I'd had a fare that needed to get to the airport, and after dropping them off, I'd gotten into line to wait my turn for a fare to take back into town. Just for a change of pace, the timing was such that I was pretty sure to catch the tail end of the 'busy' period at the airport and get something fairly quickly so that I could finish up for the day.
My estimation of the situation proved to be pretty good, and the line of us cabbies moved forward fast enough that none of us had time to get out and bullshit with each other.
As I got close to being at the head of the line, I couldn't help noticing that there was what looked like a Middle-Eastern couple exiting the baggage area – I mean, his burnoose and her headdress kind of stood out in the crowd, and seemed like pretty reliable indicators of where they were from, you know?
I thought that one of the cabs ahead of me in line was going to get them, but something happened that had a couple of other sets of people move ahead of them before they got queued up again. I was still surprised, though, when it worked out that I got them as fares. While some of my fellow cabbies had 'personal issues' with people of different types, I didn't share any of their foibles; I just hopped out and did my best to help them with their luggage and get them settled in the back before heading back into town. Once I'd cleared the airport, I asked where they were headed, and the guy gave me the name of one of the better hotels in town. I assured him I knew right where it was, and turned my attention to my driving.
The airport is kind of far out of town, so I had plenty of time to take a look at the two of them – particularly after they started talking to each other in what I can only guess was Arabic. The thing was that the tone of their conversation told me that something was going on between them: even discounting my ignorance of the language they were speaking, he still sounded like he wasn't too happy about something, and she sounded like she was trying to placate him – but not having a lot of success at it. He looked pretty much like the stereotypical Arab: somewhat dark complexion, dark eyes, goatee, and all the rest. On the other hand, she didn't look quite like the TV images I'd seen of women from that part of the world; it wasn't anything that I could put my finger on, though. None the less, she was definitely a looker with a pretty face and absolutely beautiful dark eyes. Again, I can only guess, but I figured that he was likely in his late 40's while she looked to be a good 15 years younger.
Still, my job was to drive a cab for them, and I pretty much kept my attention on the road and not them – at least until I heard what could only have been the sound of a slap. A quick look in the mirror told me that she'd been on the receiving end of it: there was a distinct hand-print on one of her cheeks, and she'd turned about as pale as anyone I'd ever seen. I didn't care for that much, but I wasn't a cop or in the marriage counseling business, so I kept my mouth shut.
Several minutes later, they started talking again, and it sounded to me like he was starting in on her again: his was the louder voice, and his tone seemed to make it pretty clear that he was considerably less than pleased about whatever it was they were talking about. Again, she seemed to be doing her best to settle him down, and my impression was that he wasn't interested.
The rest of the ride into town, the two of them kept going, off and on: they'd sit back there quiet as could be for a few minutes, then they'd be at it for a minute or so before they got quiet again.
We were almost to their hotel, and I was thinking that I was going to be damn glad to be rid of them when I heard another noise from the back – except that it sounded a lot worse than when he'd slapped her.
Another look in the mirror let me see that whatever he'd done, it had resulted in a cut on her lip that was visibly bleeding even when I saw it.
That was all I needed to see. A minute later, when we pulled up to their hotel, I dropped the flag and turned around to ask her "Ma'am? Would you like some help?"
She just looked at me for a couple of seconds before he tried to start in on me, all but yelling "You do not speak to her! She is my wife, and it is not proper! You have no right to speak to her!"
Trying to stay calm, I turned to him and answered "I don't care who she is to you – it isn't right for you to hit her like that."
"You do not tell me what I can do! I tell you, she is my wife, and in my country I can do what I want with her!"
"Yeah, well, you aren't IN your country now, pal, so you better knock it off before you find your ass in jail", I answered, before turning to her again and asking "Ma'am? Do you speak English? Would you like to get away from him, so he doesn't hit you any more?"
I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when I heard her Chicago-accented "Yes, I understand you quite well – I'm an American, actually. My name is Saleh, and yes, I would like to leave so that I don't get beaten again."
Hearing that, he damn near lost it, and rattled off a long spiel at her while she just sat there looking at him and not saying a word. When he finally ran down, even I could hear the bitterness in her voice as she finally gave him a piece of her mind. It didn't take long for her to say what she wanted to, and when she was done, I thought he was going to blow a gasket right there in my hack. When he finally got it together again, he started to reach for the door handle, but I quickly hit the electric locks before telling him "You don't go anywhere, buddy, until you pay the fare" and pointing to the meter. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me – I was kind of hoping he would, so I could get his ass tossed in jail for a while – but he calmed down enough to fork over the fare. I unlocked the doors again, and as he started to get out, I asked her "Ma'am, do you have anyplace to go? Friends? Family? Can I take you to another hotel? If you want, I can take you to an abused women's shelter, where they can protect you."
She managed a wan smile before answering "No, I don't have any family or friends here. The shelter won't be necessary; I can call my parents, and they'll send me some money for a hotel for tonight. I can go home to them tomorrow, I think."
"It's up to you if you just want me to take your someplace so you can make your call and wait until you get the money from your folks, or there's something else you'd rather do. I'll be glad to take you to a police station if you want to swear out a complaint, and I don't have any problem with being a witness for you. Wherever you want to go, I'll be glad to take you there for free."
She considered it for a few moments before telling me "No, there's no need for the police, now. What you heard him telling me was that he is going to divorce me when he gets back home. I don't have any money or credit cards with me because he insisted on controlling all of our money – so I couldn't afford even so much as a cup of coffee while I wait. My real worry is his family: there are several of them in this city, and it could happen that they would look for me with the idea of beating me for insulting him and them by speaking with you, and acting against him."
"I'll tell you what – you stay here while I get his stuff unloaded, and then I can take you to a coffeeshop or someplace and wait with you until you hear back from your family. I mean, if that isn't an imposition, or something that would cause you or your family offense."
She gave me a pleased smile, and answered "No, I or my family wouldn't be offended, and I would welcome your company."
"Okay, that's what we'll do, then" I told her before moving to get out and get her now-ex-husbands stuff out of the trunk.
He wanted to take all of the luggage, and was pretty adamant about it until I asked him if he planned to start wearing her underwear. I thought his head might explode before he relented and pointed out a couple of bags that I could re-load. I didn't figure she'd traveled all that distance planning to stay in the stuff she had on, and was glad that I was able to get at least some of her clothes back.
After he turned away from me and headed into the hotel, I quickly stowed her luggage in the trunk and got back behind the wheel to get us the hell away from there.
I called in to let Central know I was going off-duty, and once I'd gotten the acknowledgment, headed for one of the chain restaurants where I knew they wouldn't mind having us around for however long it would probably take for her to hear back from her folks. When we got there, I told her that I had a small first-aid kit in my cab, and asked if she needed or wanted to use it. She graced me with a small smile before answering "No, there's nothing I need anything like that for. All I need to do is clean up a little, and I'll be fine."
With that settled, the two of us went inside, where she would only let me spring for a cup of coffee before she headed to the ladies room. When she got back, she had not only cleaned her face off, but shed the headdress she'd been wearing – revealing a lovely head of long, luxuriously black hair. She still had on the rest of the outfit she'd been wearing, and it somehow made her even more attractive even as it did a fine job of hiding whatever shape she had underneath.
When she sat down across from me, the first thing she said to me was "Before anything else, I want to thank you for all you have done to help me. Ever since we were married, he has hurt me more and more, and I was afraid that it would never end. When you not only told him to stop hitting me, but offered to help me and get me away from him, I knew that I was saved."
I had to ask "Why were you even married to him in the first place?"
She gave me a wry smile before explaining that her parents had emigrated to the U.S. before she'd been born, and had made every effort to become a part of American society while maintaining ties to other immigrants from their homeland. She'd grown up comfortable in both cultures, and when she'd graduated college, she'd only hesitantly accepted the idea of an arranged marriage after it was suggested by her parents – who, she'd found out later, had felt pressured to propose it to her by the less assimilated members of their immigrant community. They hadn't been real wild about the idea, it being contrary to the American ways they'd learned to appreciate; they'd hoped that she was American enough to reject the idea, letting them off the hook. What they hadn't anticipated was how much of their native culture and customs she'd absorbed while growing up. It wasn't until after she'd married someone from 'home' and started suffering his abuse that she and they had actually talked about what had happened – and by that time, it was too late, and there were simply too many people expecting her to 'reclaim her heritage', not knowing what was happening between her and her husband. She explained to me that with what had happened in my cab, and his declared intent to divorce her on his return home, she was actually something of a non-person – not yet actually divorced, but because of what he'd said, she wasn't considered to be actually married, either. I could see that she was still a bit overwhelmed and saddened by it all, and did my best to try and comfort her, and even cheer her up a bit. Along the way, she asked my help in finding a reasonably priced place to stay so that she wouldn't have to ask her parents for too much money; rather than pry, I simply gave her the details of several places I knew of across a range of prices.
I'd managed to draw a small laugh from her – a delightful sound – before she decided that it was time to call her parents. After she left to use the pay phone I could see from our booth, I got the attention of our server and ordered supper for both of us. She didn't spend too much time on the phone, and had just sat down again when the spaghetti I'd ordered arrived. She started to object, and I simply told her "I would usually be having supper about this time; it has been a long day for me, and I'm hungry. I wouldn't be comfortable eating while you just had coffee, so I ordered something for both of us."
By taking the responsibility onto myself and presenting her with a fait accompli, I hoped that she'd be willing to accept it – after what she'd said about not having any money or credit cards, I had the suspicion that her pride was getting in the way of being sensible. I watched her face as she debated it with herself before she told me "This is the first time I've gotten to have pasta in a long time. Thank you", and picking up a fork.
As we ate, she told me that she'd been able to reach her parents, and that they would be wiring her enough money for a hotel room and a train ticket home. It would take a couple of hours for it to get to her, and she asked if I would be willing to keep her company until she could pick it up. I assured her that I would be delighted to spend the time in the company of a pretty girl such as herself, and she graced me with a lovely smile.
When our dishes had been cleared away, the two of us sat there and I listened as she told me what her life had been like after she'd married. Despite all the assurances she'd received beforehand, and how lovely and elaborate the marriage itself had been, it hadn't taken her long to realize that life in her husbands country and her 'parent' culture weren't going to be all that she'd thought. Her wedding night had been both painful and embarrassing – her husband hadn't been patient or gentle in the slightest, and she hadn't even fully recovered from the experience when his family was being shown the bloodied sheet of her wedding bed as proof of her "virtue and honor". Then, in the weeks and months that followed, she came to realize just how constrained her life was to become: growing up in America, she found, her parents had let her pass on so many of the restrictions and limitations women lived under in their native land. While she could have theoretically gone to the U.S. Embassy as an American citizen and tried to make arrangements to return, as a practical matter, she couldn't get anywhere near the place without the help/approval of a male member of her husbands family. The only people she could have unsupervised contact with were other females – and those were either of her husbands family, or so imbued with the culture and customs as to be useless. On top of that, her husbands own habits and personality further limited her options: he allowed her only extremely limited amounts of cash, and her infrequent shopping trips with other women were accomplished with his credit cards which he monitored very closely. For all intents and purposes, she was a prisoner in her husbands home and granted only extremely limited privileges.
And as if that wasn't enough, she was also subject to whatever physical abuse her husband wanted to heap on her. If she did anything to upset him, the best she could hope for was simply to be slapped; there had been a few times, however, where he'd actually beaten her – though not to the point of needing medical attention (which, she explained, would have actually diminished his status: beating a wife was okay; beating her until she needed a doctor wasn't). Their "married life" (it took me a bit to understand she was referring to the physical part of the marriage) consisted of his efforts to cause her to produce a son, without concern about her. Those efforts had been frequent and vigorous at first, but as time passed without the desired results, he became less and less interested in her (much to her relief). What she confided in me (with admonitions that it should never get back to her parents) was that the few reservations she'd had about the entire situation had been enough that she'd had her doctor fit her with an IUD for birth control before the marriage; she'd wanted to hold off on children until the marriage was 'stable', and the absence of children was one of a very few consolations she had about the entire experience. One of the other things that I learned was that she'd spent the entire time since the marriage in her husbands country; this had been her first trip back to the U.S. in several years.
The entire time she was telling me all this, I expressed my sympathy and understanding and appreciation of it all to give her as much support and encouragement that she'd done the right things as I could. Inside, however, I cycled between disgust, anger, and horror. Hearing about all she'd been through only made me that much more relieved and happy that I'd done what I had.
By the time she was ready to see if the money from her parents was available, I could see that she'd managed to purge herself of at least some of all the assorted crap that had been weighing her down: she was visibly more relaxed and calm than she'd been when I first saw her in my cab. A quick check of a phone book told me where I could find the wire transfer service her parents had told her, and it was less than half an hour later that she had cash in her hand. From there, it was a fairly quick trip to the hotel that she'd opted for – a decent middle-class kind of place. The only ID she had was her passport, and the hotel was initially reluctant to give her a room without some means of guaranteeing any additional charges, like phone calls and the like. When I gave the desk clerk my ID and a credit card, though, that was enough.
I'd set her bags down on the floor of her room, and was about to leave when she turned toward me and said "Thank you, Jim, for everything."
"I'm happy I was able to help, Saleh. Nobody should have to put up with that kind of nonsense, and I'm glad that you have a chance to be happy now."
She moved to stand in front of me, and I wasn't particularly surprised when she hesitantly put her arms around me and gave me a hug which I softly returned. What practically floored me was when it went from being a soft, chaste hug to having her holding me tightly enough to damn near cut off my breathing, and crying into my chest in great wracking sobs. All I could do was put my arms around her and gently hold her while I offered words of comfort and reassurance. What really threw me, though, was the feel of her body against mine: underneath the shapeless sack she was wearing, I could detect a medium-sized frame with all the usual parts in the usual proportions – all in all, she made for a nice little bundle in my arms, and I couldn't help but start to react to the feel of her body against mine. Still, I knew she was at a delicate point in all kinds of ways, and simply turned my body a little so that she wasn't pressing (as much, at least) against my semi-erect penis while I continued to try and get her settled down.
We must have stayed there like that for a good fifteen minutes: she'd settle down a bit, and then the whole thing would start up all over again. Her crying was frequent and hard enough that the entire chest of my shirt was wet before she'd calmed down enough to relax her hold on me. Even then, it was still a while longer before I heard her tell me "I… I'm sorry to cry on you like this, but when I started to hug you, I was just trying to let you know I appreciate everything you've done to help me. But when I looked around this room, I suddenly realized that I was finally back in my own country, and that I was truly free again – that I didn't have to worry that people were spying on me, or that I was going to be hurt because of some bullshit honor thing, or any of the other crap I've had to live with for so long. Then everything that's happened just hit me, and I lost it."
"It's okay, dear", I assured her. "I kinda figured it was something like that."
It wasn't until she tilted her head to look up at me that I realized that I'd used the endearment; I was looking into her red, puffy, and still beautiful eyes when she asked me "Why did you call me that?"
Apologetically, I told her "I hope you'll forgive me, but after everything that has happened, I can't help but feel at least a little bit of affection for you." Seeing the expression on her face, I hastened to say "No, I'm not saying I'm madly in love with you, or that I want us to run off together, or that I think we should spend the rest of our lives with each other; just that after hearing all that you've been through, and holding you while you cried, I can't help but feel a little protective of you. And along with all the rest of that, you're a very pretty young lady."
She considered that for a few moments before telling me "Okay, I can understand that. I mean, having your arms around me is making me feel like I'm being protected, now."
She looked into my face for a few more seconds before letting her head rest against me again.
I was perfectly willing to stand there and hold her for as long as she wanted me to – both to let her hold on to that protected feeling she'd mentioned, and for the simple pleasure of feeling her body against mine.
A bit later, I heard her softly ask "After you've been so generous to me… and so patient and understanding… and not judging me for what happened to me… would you do one more thing for me?"
"If I can", I answered, thinking she wanted some small favor or other – only to be amazed when she asked "Would… would you show me what it's like to be loved by a man?"
After getting her pried loose from me, I held her by the shoulders at arms length when I asked her "Are you asking me to be with you… physically?"
I could see the nervousness and fear (of rejection?) in her eyes as she answered "Yes, that's what I'm asking. All I have ever known has been… him… and I'm sure that it's supposed to be better than that! But I'm afraid, too – that what I had with him has ruined me for other men; that I'll never know pleasure or happiness because of what he has done with me. You know that I'm not a virgin now, but that also means that no one will have to know if you will do that for me. Please, Jim… you have already been so gentle and patient with me – could you help me find comfort that way, too? I could… feel you, when you were holding me, so I think maybe you think I'm pretty enough…"
Over the years, I'd been on the receiving end of all manner of questions, requests, offers, and outright propositions – but hearing that from her was definitely a first. If I hadn't been aware of how she'd gotten to that point, I'd likely have taken her up on it in a skinny minute; but I did know, and I was all too aware of what kind of emotional and psychological shape she was in just then. I certainly thought she was pretty enough, and didn't doubt for a moment that the body I'd felt against mine would be just as appealing. It was my ethics and morals that were keeping me from closing the door behind me and fulfilling her request. That left me standing there trying to decide just what the hell to do as my desire and compassion battled each other.
I could see her getting more and more nervous and fearful, and finally got the front part of my brain working well enough to mediate between my compassion and desire.
Looking into her eyes, I asked "Saleh, a lot has changed for you today. Are you sure that you want this to happen? And now?" My conscience demanded that I give her the chance to call it off, at least once.
She stood a little straighter, and I could hear the certainty in her voice as she answered "Yes, much has changed. But ever since I was married, I have dreamed that I would know hope and happiness; and each time he was with me, I lost some of that dream, and I was afraid a little more. Today, because of you, I have my dreams again. Will you not help me lose the fear, too?"
I ignored her question in favor of asking one of my own: "If your married life was difficult with him, what makes you think that it might be better with me?" I had to know if there was any chance that we'd actually accomplish anything, or if the whole deal would just end up with hurt and frustration.
I saw her eyes flicker from the directness of what I'd asked; she was just as direct when she replied "When I could feel you, while you were holding me… you were being so gentle and considerate… that I could imagine what you would be like that way, and I began to feel my own desire."
Hearing that threw me for a few moments before I could ask "What would you have me do with you?" If anything was going to happen between us, I damn sure didn't want to push her too hard – so I needed to get at least some idea of where the line was. Still, I wasn't prepared to hear her say "I only know about one thing, from him. But before I married him, I knew that there are a lot of other things that a man and woman can do together. If you will teach me, I want to learn about them."
That was a pretty open-ended response, to be sure; but I didn't figure that I'd be suggesting anything too outrageous to her. The last thing I needed to be sure of was that she really was open to the idea of physical intimacy with me. I addressed that question by gently guiding her to stand in front of me, then softly cupping her face in my hands while I tilted my head down and chastely kissed her on the lips.
It wasn't but a moment before she had her hands in my hair as she kissed me back, moving even closer to me so that her body was touching mine.
When our lips parted, we looked into each others eyes as I told her "Saleh, if you think that I could make being with a man a good thing for you, then I will consider it a priveledge to try."
She smiled and nodded as I saw tears of what I thought were happiness begin to well up in her eyes; but she quickly got control of herself and told me "Thank you, Jim" with quiet sincerity.
That settled, I released her so that I could turn around to close and lock the door that I'd left open – I'd only expected to be there for as little time as possible, and had left it open so as to avoid giving her any cause for concern, little suspecting what would happen instead…
As I was doing that, I couldn't help but wonder if closing the door wouldn't cause her to have second thoughts; but when I turned to face her again, she looked every bit as certain as she'd been before. As we looked at each other, I took the opportunity to tell her "If we are going to do this, then I want you to know that I am not going to 'push' you to do anything, or be angry or upset with you if there's something you don't want to do – I'm not that kind of person, anyway. You've said that you would like to learn from me, and I am perfectly willing to help you discover those things that you want to learn. But if it happens that I start to teach something you don't want to learn, you only have to say so, and that will be the end of it. You are an intelligent, good, and very pretty young lady, and all I want is that you enjoy what happens between us, and think kindly of me when our time is finished."
I saw her gain a little confidence at hearing that, and listened as she answered "Thank you, again, Jim. From everything you've said and done, I know that I don't have to worry about what happens while I'm with you. I'll admit that I'm still a little bit nervous, and even afraid – not because of you, but because of me. Don't be afraid to offer me things to learn, and don't think that you have to worry about hurting or frightening me. I'm sure that I want to do this, and I know that I CAN do it, if you'll help me."
After that, she stepped forward a bit and took me by the hand to lead me over to the bed. Turning to face me again, she looked up at me and smiled as she said "Please, Jim… help me learn that I don't have to be afraid any more."
After I softly kissed her forehead, which surprised her, I replied "I would be honored. Can I start by taking that… whatever-it-is off of you?"
She shook her head 'no', and crossed her arms as she reached down to take hold of it. Pulling it up over her head, she rid herself of it and revealed that she'd been wearing very modest street clothes underneath. Only then did I realize how uncomfortable she must have been in it – not just that day, but all the time she'd had to spend dressed that way in the heat of the Middle East. When she'd tossed the thing off to the side with a self-satisfied flourish, she looked at me again to say "The first one of those that I ever wore was put on me by women in his family. Now I'm taking off the last one of them I'll ever wear!"
Hearing that, I understood that that simple act was her way of declaring her independence, and reclaiming her freedom. I made a small show of applauding her – causing her to blush – before taking her hands in mine and kissing them. When I was done, she mischievously told me "Now, if there's anything else you want to take off of me, that's up to you…"
Looking at the long-sleeved blouse she was wearing, and the ankle-length skirt below it, I couldn't spot any kind of fasteners. I softly put my hands on her shoulders, and she let me gently guide her to turn around; as my limited experience with women's clothing had me believe, the back of the blouse had the buttons, while the zipper for the skirt was similarly located. When I reached for the top of the blouse, Saleh tilted her head forward and pulled her hair out of the way; that gave me the opportunity to softly kiss the back of her neck. She shivered faintly and turned her head to give me a pleased smile before I started working my way down the buttons of the blouse. I'd gotten half of them undone when the blouse parted enough for me to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. That discovery had all kinds of Evil Thoughts running through my mind, but I maintained both my composure and the pace I was working at: I'd said I wanted to make our time good for her, and I was determined not to screw it up.
When I'd finished with the last of the buttons, it was easy enough to slip the bottom of the blouse out of her skirt; my next considered action was to slip my hands underneath the material of it and slide them around her until my palms were resting between her breasts and her navel. My thinking was that it was better to ease into intimacy with her, rather than heading straight for the fun bits. When she put her hands on mine, I leaned forward a bit and used my chin to nudge the collar of the blouse out of the way so that I could kiss her on the shoulder. That small act earned me a soft moan, so I repeated it on the other side, with much the same result. Only then did I move my hands a little to softy caress her belly – carefully staying away from her breasts – for a few moments before bringing my hands around to her sides, then finally easing the blouse off her shoulders and then off of her completely.
I have to admit to being more than a little pleased when she didn't cross her arms over her chest, or do anything else to cover herself; she simply waited for me to continue with undressing her.
The next thing, of course, was to see what waited for me under the skirt. I unzipped it slowly, followed by using my hands to trace her curves as I guided it over her hips and down her legs, then moving it out of the way when she'd stepped out of it. Along the way, I learned that she was wearing a pair of very brief panties and a pair of very sheer stockings – sans garter belt.
As I'd thought, she had a delightful shape: medium-framed, nicely curved in all the right places, a small heart-shaped ass, and a pair of legs that went from here to there in a MOST attractive way.
That left me with something of a problem, though: as nice as her legs looked in the stockings, did I want to leave them on her? Or would it be more fun to get them off of her? Decisions, decisions…
I finally settled on getting her out of the stockings; the idea of being able to get my hands directly on her legs was what finally decided the matter. I took my time about rolling them down her legs, savoring every moment of the process. When I finally reached for the waistband of her panties, I could faintly detect the aroma of aroused female; it was then that I knew that I could help her learn to enjoy physical intimacy. Before then, though, I still had the task of getting the last bit of clothing off of her. Her panties easily slid down her hips and soon revealed the smooth orbs of her ass. Once I'd gotten her panties down her legs and she'd stepped out of them, I simply had to lean forward and kiss her: once at the top of the crack of her ass, and again on each cheek.
Having relieved her of all the clothing that I wanted to – that is, all of it – I stood up and moved close enough to take her into my arms again. By that time, my cock was considerably more than 'semi' erect, and I didn't doubt that she could feel it pressing against her; but because I was holding her as steadily and gently as I was, she knew that I wasn't trying to rush her.
My arms were folded across her belly, under her breasts; my height advantage over her let me see that her breasts were medium-sized tawny mounds that were capped with small, dark areolas that were barely larger than her visibly erect nipples.
As she leaned back against me, I could hear the happiness and pleasure in her voice when she softly said "This is how I dreamed of being touched, and how a man should be with a woman: gently, with care, from the heart…"
It wasn't until I softly kissed the top of her head that she seemed to realize that what we were doing was real. Once she did, she didn't hesitate to gently pull herself away from me and turn around to make the front of herself visible to me, too. Unashamed, she stood there, letting me look at her: the firm mounds of her breasts standing out from her chest; her flat belly, and the small dark strip covering her pubic mound; and the trim smoothness of her thighs. When I looked into her eyes again, I could only tell her "You are far more lovely than I could have imagined. Thank you for sharing your beauty with me." The resulting smile from her made my entire year.
Stepping close to me again, she looked up at me to ask "Do you want to undress, too? Or can I do it for you?"
"If it would make you happy, then help yourself", I replied.
With a pleased smile, she calmly reached up and started with my shirt; when she had it open, she slid her hands underneath it to feel my chest and belly for a bit before pulling them back out again so she could finish removing it. That was followed by my pants, and after only the briefest hesitation, my undershorts. When my cock and balls were exposed, I heard her breath catch in her throat before she continued sliding my briefs down my legs. Once I was as naked as she was, she took my penis in her hand, and after only a moments consideration, leaned forward to kiss the head of it before standing up again.
Looking into my eyes, she told me "Already, you have shown me more kindness and patience than I have known with a man. Because of how you have been with me, I am not nervous or afraid any more; and I know that I can trust you to help me lose my fear. You are a good man, and I know that what we do is the right thing."
There wasn't anything for me to say in response to that; and all I could do was take her hands and softly kiss them again. She smiled at me, and without either of us having to say anything, we made our way toward the bed. She moved to the other side of it, and when she started to pull the covers down, I readily did the same on my side. Though she tried not to show it, I could see that she was both surprised and pleased that I did so as the two of us moved to lie down.
When we were next to each other, I rolled onto my side and propped myself up on my elbow so that I could look at her. I put my hand on her belly – surprising her again – before gently asking her "What we do, and when, is up to you, Saleh. How would you like to start?"
"I have never seen, I mean really looked at, a mans parts before. Is it okay?"
"Of course it is. If you have questions, I will answer them the best I can", I told her, before moving to lie down on my back again. It took a few seconds, but she soon realized that I was making myself available to her; she readily sat up and moved around so that she could get a proper view. I didn't hesitate to tell her "If you want to touch and move things around, that's okay, too."
She was a little hesitant at first, but when I continued to simply lie there while she examined me, it didn't take her long to become more confident and inquisitive. She had a few questions (my circumcision included), and my calmly factual responses seemed to encourage her to ask pretty much anything that popped into her head. Still, the male genitalia simply aren't that complex and it didn't take long before she knew as much as she wanted to. Satisfied, she moved to lie down again, but on her side so that she could put her head on my shoulder as she draped a leg and arm across me. I put my arm around her, and softly caressed her side while I waited to see what she wanted to do next.
Several minutes went by before I heard her ask me "You are waiting for me, aren't you? To see what I want?"
"Yes. I told you that I'm not going to push you, and I meant it. Like I said, what we do, and when, is up to you."
Another minute or so went by before she told me "I only thought that you meant you would not hurry me, not that you would let ME decide."
"Now you know that that's exactly what I meant: that the decisions are up to you."
"Are you doing that because of what happened with me?"
"No, I'm doing it because that's my way. I am like this with any woman that needed to learn about being with a man and finding pleasure."
That prompted her to raise up enough to look into my face as she asked "You have been with other women like me?"
"Not other women that have been exactly like you, no. But there have been women that didn't know about men, or that they should be able to feel physical pleasure."
She considered that for a bit before asking "Do you still spend time with them?"
"No. They have all been people that I have met, and seen that they needed help with something. It wasn't until after I got to know them a little bit, like I did with you, that I learned what the problem was, and helped them – just like I'm doing with you. Each of them had her own life that she had to live, and after we were together, I have never seen them again."
She lowered herself to rest on me again, and a few minutes went by before I heard her say "I think that you are much kinder and more generous than I thought, to do that for them. Didn't you ever want any of them to stay?"
"No, I didn't want any of them to stay. Like I said, each of them had a life different than mine that SHE had to live. For me and any of them to stay together, she or I would have had to change our lives. It isn't my way to ask anyone else to change themselves to be with me, and I'm too happy with who I am and MY life to want to change for someone else."
Another minute went by before she said "I think maybe knowing those women for so short a time has sometimes made you sorry."
"A little bit. But it has also made me happy, and feel good, to know that I have been able to help them. Sometimes I've heard from them later, and I know that they are much happier now; so the good feelings I have about what happened with them is greater than the sadness of only knowing them for a little while."
"And me?"
"Yes, I will be sorry when you have to go. But it will comfort me and make me happy that I was able to help you – even more so because I will know how much your life will change: from what you have already had to go through, to what I think your life will be like afterwards, it will be like the difference between night and day."
"How can you know that?"
"How can it be otherwise? I understand, at least a little bit, how unhappy you were after you married. And you have already told me that I have been more patient and kind than you've ever experienced with a man. How much happier and content do you think you'll be when you find the man that you want to spend your life with, and have his children? Won't that be so much greater than whatever little bit that we have together?"
Several seconds ticked by before I heard her quiet "I… I hadn't thought of that, really. But you're right."
A few moments later, she raised up again to look into my face as she told me "If we are only to have this little time together, then I should start learning what I want from you – and making our time something that you will be happy to remember."
"Dear one, however much or little we do, it is that I have had you in my life that I will remember, and treasure."
She was visibly pleased to hear me address her that way, and I could see that she was deeply touched by what I'd said. But she hadn't lost sight of why the two of us were naked on a bed, and didn't delay in telling me "Even so, I want to learn pleasure from you so that I can lose my fear."
"What do you want to do, then?"
"I… I would like you to touch me, and make me feel good in the ways that I know should happen between a man and a woman."
Putting my hand on her hip, I carefully rolled the two of us over so that she was on her back and I was on my side next to her. She looked up at me in complete trust, and utter confidence that I was going to do just as she'd asked.
With my hand on her belly, I lowered my head and kissed her with as much gentle invitation as I could manage. Her initial response was to simply return the softness of it; but when I started moving my hand and caressing her, she readily got into the spirit of the thing and our kisses gradually became more and more passionate. When I felt her body begin moving underneath my hand, I knew she was ready for me to increase the intimacy of my touch; it wasn't but a few moments before I was finally cupping her warm, firm breast in my hand. I'd barely run my thumb over her nipple when I felt her mouth open slightly, and her tongue tentatively touch my lips. I happily reciprocated, and it wasn't but a few seconds before our tongues were dueling from my mouth to hers, and back again. Even as that was happening, I was keeping my hand busy on her breasts – first one, then the other, had me softly stroking it with the lightest touch of my fingertips before I gently teased and pinched her nipples to bring them to full, glorious hardness.
With that accomplished, I gradually shifted and extended my touch to include as much of her as I could reach – with the deliberate exception of her womanhood. I delighted in being able to caress the insides of her thighs, and running my fingers through the soft thicket on her pubis; but I never directly contacted her sex.
Only when her passion and desire had reached the point that her panting made it difficult for us to continue kissing did I move my body over hers. Even then, it was only enough to allow me to use my mouth and tongue on her breasts to do much of what I'd done with my hand. In short order, she was almost writhing under me, and I let my hand make its first contact with her mons; she responded by opening herself to my touch, and arching her hips in encouragement for me to do more. Carefully and patiently, I applied myself toward using my fingers to both explore and stimulate her womanhood as I continued my efforts at her breasts. As quickly and easily as her passion and desire increased, I couldn't help but feel disgust toward the bastard that hadn't cared about her enough to give her the kind of pleasure she was so obviously capable of.
It didn't take long before I could feel the area between her labia getting wetter and wetter with her steadily increasing desire. My fingertips told me that her labia were thin and soft, and that higher up, her clitoris was a trifle larger than most – and from her reaction when I first touched it, sensitive.
With her moaning almost constantly by that time, I finished moving myself over her; apparently without realizing it, she spread her legs even farther apart to make room for mine as I used my arms to hold myself over her. That accomplished, the next thing for me to do was to gradually shift my oral attentions from her breasts to include more of her; my lips nibbling on her ears had her groaning with desire and running her fingernails down my back in mere seconds.
Slowly, gradually, and as indirectly as I could, I worked my way down her body as I applied soft lip-bites, kisses, licks, and other ministrations to every square inch of her flesh that I could reach. I had my lips in the luxuriousness of her pubic thatch before she realized where I seemed to be headed, and what I might have in mind. She managed to pull herself together long enough to look down at me and mutter "I never… that hasn't… no one has ever done that to me before…"
I paused only long enough to tell her "Wait until you know what it feels like before you tell me 'no', okay?"
She managed a reluctant nod before letting her head fall back and a soft moan escape her lips.
It wasn't much longer until I was in one of the positions I'd wanted since I'd first seen her nude: looking at the core of her as I prepared to sample her treasures. I saw that her pubic hair stayed dense until just after it passed the bottom of her cleft, then ended abruptly. Just above, her dark and extended labia bracketed her opening, which was all but dripping her essence. At the top of her cleft, her clitoris was the size of a large pea and had made its appearance from underneath its hood; the scent of her was strong, but still pleasant. Lowering my head, I stuck my tongue out and softly ran it along her opening from bottom to top so that I finished by gently running the very tip across her clitoris. My efforts were rewarded with a deep and impassioned groan from her while I savored the light and vaguely salty taste of her oils. A moment later, I repeated my action, only letting my tongue dip a little farther into her. Getting pretty much the same response from her as I had the first time, that was all the encouragement I needed to continue.
I happily spent the next several minutes introducing her to the pleasures of being on the receiving end of oral sex: running my tongue between her labia and tasting her essence, gently pulling on her vaginal lips with my tongue, fluttering the very tip of my tongue across her sensitive clit, and all manner of other things I'd learned to please and arouse a woman. As I was doing all of that, the sounds of her passion increased in frequency and intensity; I knew I was having the desired effect, and have to admit to feeling rather pleased with myself as I moved her closer and closer to what was most likely her first-ever orgasm with a man.
She'd taken to trying to clasp her thighs together – my head prevented her from succeeding – and I could tell that she was almost there when she suddenly arched her pelvis up and spread her thighs farther than I thought she could as her body was overwhelmed with powerful spasms.
Half-afraid to do anything to intensify the experience for her, I pulled my head back a bit and watched as her vaginal opening alternated between clenching in time with the tremors going through her body, and then relaxing enough to allow a small amount of her oils to flow out of her. After witnessing that happen a couple of times without doing anything, I simply couldn't pass it up any longer and had to begin licking them up as they appeared. The taste I'd gotten of her before had been faint and light, but the greater amount of her essence that I got proved to be even better: still light, but also a trifle musky and earthy at the same time – and most definitely delicious!
I didn't figure that I was doing anything to actually make her orgasm more powerful, but as I continued, I didn't have any doubt that I was dramatically slowing the process of her recovery; she'd stopped gasping for air and was lying there panting, but each pass of my tongue across her opening would cause her breath to catch in her throat and and have her lifting her hips in response to my actions.
Still, the human body does have its limits, and the intermittent release of her fluids eventually (mostly) dried up. After delaying long enough to try and memorize the sight of her, I moved over her again so that I was in a position to enter her.
When she opened her eyes and looked up at me, I could see how much pleasure she'd felt; I didn't doubt what the answer would be when I asked "Would you like us to make love now?"
Realizing that all I'd done had been use my mouth on her, she got wide-eyed at the thought that there was still more. It took her only the briefest of moments to answer "Yes, dear Jim – I would like that very much!"
When I shifted my body a bit and got the head of my erection touching the entrance to her vagina, I saw her get a bit apprehensive. Knowing what the problem was, I gently told her "Saleh, I want to make love with you. I don't want to only feel my own pleasure, and I'm not going to do anything that would hurt you or make you unhappy. I won't take what you will not give to me. Nothing will happen between us that you don't want to happen. Okay?"
Between the words I'd spoken, and the way that I waited patiently for her answer, she seemed to get the reassurance that she needed. I saw her visibly relax before spreading her legs to open herself to me a little more. There was trust and confidence in her voice when she answered "Yes, Jim, I understand. You've shown me that you are patient and gentle, and that I can trust you. Please, accept what I give you of myself."
Reaching between us, I took hold of my erect penis; moving the head of it across her opening a few times, I was able to wet it with enough of her oils to let us begin. When I positioned myself at her opening, I softly pressed against her to hold myself in place. Looking into her eyes, I could see that she was a willing partner in what was about to happen.
Still, when I began to press myself into her, I felt her tense up. I immediately eased up, and waited to see what would happen. She quickly relaxed, and I tried again – though a bit slower and easier. When she started to get tense again, I stopped what I was doing (though without backing off) and waited. It was then that she really believed that I truly wasn't going to do anything to hurt her or make her unhappy. She readily relaxed, and indicated to me that she was ready for me to try again. I did, and felt it as she deliberately relaxed so she could give herself to me.
Holding her eyes, I patiently and carefully increased the pressure so she would know that if she had any problems of any kind, I was ready to stop. Simply knowing that seemed to be enough for her, and my progress into her was steady, if still a bit slow – and ultimately successful. When the head of my cock finally slipped past the tight ring of her entrance, she gasped slightly even as I stopped and held myself still in her. She closed her eyes, and several moments went by before she opened them again and arched herself up toward me in encouragement for me to continue.
Lowering my head, I softly kissed her lips before raising myself back up and gently easing my hips forward again. She was small inside; whether that was because her ex was hung like a gerbil (as I silently hoped), or because of how long it had been since he'd been with her last, I'd never know. What was certain, though, was that the tightness (and incredible heat!) of her felt great around me. Wet as she was, I was able to fill her with my manhood in a single long, slow thrust; even as I felt her opening clenching around the base of my cock, I could feel the end of it touching the deepest part of her. I again held myself still in her, giving her however much time she needed or wanted to not only get used to having me inside her, but become comfortable with it.
I waited patiently (as far as she could tell, anyway) for her to let me know if/when she wanted me to continue. As I held myself still over her, I could feel occasional twitches in her vagina which were quite sufficient to keep me erect.
To my surprise, it wasn't but a minute or so before she told me "I'm ready, Jim. Make love with me."
Even hearing that, I was still careful to start slowly and gently: easing my hips back so that I slowly withdrew from her until only about half my cock was in her, pausing for a moment, then just as slowly entering her again. As I refilled her, she closed her eyes and released a soft moan; at first, I thought she was in pain – but quickly realized that quite the opposite was true.
Over the next few minutes, I steadily increased the length and speed of my movements in her to the accompaniment of her moans of pleasure. By the time I'd settled into a steady motion in her, she was running her hands along my sides and her fingernails down my back as she held her pelvis tilted up and her legs parted in eager welcome to my actions. To my amazement, it wasn't but a few minutes more that she slid into another orgasm: as her fingernails dug into my back, I felt her vagina tighten around me and begin an incredible rippling that started just behind the opening of her womanhood and progressed inward from there.
As wave after wave of pleasure ran through her body, the feeling of her vagina around my cock got to me more and more; it took everything I could manage not to empty myself into her before her climax began to taper off – and even then, if she'd gone on for another ten seconds, I might have done it anyway. She simply felt THAT damn good!
However it happened – sheer willpower, mentally distracting myself, or the grace of the Great Pumpkin – I was able to keep making love with her after she had her first coital orgasm. Still tight, she was even wetter inside, and the aroma of her got even thicker in the air as the room was filled with the liquid sounds of our coupling and her sounds of pleasure and arousal.
It didn't take long for me to get back into the rhythm that I'd been in before. I didn't have the slightest doubt that her next climax would do me in; what I was hoping was that after I had a chance to recover, my natural male limitations would work to my benefit. That was assuming that after having experienced those few orgasms, she didn't decide that she'd had enough 'teaching', and wanted me to leave…
But that was for later. Of more immediate interest to me was what I was involved in right then: not only pistoning in and out of her, but lowering my head so that I could nibble on her earlobes and kiss her shoulders and suck and gently 'chew' on her erect nipples.
Sadly, I didn't get to do those things as much as I'd have liked: it didn't take as long as I would have wanted before she was approaching her release again. For the life of me, I couldn't understand how or why her ex-husband had failed to bring out the passion and desire that she was so capable of; if he'd given her the care and attention that she deserved, both of them would have been a whole lot happier. But his loss was my gain, so to speak, and I was having a great time taking advantage of his shortcomings…
As Saleh got closer and closer to her climax, I simply tried to make the best of the situation by doing what I could to make our respective experiences as powerful as I could – not that I doubted I was going to enjoy it!
Although it was a bit awkward for me, I kept my mouth busy on her breasts as I continued my thrusts into Saleh's channel. Judging from the noises she made, she seemed to particularly enjoy it when I suck and 'chewed' on them at the same time. I'd taken a brief respite from doing that by nibbling on one of her ears, and had just started in on one of her nipples again when she fell into an orgasm that I could tell was stronger than either of the other two: she all but froze underneath me for a few moments before her body essentially convulsed with the first wave of her release.
After that first awesome spasm passed through her, the rest of them were relatively tame – but the operative word there is relatively: there couldn't have been any doubt in anyones mind that she was experiencing a powerful sexual release. I managed to make several more strokes into her before finally giving myself over to the fluttering of her vagina; pressing myself into her as far as I could manage, I felt the first jet of my cum erupt from the end of my cock. That was followed a moment later by the sensation of her fingernails digging into (but thankfully not scratching!) my back as she tried to press her pelvis up against mine.
I continued to pour myself into her in powerful spurts, in counterpoint to the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body and the feelings her womanhood created around my penis.
My age and gender were the deciding factors in which of us reached the end of our release first: she was continuing to have occasional 'aftershocks' when I reached the point of being able to get myself together enough to lower my body over hers. Supporting myself on my elbows, I used my body as a kind of living blanket for her as I began softly kissing her face and neck and shoulders. I felt her begin to relax under me after a bit, and her hands went from pressing against my back to slowly caressing my sides. Shortly after that, she raised her head to give me a deep and heartfelt kiss before looking up at me and saying "That was so wonderful! I never thought that having a man inside me could feel that good! When you used your mouth… it felt good, and the pleasure was amazing. I was still a little bit nervous about the other part – but when you were so gentle, and showed me that you were willing to wait until I was ready, I knew that you could make it feel good for me. I couldn't imagine that it would be like that, though! And to have it happen twice!"
Between her words, the way she was reacting, and the expression on her face, there wasn't any reason to think that she would be anything but a willing and enthusiastic lover for any man that she chose to share her bed and affection with.
"Saleh, dear… that is what it is supposed to be like when you share yourself with someone. But it isn't just the physical part of it that matters. It's what you have in your mind, and in your heart, and what he has in his, that make the difference. You told me before that the reason your husband wanted to marry you was for the status that having a young and pretty wife would bring him. Can you see that it is the affection we feel for each other that made it possible for you to enjoy what happened with us? That I was patient and gentle with you because I care about you? And that you were able to accept what I offered you because you care about me?"
I watched as she considered that for several seconds. She was smiling when she finally responded "Yes, Jim, I do see that. I think maybe what we feel for each other is something more than just 'affection', though. But I also understand what you said about people having their own lives to live – so the 'affection' that we have will have to stay just that, only for us, and just for the time that we have together."
After I gave her a soft kiss on the lips, I had to shift my weight a bit to rearrange the pressure in my shoulders. When I did, she realized that we were still somewhat coupled.
The expression of mixed surprise and pleasure she got almost had me laughing, but I somehow kept a straight face. After a false start, she managed to ask me "You're still with me? After you…? Why?"
Kissing her again, answered "Because it feels good to me to be in you like that, and I like being next to you this way. I thought that you would like it, too. Do you want me to move?"
She immediately exclaimed "No!", then blushed slightly and more calmly said "I do like having you with me like this – inside and over me, both. I just wasn't expecting it, is all. Before, when he was finished… using me, he would just get off of me and usually fall asleep for a little bit. This is what they call 'snuggling' in the magazines?"
Smiling, I answered "Yes, that's what this is – or one way to do it, anyway. Pretty much anything that lets the man and woman be close to each other and happy can be called that."
After I had to shift myself again, she told me "I think maybe you are getting tired, staying like that?"
I admitted that I was, a little bit, and she said "I… I like the way you feel… the way your body touches mine. Would… would it be okay if I was the one over you? For just a little bit, so that you could rest?"
"Of course it would, dear. You don't have to hold yourself up the way I am, either; I'm doing this because I'm so much bigger than you are, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you wanted lie on me, that would be fine."
Looking pleased, she told me "I would like that."
After a little minor adjustment, the two of us were able to roll over so that I was on my back with her on top of me – without my slowly softening penis slipping out of her. She was able to lay her head on my chest while I put my arms around her and started softly caressing her back. After a few moments, she released a contented sigh and I heard her say "It feels so nice, to be like this. To have known pleasure from being with a man, and then to be held and touched so…"
A couple of minutes went by with us like that before my cock finally shrank enough to slip out of her. Moments later, I felt her blush when some of my semen leaked out of her. She started to get up, but I held her still as I told her "No, Saleh – please don't think that you have to get up just because of that. When we moved like this, I knew that would probably happen, and I really don't care about it. I would much rather have you with me like this."
I felt her blush again before she softly asked "You don't mind that? Before, if something like that happened, he would look at me as though I disgusted him, and even call me names…"
"But this isn't then, is it? This is now, and here, and you're with me. I told you that I expected it, and that it doesn't bother me. If you like the way we feel like this, then why get up before you have to?"
It took a couple of seconds, but she gradually relaxed and let herself rest on me again. A bit later, when it happened again, I felt her blush in reaction. I simply hugged her in reassurance before going back to caressing her back and sides – and the delightful globes of her ass.
Several minutes went by with us together like that before she apologetically asked "Jim? Would it be okay if I… if I got up now? I'm starting to feel a little cold, and… sticky."
I kissed the top of her head before giving her a hug and answering "Of course it would. Before, I was just trying to tell you that you didn't have to get up for any other reason."
She said something in Arabic, and then lifted her head to look at me. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she realized that I hadn't understood what she'd said. Embarrassed, she told me "I'm sorry. I was there for so long, that I started to speak in the language. What I said was that you make me happy that we are lovers."
I gave her a tender kiss on the forehead (it was all I could reach) and answered "And YOU make ME happy that we are lovers" – which earned me a look of love and happiness such as I'd seldom seen; I knew that I'd touched her heart in a way that was as special as she was.
We happily just looked at each other for several seconds before I asked her "Do you want to clean up by yourself? Or would it be okay if we took a shower together? If you want to do it alone, that's fine."
I could tell that she was more than a little surprised at the idea that I could want to take a shower WITH her, but after a moments consideration, she got a look of pleased anticipation before answering "I think I would like to take a shower with you."
"I think I would like that, too", I replied.
Hearing that, she quickly got off of me and moved to stand next to the bed. I followed her, but opted to sit on the edge long enough to gently pull her in front of me so that I could kiss each of her nipples before standing up. She looked up at me in amusement before taking my hand so the two of us could head toward the bathroom. Inside, I stood back and looked at how lovely and sexy she was as she went about getting the water started, and the temperature adjusted. Once she was satisfied, she turned to give me a brief look of invitation (that I most definitely didn't need!) before getting in. It wasn't but a couple of seconds before I was in there with her, and the two of us started getting each other cleaned up.
It proved to be a considerably less than utilitarian shower, however: after only the briefest of hesitation, she wasn't reluctant about washing me with her bare hands – feeling every part of my body, from my hair all the way down to the soles of my feet, with repeat 'cleaning' of a few areas in between. In return, she seemed to enjoy the way I washed her: thoroughly, and with close attention to detail.
If she had let me, I could have spent a lot of time just washing her hair; it was thick and sensuous in my hands. Still, after she took it away from me, there were other bits of her that proved to be entertaining, too…
Once we'd managed to get ourselves out of the shower and dried off, it was back to the bed again. I had the pleasure of introducing her to 'spooning' by getting her nestled against my front; after she'd wriggled herself as close to me as she could, and I'd put my arm around her and cupped her breast, she released a deep sigh of contentment.
By asking her a few open-ended questions, I was able to get her to start talking about herself. Not a repeat of the things she'd told me about her marriage, but things about her – how she'd grown up, what she'd wanted to do when she was younger, what she could expect when she got home, and so on. Along the way, I casually asked her a few leading questions to get her to think a little more about something she'd said. I also made a very few observation to her, trying to help her consider options or details that hadn't occurred to her. And the whole time we lay there, I would happily give her brief, casual kisses: on her shoulder, on her ear, the back of her neck, or any other place within easy reach.
We must have stayed there, talking, for an hour or more before gradually lapsing into a comfortable silence.
I'd released her breast in favor of caressing her side and hip and thigh when she quietly asked me "Jim? I know that it's the right thing for us to only have this little bit of time together. You have already made me so happy, and shown me the pleasure I can know from being with a man. If you will, I would like for you to stay with me until I have to leave. Would you do that?"
I gave her a soft hug as I answered "Nothing would make me happier, dear one."
A moment later she told me "I… I do not want to offend you or cause you to be embarrassed, but…"
"But what?"
"What we have done… is it possible that we can continue? That there can be more between us before I must leave? Before, he would use me only once, and I was happy about that. But now…"
I put my arm back around her and softly kissed her shoulder before I answered "Yes, we can make love some more, if you like. And because you have already brought me pleasure, I will be able to make love with you even longer if that is what you want."
To my surprise, she scooted away from me a little bit – then rolled over so that she was facing me. Looking into my face, she seemed uncertain as she asked "Truly? How… how can you do that?"
"It isn't anything special about me, Saleh. That's just how men are: we are easily aroused and satisfied the first time that we make love. After that, it takes a little longer for us to be ready again each time; but when we are ready, it takes a little longer before we finish, too."
She looked at me intently for a few seconds, as though she was trying to make sure that I wasn't just trying to blow smoke up her cute little butt. But it didn't take her long to decide that I wasn't, and she graced me with a happy smile before telling me "I would like that."
She was close enough that I could kiss her lips before answering "I would like that, too", with a smile of my own, and to her visible delight.
I watched as she got thoughtful for a few seconds before hesitantly asking "What you did to me before, with your mouth… it made me feel very good, and that I… wanted you. Is that something that I could do, too? To help you be ready again?"
"You don't have to do that for me to be able to make love with you again, if you don't want to."
Blushing, she told me "But I think that I do want to. What you did, it felt so good to me, and I want to bring you pleasure like that. And I told you that I wanted to learn about the things that a man and woman can do. When I marry again, it will be for love, and I want to be able to show that love to my husband."
"If you're sure, then I don't mind. But I have only one question, first."
A trifle nervously, she asked "What question?"
"Can I do that to you while you do it to me?"
It wasn't but a minute later that Saleh was straddling my head as she made her first, tentative efforts at learning how to give blowjobs. After cautioning her about how pressure-sensitive my testicles were, and assuring her that I'd let her know if I was going to climax, I left her to her own devices – I figured it would be fairly obvious to her when she got things right, and as long as she didn't hurt me, she couldn't really do anything all that wrong.
For my part, I was delighted at having the opportunity to not only have my head between her thighs again, but to be able to get my hands on her lovely ass again. After she gave the head of my dick a first tentative kiss, I lifted my head and happily ran the tip of my tongue between her labia. She wasn't as aroused and wet inside as she'd been before, but I figured that I could correct that little problem – and proceeded to do so with a will.
It didn't take me long to realize that she was taking a lot of her cues from me: when I started toying with her clitoris with my tongue, she would try doing much the same thing on the head of my penis; when I stiffened my tongue and tried to slide it as far into her as possible, she'd take as much of my slowly-stiffening cock into her mouth as she could. Rather than take advantage of that knowledge, I elected to simply continue enjoy the process of arousing her as much as I could. I will confess to doing a couple of things differently, though, in order to give her some 'hints' about what she could be doing.
She learned easily and readily enough, and it wasn't long before she had me fully erect – and in return, I had her fairly dripping with desire.
I was having a fine time trying to see if I could suck her ovaries out through her vagina when I felt her release me from her mouth; a moment later I heard her ask "Please… we can make love, now? I want to feel you inside me!"
After running my tongue between her labia one last time, I gently guided her off of me and sat up. She was sitting, too, and the two of us shared an impassioned kiss before I told her "The way we made love before is just one of many ways that a man and woman can find pleasure together. Do you want to try some of the other ones, or is that one enough for you?"
It took only a moment for her to eagerly answer "I want to learn more!"
I couldn't help grinning at her enthusiasm, and calmly proceeded to guide her so that she was on her hands and knees. I saw her get a look of delight when I started to move behind her, and she told me "I've seen when animals are like this, and I though that it looked… sexy. I never thought to do it myself!"
Rather than say anything, I simply let her experience it: after getting the head of my penis wedged against her opening, I leaned forward enough that I was able to reach around her and hold her breasts in my hands before I started pressing myself into her. Knowing that I wasn't going to hurt her, she willingly relaxed herself to make my entry easier; I felt myself slip into her quickly and fairly easily. Still, I paused for a few moments to see if she needed or wanted any time to get used to me. She let me know she didn't by pressing herself back against me, and sliding herself a little farther onto my erection.
Still holding her breasts in my hands, I gently rolled her nipples between my fingers as I arched my hips to ease myself deeper into her; I was both pleased and surprised that her wetness made it possible to bury myself in her in a single slow thrust – one that was accompanied by a continuous moan of pleasure from her. Only when my pubic hair was firmly wedged into the crack of her ass did she stop, only to tell me "It feels different, somehow, to have you in me this way. I like it!"
Again, I chose to let my actions speak for me as I slowly eased myself back out of her until the tight ring of her opening was clenched around my cock just behind the glans, then sliding myself back into her a little more quickly. I'd no more than filled her again than I was doing it again, a little faster. Then again, faster still, and again.
It didn't take but a couple of minutes before I was pistoning in and out of her at a steady and fairly quick rhythm. I could feel her breasts get tighter in my hands, and her nipples getting longer and harder as I continued moving in her.
As I'd learned from the first time, it didn't take her long to find pleasure in what we were doing, or for that pleasure to reach the point of her experiencing an orgasm. The sensation of it felt just as good to me as it had before, but with that being my second time with her, I was able to enjoy it a lot more without having to worry about it having too much of an affect on me; I simply kept sliding myself in and out of her in time with the waves of pleasure that I could feel coursing through her.
I had to release her breasts when she lowered her body to rest on her elbows afterwards; I simply used the opportunity to play with her ass for a bit before starting to caress her body. As she supported herself on her elbows, I could feel a change in how I was moving in her when she tried arching her back in different ways; one particular position seemed to please her the most, and she held herself there for the few minutes it took for her to climax again – the second one being much stronger and lasting longer than the first.
When she'd caught her breath, she managed to raise herself up off her elbows again. Taking a grip on the bed covers, she propped herself up and began pressing herself back against me again as I continued to slide nearly my entire length in and out of her. Reaching down, I cupped my hands under her breasts – but only enough to let the hard peaks of her nipples drag across my palms as her breasts swayed in time with my motions. It took only a few seconds of that before she started to moan at the sensations it caused, and I could feel her get even wetter around me than she'd been before. It was a little bit of a strain on me, so I wasn't able to keep my hands the way they were for very long, and I heard her groan in disappointment when I finally had to pull them away from her. When I leaned forward to use my arms to support my body, though, I was able to lower my head and begin kissing her shoulders and neck and even softly nibble her ears; those actions seemed to be agreeable substitutes to her, judging by the noises she made in response.
I was finally starting to get a little bit tired, and had my hands on her hips to help steady the two of us when she slid into her third climax since we'd started. It didn't seem to be as strong as the one before, but it easily lasted just as long. After it ended, I slowed my strokes into her and asked if she'd like to try something else. Panting and still feeling some of the effects of her most recent release, she could only turn her head to look at me and nod her agreement. After kissing the back of her neck, I carefully eased myself out of her, hearing her soft moan of disappointment when I finally slipped free.
Taking her into my arms, I got the two of us lying on the bed again, with her on top of me and straddling my hips. I readily held her in my arms as she got her wits and strength and breath back. When I could tell that she was ready, I gave her a hug and told her "I think maybe that's too many, and too close together, yes?"
She nodded, and I continued "What we can do now is have you be on top, and the active one. That way, you decide how much and how fast. Okay?"
She lifted her head to look at me, somewhat perplexed – it took me only a moment to realize that she really didn't understand what I was telling her. After kissing the tip of her nose, I explained "This is like the first time we were together, except upside-down. Now you'll be the one on top of me; instead of me moving in you, you'll be the one moving on me. Understand?"
It took her only a moments consideration to realize what I was saying, and return my smile. As she started to lift herself up so that she could begin, I told her "Once you get me started, you can lean forward and you'll be able to see as it happens."
Again, she seemed to be thrown, this time at the idea of looking at what was happening as she made love. But from the expression she got on her face, I knew that the idea had a fair amount of appeal to her. A few seconds later, she'd moved herself back enough that she could lift up and get herself situated over my erect cock as she held it in position. She carefully lowered herself, and I don't think that either of us was surprised by how quickly and easily it popped into her. Without even seeming to realize I was there, she leaned forward and put her hands on my chest to support herself as she looked down to where we were joined. A moment later, she began to lower herself onto me the rest of the way – and I heard her gasp, then moan softly, as she watched her self-impalement onto my manhood. When our pubic hair had merged, she lifted her head to look at me in pleased amazement as she quietly announced "To see it… and feel it at the same time…"
I just grinned in reply as I reached up to take her breasts in my hands, then begin running my thumbs across her nipples, watching as they again lengthened and hardened in response.
With my touch on her mammaries, Saleh realized that if she wanted my penis moving in her, it was up to her to make it happen. She started easily and slowly enough by simply sliding herself up and down on my erection; it didn't take her long to branch out and start trying other things, as well: holding herself as far onto me as she could and investigating how it felt when she simply moved her hips and pelvis in different ways, leaning a good ways in different directions so that her movements on me had my cock rubbing against one particular area or another of her vagina, and even holding herself well over me so that the end of my penis was contacting her only in the area right behind her opening.
The whole time she was experimenting, I simply found things to do to keep myself occupied with her body. If I could, I was happy to play with her breasts; if they were out of reach, I was equally fine with being able to caress her silken thighs and toy with the firm globes of her ass. And, of course, when the opportunity presented itself, I'd kiss her – lips, tip of her nose, ear, shoulder, hand, nipple, or anything else that I could get my lips on. It wasn't 'just' kisses, either; I'd softly bite, nibble with my lips, suck, lick, or anything else that I could think of.
All in all, the two of us had a pretty damn good time with each other: her learning how it felt to have my cock moving in her in different ways, and me free to do pretty much anything I wanted to any part of her that came within reach of what I wanted to do it with.
Ultimately, she settled on something that clearly pleased her immensely: leaning forward with her hands on the bed and supporting herself with her arms while she rocked her hips to slide herself up and down my manhood. My contribution was to lift my head so that I could lick her breasts, and suck and 'chew' on her nipples, while my hands roamed across the rest of her body.
The first orgasm she had while on top of me was relatively small; the second was a bit stronger. The third and fourth weren't any more powerful, but each lasted a bit longer than the one before. By the time the fourth had passed, though, I could tell that she was starting to tire a little bit. Releasing her nipple from between my lips, I put my hands on her hips and applied just enough pressure to get her to slow, then stop, her movement over me. Covered with a faint sheen of perspiration and her hair hanging over her shoulder and partially covering the breast that I hadn't been occupied with, she looked incredibly lovely and sexy. Looking up at her, I suggested "I can tell you're getting tired. How about if you stay where you are, and I start making love to you again?"
It took only a moment for her to accept my offer with a small nod of her head; a moment after that and I was lifting my hips as I started to keep my end of the bargain.
It was easy enough for me to get into the same rhythm that she'd been in, and it didn't take long before I could tell that having ME move in her was letting her enjoy the feeling of our union more than she had before. I wasn't having to exert myself all that much, so I was able to maintain the pace of our lovemaking enough to see her through a fifth orgasm – one that had her panting and groaning for longer than I thought she even could.
By the time she was ready for her sixth, though, I was feeling a little bit of strain. Not just from the physical effort, but trying to hold back from emptying myself into her in response to all the pleasant and stimulating sensations she was creating around me. So when I realized that she was actually getting close again, I decided that it would probably be best if I did what I could to bring the evenings activities to an end by making it as good for her as could be managed.
Toward that end, I did something that an old girlfriend had taught me to do with her: as I could feel/see her getting closer and closer to the start of her climax, I would gradually slow and lengthen the way I was stroking into her – doing with my penis in her vagina what I would sometimes do with my tongue on her clitoris. I'd been assured that although the resulting orgasm wasn't as 'strong', it was somehow deeper, and more satisfying. That it also had an affect on ME only made it that much more appealing.
Even though I hadn't done that much since the girlfriend involved had moved out, I discovered that I still had a good 'feel' for it as I started using it on Saleh: we were a bit past the point that I knew signaled her approaching orgasm when I heard her start making a faint noise. A little longer, and closer still to her release, and the noise was loud enough that I could recognize it: a vaguely-frustrated whimpering noise, apparently in response that I was delaying and intensifying her climax. I might have been tempted to have mercy on her if it weren't for one small detail: what I was doing was having the same impact on me, too.
Saleh and I were both at the ragged edge of release when I finally did the one thing that would do us both in: slowly withdrawing from her before all but slamming myself into her in a single powerful thrust.
The sudden hard pressure against her clitoris pushed Saleh over the edge with a vengeance; the physical stimulation she created around my cock did it for me.
Even as I was emptying myself into her in what felt like a continuous spray of semen, I could tell that even though Saleh wasn't exhibiting the physical responses I'd seen in her before, what was happening to her was having more of an impact.
My climax was so intense that my cock was still twitching as it tried to fill her with cum that I simply didn't have when she all but collapsed on top of me. Surprised at the suddenness of it, I quickly put my arms around her and checked to make sure that she was okay; it didn't take but a few moments to determine that she had a pulse and was still breathing. When I pulled her hair out of the way to look into her face, I saw that she was plainly stunned by what she'd just been through. I spoke her name and saw her eyes move toward the sound of my voice, so I knew that she hadn't passed out or anything like that – she was simply overwhelmed, and unable to respond.
Wrapping my arms around her again, I gently stroked her back and sides as I softly spoke to her – repeatedly telling her that I loved her, that everything would be okay in a bit, and generally reassuring her as she slowly got herself back together.
After a couple of minutes, she finally started to stir in my arms; I quickly moved my head to look into her face and saw that she was again more-or-less alert and coherent. Tilting my head a bit, I was able to kiss her forehead; when I pulled back, I could see how much that simple gesture meant to her. She started to speak, but all that came out was a weak croaking noise. I rolled us over onto our sides, then carefully guided her to lie on her back. After a quick kiss to her lips, I looked into her eyes as I told her "I'm going to get you something to drink. I'll be right back, okay?"
She gave me a small nod, and I released her so that I could make a hurried trip to the bathroom, returning with a glass of cool water. I set the glass aside long enough to take a position resting against the headboard of the bed, and get her onto my lap. With her in a position to be able to drink properly, I picked up the glass and held it to her lips. Over the next couple of minutes, I was able to help her drink more and more of the water; she also recovered enough of her strength that she was able to take the glass from me and hold it herself. After it was empty, she held it out to me and softly asked "More?"
She was able to get herself off my lap, and I quickly refilled the glass in the bathroom. When I got back to her, she indicated that she wanted to be next to me instead of on my lap, and I readily guided her to nestle into my side before handing her the glass again.
She'd gone through about half of the glass of water when I heard her say "I thought the other times I felt that were good. But that one…!"
After seeing how what I'd done had affected her, I was feeling a little ashamed of myself, and told her "I'm sorry, Saleh."
"Why are you sorry?"
"For what I did – for making you have an orgasm like that, and what happened to you because of it."
"But there is nothing for you to say you are sorry for. Yes, I know that you were teasing me, and that you made me orgasm even more. And yes, I know what I have been like since that. Do you think that you are the only one that made that happen? Don't you think that I could have changed things, that I could have started moving on you if I didn't like what you were doing? I knew that it was going to be our last time, and that you were trying to make it special for me; I wanted it to be special, too. And it WAS special, Jim! If I had known what would happen because of it, I don't know that I would have the courage to do it – but I am not sorry that it DID happen. You are a good and loving man, and you have given me great pleasure and happiness tonight. I simply couldn't be upset or angry with you, after you have given so much of yourself to me!"
I was under no illusions that I had even the slightest understanding of how the female mind worked, and what she just said to me only confirmed my ignorance: I was worried that I'd upset her, only to learn that not only wasn't she upset, but that she actually appreciated what I'd done!
Well, I certainly wasn't going to argue the matter with her. I thought I screwed up, and she had informed me that what I'd done had actually been a GOOD thing. All I could do was let it go in favor of hugging her, and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She responded by trying to wriggle a little closer to me and releasing a happy and contented sigh.
A bit later, she drained the rest of the water from the glass and set it on the night stand before telling me "If you would have me, I would like us to lie together again, like we did before."
"Spooning, you mean?"
"No, the one before that – when you were holding me."
Understanding that she wanted to lie on top of me, I didn't hesitate to tell her "Yes, I would like that, too."
In short order, we had gotten ourselves repositioned just as she'd wanted: her lying on her stomach on top of me as I held her in my arms. A lot of my cum had drained out of her while she was sitting on my lap, but I didn't mind that in the slightest; what was important to me was that I was able to hold her in my arms and feel her heart beating against my chest.
Several minutes went by before she asked "Dearest one, I'm starting to feel a little bit cold again, but I don't want to get up this time. I want to stay here like this with you as long as we can. Is there anything else that can be done?"
Looking around, I saw that we'd pretty much managed to ruin the arrangement of the bed covers; it looked to me like I might be able to pull enough of the bedspread over to cover the two of us. Telling her what I planned to do, she managed to keep from falling off of me while I tried, and succeeded, in doing what I'd set out to. It took just a few seconds for her to start feeling warm again, and she kissed my chest and hugged me before sighing her happiness.
I'm not quite sure when, but somewhere along the line, both of us fell asleep with her lying on top of me. When we started to get up so that we could pull the rest of the covers down and properly go to bed, we discovered that our pubic hair had gotten somewhat glued together by our mixed secretions. Saleh found it amusing and embarrassing, by turns, as we carefully got ourselves pried apart. Both of us passed on the idea of a shower, deciding instead that it could wait until morning – that we much preferred spooning as we went back to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I was lying on my other side, with Saleh neatly tucked against my back and her arm draped across my body. With the opposing needs of thirst and a full bladder, I started to ease myself away from her, only to hear "No, you don't have to go."
"I'm sorry, but I do – but only for a moment. I'll be right back."
When I got back to the bed, I let her guide me to the position I'd been in, so that she could snuggle up against me again. When she put her arm around me, I took her hand and lifted it to my lips so that I could kiss her palm. After I released her hand, I could hear the love in her voice when she told me "Jim, you are such a dear, dear man" before putting her hand on my chest.
I don't know how long we lay there like that, content to simply be with each other. Still, both of us knew that the end of our time together was approaching, and I finally heard Saleh start to speak.
"Dearest Jim, I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for me. Not just in helping me get away from that horrible person that I was married to, but for everything else, too – keeping me company in that coffeeshop, really listening to me while I told you about everything that I've have to live through, and all that happened between us last night. First you held and comforted me when I started crying with relief that I was finally free, and then you gave me my dreams back by showing me that I didn't have to be afraid that I couldn't love or know pleasure and happiness again. You were patient and gentle with me, and you gave me great comfort. We talked about affection, but I think that both of us know that what we feel is love, because that is what we made with each other. You gave me more of yourself and your love than I thought one person could, and you have made me feel whole again because of it. I know that what we have had is a special thing, and not something that we can have forever. But I want you to know that you will always be in my thoughts, and in my heart; and that what you have given me and done for me will let me live the life that you said I deserve. I know that you were right when you said that my life will change, and why. I know that I will find the man that I want to spend my life with, and you should know that I will be happy with him because of what I have gotten from you. I will feel the loss when we must go our own ways, just as I know you will; I beg you, please, to take comfort in knowing that I will live my dreams because of our time together."
Following that, I heard her say something lengthy in Arabic; when she was done, I asked "What did you say?"
"I said that you are a good man – kind and wise and patient and loving, and asked whoever is in charge of the universe to watch out for you; that the people down here needed you."
I was so touched by what she'd done that I simply couldn't think of anything to say; the best I could manage in response was to kiss the palm of her hand again before simply telling her "Thank you, Saleh. It means a lot to me that you would do that."
Several minutes later, I told her "If I could, I would stay with you like this all day; but I think that you want to go and see your family. If you want to take a shower with me, we can get some breakfast and find out when your train home leaves, and I'll get you to the station. Or, if it would be easier for you, I can just leave now."
She hugged me before answering "No, Jim, I don't want you to leave yet. I would be delighted to take a shower with you."
A few moments went by before we both got out of bed by mutual accord. Thinking that she might want a little time alone in the bathroom, I suggested she go ahead after saying there was something I had to do. When I knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later, she let me know that it was okay to come in.
Our shower was as fun and playful as the one we'd shared the night before, if also bittersweet. After we'd dried off, she wasn't the least bit bashful about letting me watch as she got dressed; when she was done, and asked me how she looked, she was tolerant and amused when I took her into my arms and kissed her while caressing as much of her as I could reach before announcing that she looked wonderful.
Breakfast was her treat at her insistence; after we'd eaten, she used the pay phone to find out when the next train was that would get her home before calling her family and letting them know when she'd arrive. The departure time wasn't for another hour, so we stayed in the cafe and had another cup of coffee before heading for the station.
Once she had her ticket and checked her bags in, the two of us moved to a quiet area off to the side to say our goodbyes. I could see tears in her eyes as she told me "I know how lucky I was that we got into your cab yesterday. Because of you, I don't have to be afraid any more – of being beaten, or abused, or any of the other horrible things that happened to me before. I can't thank you enough, and I know that I could never repay you for all the good things that you'd done for me."
Looking into her beautiful eyes, I told her "If I have done good things for you, then it is because you deserved them, just for being who you are. If I have made your life happier, then you have made my life richer for having known you. You said that I will always be in your heart and in your mind; know that you will be in MINE, too. What we have felt for each other is love, and I will carry my love for you with me forever. I will never forget you, and whenever I think of you, it will be with the love that we have known. You go home now to your family, and that is right. You will find the man that you can share your life with, and be happy, and that is right, too; it will comfort me greatly to know that these things will happen. When my time has ended, and my spirit goes to see whoever is in charge of the universe, I will be able to tell him 'I have been loved by Saleh', and that will be all I need."
By the time I finished, she was openly crying; cupping her face in my hands, I used my thumbs to brush away her tears before leaning in to give her a soft, loving kiss on the lips – one that she readily returned. When we pulled apart, I saw that she was trying, valiantly, to smile. As much as it hurt me to, I told her "Goodbye, Saleh" and turned to leave. I heard her say goodbye in return, but I didn't turn around to look at her as I continued on my way out of the station.
I never saw, or heard from, Saleh again. But to this day, I can close my eyes and see her, and the love I felt for her comes flowing into me. I do take consolation in knowing that she has undoubtedly gone on to live a life that is much better than the one she had – but that doesn't really do anything about the hole she left in my heart.