into her lungs. The warm, dry desert air felt like a Chicago winter to her overheated body. Her whole frame contracted around her lungs and the stretching mouth of her pussy. Sharon's vagina gushed a fresh flood of juice, and she began to move.
She couldn't help herself. The brutal blows of the sheik's bodyguard and the still-flaming imprints of his teeth on her ass had aroused her even beyond terror. Sharon's hips rolled forward and back, taking a little more of the sheik's prick with each lusty stroke. A tiny part of her stunned mind marveled at the rigid strength of the prick that had been so limp so soon before.
But even more marvelous was the rapid increase of swampiness in her cunt. Sharon's vagina sucked at the sheik's prick. Even without the steady, rolling rhythm of her hips, her cunthole alone could have sucked the sheik's cylinder into her channel. Sharon felt fantastically lewd ripples coursing up and down her cuntwalls, and every lusty shiver drew more meat into her pussy. She gripped the sheik' shoulders. Sharon shuddered. She slowly sat upright.
Her breasts felt heavy. Sharon moved her upper body in a slow, spiraling motion that made the ripe mounds sway seductively. Sharon's whole body heated gradually. A thin film of glossy sweat glistened all over her voluptuous body.
Sharon was the very picture of lust. Her pink-brown aureoles rose and fell in lewd crinkles. Her nipples poked forward like tiny twin gun turrets.
Her long hair floated down her back. When she leaned back, savoring the deeper penetration of the sheik's cock, her mouth opened in a soundless moan of lewd enjoyment. Sharon slid her hands down the sheik's chest. Her fingernails furrowed the brown skin. She ran her hands up the long, lusty slopes of her inner thighs and parted her cuntlips. The button of her hot clitty stood out like a pearly-pink pencil stub. She slithered her other hand down and moved the sheik's fingers away. With a sigh of contentment, Sharon rubbed her cunt-wet fingertips up and down the sides of the sheik's stem. She rose a fraction of an inch, and the wide flare of his knob slipped out of her cunt ring. The little muscle kissed at the tip of his prick. Sharon hissed as she slid down the hard pole. She swiveled, and the stiff rod screwed into her pussy like a bolt homing into a greased nut.
With half his prick wedged deep in Sharon's cunt, the sheik held still. He lay like a lusty statue. Even while Sharon's delicate fingers tugged his prick skin back and forth, the sheik concentrated on remaining perfectly immobile. With the sundry wonders of his home harem, he'd had plenty of practice. Even so, Sharon's cuntal grip made it difficult.
The hot blush on Sharon's delicious tits had spread to her belly. A whole vee'ing zone glowed even redder than her sunburn. The rosy tone smeared slowly further down her body. It reached from her throat to her navel, pinkening at the edges, flowing wider and deeper. She reached around his cock with both hands. Sharon pulled the cock skin slickly back and rotated further onto him.
The sucking sound of her opening cunthole slurped slowly down onto the sheik's cock. Sharon's fingers moved up and down, oscillating between the base of his cockshaft and the puffy swamp of her pussylips. She pried her labia apart, striving to get more of his hot cock into her slit.
Sharon rotated her hips in tiny circles. The lascivious wonder of the feeling was a welcome change from her brutal beating. She opened her eyes and stared at the huge bodyguard, daring him to become aroused while he watched her. From the feelings in her cunt at the moment, Sharon could have taken on the whole Arab camp and loved every pulsating second of the gang fuck. She bent forward. Her hair fell over her face, shrouding her from the guard's impassive stare. Sharon worked at getting the rest of the sheik's prick lodge in her dripping cunthole.
But even that joy would have to wait. Sharon flexed her thighs and rose an inch or two. The sheik's cock was the thickest she'd yet felt She moved up until the wide, barbed head tugged at the inside of her cunt ring again. With a little moan of delight, Sharon jiggled up and down. Her pussy mouth memorized the exact shape and size of the Arab chieftain's glans. Her talented sphincter ringed the narrow neck of his cock like a collar, squeezing down from the width of the head-ridge, narrowing on the oval of the thinnest portion of male meat. Sharon decided that she -liked the shape of a male prick-especially when it was in her cunt.
"She is a gifted woman," the sheik said grudgingly. He thrust his hips upward, but Sharon only let his prick take another inch. The same sense of power she'd felt when his limp weapon rose to partial stiffness grew inside her. She had the man beneath her in her power, even if it only lasted a few minutes. Sharon decided to make it last as long as she could.
But the passion in the pit of her pussy was growing by leaps and bounds. Sharon wanted more and more to feel the total impalement that would let her clitty grind against his lower belly. She bobbed in short, sharp, jerky strokes. The knob was still in that sensitive lower third of her cunt, where she could really, truly feel the shape and the heat of the glans. She was torn between the exquisite feeling of his knob at her pussy's entrance and her knowledge of clitoral satisfaction.
Sharon didn't know what to do about it. She bobbed and cried, and the lusty weight of her gyrating hips decided for her. With a slow, almost evilly sensuous slide, she slithered down the thick mass of meat until the nerves in her belly lost track of the flaring head of the sheik's pussy-pleasing prick.
So much juice had coated his prick that Sharon felt her cunt accelerating on the downward slide. She half-tried to slow herself down, but the magnetism between the sheik's pubes and her own throbbing clitty drew her down relentlessly. Every millimeter of cock slipped more easily, more pleasingly, into her cunt.
The sheik unlaced his fingers from behind his head. He reached up. Cindy's blushing, sunburned tits were the obvious target. They hung in front of him like delicious pink desserts, topped with some exotic, erogenous fruit that any man would love to taste. He slipped his palms over the proud crowns of her tits. His thumbs lifted and separated her cleavage. He twisted his hands like a radioman tuning in a distant station. The sweaty slickness of his palms made her nipples send radioactive waves of joyous heat along Sharon's nerves. She arched her back, presenting her tits more fully to the smiling sheik.
There was much more than two handfuls of tit. The sheik spread his fingers wide to capture the bountiful globes. His fingertips sought and dug into the ricliness of the sides. His thumbs ran from the underswell, up between, and straight to her nipples. He teased across the blunt, rubbery spikes of her titty-tips, and Sharon moved faster.
The intense thrill of the sensuous manipulations made Sharon lose the sifting, circling rhythm she'd strived so hard to establish. She pressed her hips down hard, and the hairy arch of his pubic bone met the puffy pad of her cuntlips. Sharon gasped. Her clitty began levering around in the soft nest of cunt flesh, and ripples of rangy hunger riveted her clit to his belly. She'd taken fully a third of his cock in one swift cuntal gulp, and now Sharon had to put up with the spine-tingling shock of the delightful penetration.
Sharon took her hands from her pussy. She pressed her palms against his chest and bore down.
She lifted herself partway off his prick, then jammed her cunt back down.
The force of her stroke turned her cuntlips inside out. Sharon hissed with pleasure as her labia tried to ride up into the center of her cunt. The tight, sloshing ring of her cunt-mouth stretched even further. Her vulva twisted. She reversed directions.
Sharon rose only far enough to let the frilly inner petals slip out before she started down onto his prick again. The sheik's cock felt hard as an iron bar in her cunt, and as durable. She felt a weird resolve grow in her belly. With her downward slide, Sharon knew she would wear out that cock before she stopped. Even though the sheik lay still under her, his only motion the twitching of his knob inside the tight sleeve of her cunt, Sharon would make that meaty bar melt before she finished fucking him. She ground her hips in a torrid circle. Sharon meshed her pubes with his.
The sheik gasped. The wet heat of Sharon's cuntwalls churned around him. The slippery tube fit his cock like a glove full of butter. He felt the heat of her spread cuntlips burning through his coarse black cock-bush into his belly. The sheik lifted his hips and let Sharon ride for all she was worth.
And even in Arabic, she was worth a lot. Sharon rocked forward, then back again. She rubbed the hot little button of her clit against the front of his pelvis. Her fingers clawed into his chest, spasming every time the hard, hot head of the sheik's cock nudged past her womb. With a shudder of delight, Sharon realized she was ready to come. She arched her back and let the overloaded nerves of her pussy move her body with huge waves of pleasure.
Sharon leaned back. Her long hair all but touched the sheik's shins. The wavy brown curtain of hair rippled. Sharon shook her head. Her mouth opened wide, dragging in air to fuel the glorious reaction taking place in her cunt. Ecstasy overwhelmed her. Sharon let go, floating on a cloud of delirious joy.
The sheik watched her writhe. The regular, even-spaced ripples of her cuntwalls wrung out his cock. His royal balls were fully charged with sperm but he held off, wondering if the teenaged Zionist could keep going. His whole crotch ached with the effort, but he held off. The sheik wouldn't allow himself to send the steaming load up into her cunt in spite of the furious heat of her frothing pussy.
Sharon loved the incredible wet slipperiness of the junction of their bodies. The Arab's whole crotch was soaked with her cunt cream. Her ass slipped and slid on his thighs like a duck on ice skates. She struggled to gain a fraction of control over her clasping cunt. She forced herself down from her frenzied peak, more determined than ever to wring the jizz from the sheik's balls.
Sharon arched her back. The backward slant of her torso forced the sheik's knob against the front of her belly. The motion of the cockhead showed as a traveling lump under the smooth red skin of her belly. She pulled her hand up across the wet, gaping stripe of her cunt, past her clitty, through the wet mass of her cunt-hairs. She rubbed the surging tip of the sheik's cock with both palms. He tensed, and
Sharon knew he was just seconds away from filling her innards with hot, thick semen.
The sheik slipped his hands behind Sharon. He cupped the ripe mounds of her ass. The flood of cunt-juice had greased the luscious globes until they . were almost impossible to grip. His finger rambled lustily over the smooth surfaces. He pressed her cheeks together. Her cunt tightened on the base of his prick. The sheik kneaded her ass. He let go of his rigid immobility and began to stroke back and forth in her cunt.
Sharon straightened. She still pressed her fingers against the moving bulge of cock at the front of her torso. Her belly indented under her hands. She rose and fell, wrapping hot friction around the sheik's cock. Every motion made her orgasm build higher, but Sharon refused to let her cunt take control of her body again.
Her pink tits swayed with her motions. The lush mounds quivered each time her clitty hit bottom against the sheik's pelvis. Sharon responded to the hinting pressure of his fingers on her ass by rising and falling. Her tits responded to the motions by sending hot jiggles of excitement through her nerves. She moved faster. Sharon's mouth stayed open. Her eyelids went up like window shades. She stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but the sheets of orgasmic color that filled her brain.
The sheik kept on with his lewd caresses. He urged her on with sinuous motions of his fingers. He quickened the pace until her cunt worked up and down on his cock like a concave jackhammer. The sheik shoved his cock brutally up into Sharon's guts. She sobbed with pleasure.
Sharon panted and jiggled on the thick impaler like a madwoman. She tightened her cunt like a wet fist on the sheik's shaft. Sharon shimmied. She shivered. Her ass moved only fractions of an inch, but she moved it like lightning. The tips of her nipples blurred with motorized speed of her quivering moves. Sharon began to beg the Arab to come.
"Oh, now, come on, come on, you big, thick bastard," she whispered. Her voice hissed. Spittle floated off her lips. "Move it, move it good, Sheik! Move that good thing, shake me, ram me, jam me, baby! You gotta, you gotta, you gotta do it! You gotta do all of it, Sheik! You gotta shoot, you gotta shoot hard!" She gasped for air, still mumbling, still shaking, still grinding her clit mercilessly against the base of his belly. Sharon tried to take longer strokes, but her muscles were beyond control. She quivered. Her ass moved in stutters. Sharon struggled up until only the very tip of his prick was still inside her cunt. She milked the knob with the constricting band of her cunt ring.
The sheik gritted his teeth. He strained to hold his seed in. Her pussy worked furiously to drag it out. He swiveled his hips in a sharp series of tight circles. He reamed the swampy cunt flesh until his cockhead burned. He clenched his hands on Sharon's ass. His fingers bruised the opulent cheeks. The sheik let his seed shoot.
Sharon screamed. She drove herself down onto his prick. The mass of spewing meat split her cunt like a nail splits a pine plank. She writhed desperately on his pistoning cock. Her limbs flexed. She ground at his pubic arch.
The sheer power of her orgasm was agonizing. Sharon's mind shredded. The earth-shattering sensations consumed her. Sharon's clasping cunt tried to lock around the sheik's cock forever.
Powerful, ripping blasts of pleasure blasted along the whole length of the sheik's prick. He could feel the heavy pulses of jism start at the front edge of his asshole and rocked right to the tip of his cock and beyond. He drove his shaft upward, hoping to split the Jew's belly with the force of his cockspew. His knob beat against her womb. The nerves in his prickhead were so overloaded that the sheik didn't care if Sharon's cunt ripped the spurting organ from his loins. Her crotch was soaked with juices, both hers and his. The raging flow finally faded to trickles.
Sharon ground at the sheik's cock long after the viscous jets had faded away. She gleamed all over with the hot, aromatic fuck sweat of her lusty exertions. She teetered like a half-cut tree, then collapsed. Her breasts mashed into his chest. Tremors of spent sensuality rippled through her body. Sharon closed her eyes again and lay still.