A Grey Skirt

A GREY SKIRT

By Amy Brett

Chapter 1

IT WAS A little like walking into a wall or something. Suddenly, I was in a strange place, though it was not totally unfamiliar. But that wasn't all. What was really terrifying was the way I was dressed and the way I felt. It was so vertiginous, it almost made me sick to my stomach.

First, though it sounds complex, let me explain what I saw around me.

The floors were dirty, the hallway long and a little dark, the walls sometimes incomplete or falling apart, piles of refuse of all types sat along the base of walls. This sounds strange but, after several years in Egypt, I'd come to recognize places like this even though I hadn't really come to any accommodation with the seeming disorder.

This place was different only in that I don't remember ever having been here before.

I think it is some kind of shopping center in Egyptian terms. Several men sit in chairs along the long hallway and each seems to be looking at me. I don't wonder.

Now about the other -- the more frightening part.

I am a 30-year-old man of rather modest means and average looks. I guess most Americans would say I was short at 5-8 but I'm about average among Egyptian men. I've never had weight problems, pounding the scales at 135 pounds. I dress comfortably in cotton pants or jeans and cotton shirts. I've never been big on tee-shirts or shorts, and coats, ties, and dress pants are impractical in Egypt.

I think I'd been walking down the short hallway of my apartment building toward the elevator. Now I was in this other hallway. That, of course, provided some of the feeling of dislocation. It isn't every day you take a step in a known place and suddenly place your foot down in an entirely different place. That would have been quite enough to mess up my balance centers. But it wasn't all.

At that strange step, I went not only from one place to another but from one manner of being to another. That was the true dislocation.

My heel came down normally but my toes came down far below it, almost as if I were on tiptoe. I almost fell forward onto my face in the process of that single step. But I caught myself and stopped my forward motion. You see. I found myself stepping forward with a very high heeled shoe.

As soon as I caught myself, I looked down at what I'd stepped on and almost fainted with surprise.

First, my foot was held in a high heeled shoe -- a pair actually. But above the shoes was nothing but bare leg and, higher, a very short grey skirt.

I consider myself a normal American male. I don't usually walk around anywhere in high heeled shoes and a grey skirt!

I hesitantly took two tenuous steps to the wall and put my hand on it to steady myself. When I did, I noticed that my arm looked different -- smaller than normal and less muscular. Less hairy.

The white shirt I was wearing, I noticed then, seemed fuller in a way and baggier though lighter weight than I was used to. I touched the front of it and it didn't flatten as I'd expected it to. There was something under it. Holding it out a little and looking down between the buttons, I saw that I had large growths on my chest that I knew for sure hadn't been there before that fateful step. I have tits!

Now I know something is wrong. No doubt.

High heels. A short grey skirt. A thin white cotton shirt. Tits.

I raised my free hand quickly to my head and felt the long hair, pulling it around in front of my eyes and looking at it. Blond. I have rather nondescript brown hair. Blond.

I touch my face and it feels different than I'm used to as well.

Though there are two men sitting in chairs near it staring at me, I take the few dozen steps to a shop window further down the hallway and look at my reflection. It's someone I've never met. It's not me! It's a woman. A pretty if stressed looking woman. Not me!

As I stand there staring, I realize I've felt something else that I don't like at all.

From looking down the front of the shirt, I know I'm not wearing a tee- shirt and, with tits, I'm also not wearing a bra. But thinking about the short walk, I realize I felt that I'm not wearing anything under the grey skirt either. Nothing. No shorts. No panties. Nothing. No nylons. Nothing. The skin of my inner thighs rubbed together as I walked. I felt that. And I can feel the strange feeling of having nothing protecting me down there.

Have a quick feeling that I have to look under the skirt to see what other changes there have been but, even as I reach for the skirt, I realize this is not the place to do that. The two men are staring at me wide-eyed. Pulling my skirt up would be about the last straw. I resist the temptation.

God, I've got to get somewhere private. Now.

Feeling myself flush with embarrassment, I carefully walk on down the long hallway feeling every one of the dozens of eyes follow my progress. My insides are vibrating with an entire set of fears. Falling off the high heels is only one of many.

My heels click loudly as I walk.

About half way down the hallway, I see a sign on the wall beside an opening. "Dr. Asad Salama, M.D." I turn into the opening as if this was my destination all the time and find myself in another dark room, this one with a white door at the end. The sign is repeated on the door and I open it and walk in.

A woman with a scarf over her hair looks up and her jaw drops.

"Is there a doctor here?" I ask. She nods but doesn't change her other attitude at all. "I need an examination. Right now."

She nods and quickly gets up to move to a door beside her. She's gone for only a few seconds before coming back and holding the door open, obviously in invitation. She nervously moves away from it as I walk to it. It closes behind me and a man in a suit looks up from his desk. His face beams as he looks at me, his eyes sliding down across my shirt and skirt before coming to rest on my face. Belatedly, he stands behind the desk and indicates the chair in front of it.

"Please to sit," he says. "You have a problem?"

"I need an immediate examination," I say.

"You are sick?"

"No. I, ah ..." I wonder what to say that won't sound like I'm crazy. "I just need a routine exam."

"Very well," he says, shrugging. He stands up and opens a door beside the desk, leading the way into what looks to be a fairly modern examination room. "You have no problems or sickness?"

"Ah, no," I say. "Just, ah, routine. To, ah, see that everything is all right."

"Then just sit up here on the examination table for me, please."

I back to it and lift myself up onto the cushioned surface. He gets a stethoscope and walks to me. He seems somewhat nervous as he touches its cold face to my chest in the opening of the shirt. He listens and nods after a second. Walking to my side, he listens through the shirt to my back in several spots. He taps softly several places as he listens. He nods.

He takes my blood pressure and nods. He gets out the funny pointed thing with the light in it and looks in my eyes and ears. He has me open my mouth and looks at my throat.

He blushes. "Could you to lay back on the table, please?" he asks. I lay back. "Have you had a recent breast examination?"

"No," I say. That's an understatement.

"Could you open your top, please?" he says with a heavy sigh. It's as if he's anticipating an execution. I unbutton the shirt, pulling it from the waistband of the skirt and laying it open. For the first time, I really see my tits laying there on my chest. They look pretty good from my perspective. Firm and fairly large. There are really big nipples on top of large areolas. Impressive.

He looks embarrassed again but puts his fingers tentatively on the left breast and rolls and rubs it thoroughly. It feels good though a little rough. He repeats it on the other breast. He looks at the nipples close up, turning and rolling them. That really does feel good.

"Do you want a pelvic examination as well?" he asks, gulping noticeably.

"Yes. Please."

"Then, I'm sorry, you will need to lift your skirt and take your underthings free."

"Okay." I lift my skirt and with considerable surprise he sees that I'm not wearing anything below it.

"Yes. Ah. Could you lift your legs into the stirrups please?" I do as he asks as he turns away to a cabinet. He returns in a moment, pulling a low stool up between my legs. He clears his throat nervously several times. Then he touches me with something very cold directly between my legs. I've got some of my answer. Obviously there's something there for him to examine.

I feel cold wetness between my legs and something pressing uncomfortably into me. "Into me." Strange. A few minutes ago, I didn't have a way to do that. Now I do.

He does something and I feel very uncomfortable. Just before I'm going to scream with pain, he stops. I feel something else undescribable. It's like he is touching the inside of my stomach. Definitely, it's something I've never felt before in my life. He's gentle but he's still touching a lot of things I know I didn't have recently.

He moves back slightly and removes the cold steel object from between my legs.

"Normal," he states blandly.

"What about, ah, above there?" I ask.

"Yes. I have looked." His fingers move to where my dick was a few minutes ago. It feels completely different. "Much larger than normal. Is this normal for you? Has there been swelling or pain?"

"Ah, no. I guess not."

"Really it is quite phenomenal. I have never seen one quite so large." It's as if he's playing with my dick with his slippery fingers. But, at the same time, it feels much different than I'm used to. More sensitive. I can look down and see it in his fingers. It looks slightly like my dick but much much smaller. It's really only about an inch or so long and not as big around. It's frighteningly small from my perspective but I guess it would be big for a clitoris.

"This is going to sound strange but would you check for a prostate gland please?"

"Prostate? But, my dear, you have no prostate." I nod.

"Check anyway, please?"

"Very well but ..." He puts some cream on the finger of his glove and finds the opening of my anus. Slowly and carefully, he presses inward. I can feel that clearly as he probes around and around, pressing and feeling.

"No prostate, miss. Of course not."

"Thank you," I say.

"Was there anything else?"

"No. That's all right," I say.

"Then you will want to clean up a little," he says as he puts a box of tissues near my hand. "Come and talk to me in my office when you are ready." I nod and begin wiping off the cream at the opening of my ass and above it. It takes several tissues before I get it done and he has retreated to his office.

Finally, I sit up on the edge of the table, pull my skirt down, and re-button my shirt. I hop down and return to his office. He's filling out a form as I sit down and carefully cross my legs, trying to pull the short skirt down as far as I can.

"Am I, ah, normal?" I ask.

"Yes. Quite normal," he answers. "But I am curious. Why did you come to me today?" My mind races.

"I, ah, I needed to know if everything was, ah, normal. If all the parts were where they are supposed to be and, ah, everything." He stares at me with a frown.

"Yes. Of course. And what made you think that there was something wrong. Did you have pain?"

"No pain. I just didn't know."

"I don't think I understand," he said, confusion on his face.

"Neither do I," I replied. I couldn't help him because I didn't know what was going on either.

"Very well. Then there is only one thing I can add," he said seriously. "I believe you have not been in Egypt for long." I didn't say anything. "You should be very careful here to avoid conflicts with the culture. What I mean is that the culture of Egypt is very conservative, in dress and many things. I believe you could have trouble in the way you dress and perhaps in your actions. It is important that you not have trouble during your visit."

"Thank you. I appreciate what you are saying," I said. I do understand the cultural differences and that was one of the reasons I'd come to the doctor so quickly. I was very uncomfortable in the hallway with all the men looking at me and knew I was going to be equally uncomfortable going back out now. For one thing, I don't even know where I am. "Could you tell me what part of the city I am in?" I asked.

"Of course, yes. You are in the Mansheya district of Alexandria. The women's area is only a block away from this office."

"Thank you," I said, knowing now where I am.

"I feel I should warn you that women in Egypt who go about without underwear and in revealing clothing are looked down upon," he added.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It is dangerous, my dear. That is all. And may be uncomfortable for you."

"Thank you."

Inexplicably, I found a Visa card in the pocket of the skirt with my name on it and only initials for a first name. I've never had a card like this so it is even more unexplainable. The nurse, who refuses to look at me as if I might pollute her thoughts by doing so, takes the card and makes an impression before having me sign for it.

I walked out of the dark hallway and immediately gained the attention of the men along the long hallway. Their heads seemed to come up to scan my body almost instantly. I can seen that I need to do something about my clothing as soon as possible -- at least underwear and nylons.

I walk down the hallway blushing and feeling the stares. I only hope I don't trip. Several of the men make the obnoxious pss, pss, pss sounds that I've heard aimed at women before. They only smile if I look at them.

I almost walk past the clothing store before I notice it out of the corner of my eye. I turn on my heel and enter.

Very small, the store has a dozen shelves and a display window. Only a single rack of dresses sits against one wall. One of the men sitting on the chairs rises as I enter and follows me inside. He turns on a light beside me before squeezing into the small space. I've never seen a women's store with only a male salesperson.

"I can help you?" he says. I nod and look into the single glass case covered with papers, a calculator, and a messy stack of tee-shirts. The case is filled with boxes only barely recognizable as underwear of all sorts.

"I need a bra and panties. Pantyhose, too." He smiles broadly, looking me up and down.

"Your size, missus?" I realize I haven't the foggiest idea. I shrug. "I can measure?" he asks. I shrug again. I don't know how else to do it.

He goes behind the glass case and removes a tape measure and returns to me. Standing in front, his hands shaking noticeably, he reaches around me and pulls the tape tight around my chest over the shirt. He releases it and reads the measurement. Even more nervously, he does the same around my breasts, breathing hard now.

Taking a deep breath, he repeats the actions around my waist at the top of the skirt and my hips. Seeming relieved, he moves back behind the glass counter and looks through the assortment of underwear. Finally, he pulls out several boxes, opening each across the top of the glass and gestures toward the lacy material.

The boxes hold primarily white and black lace bras but there are one each in blue and pink. I pick a white one that seems a little fuller than the others and feel the underwire at the bottom. I nod. Quickly, he puts them all back away and pulls out a shoebox filled with panties. Looking at the tags, he pulls out a dozen and gently spreads them on the counter. None are much bigger than a small pair of triangles held at the sides by a narrow piece of material and at the bottom by a slightly larger one. All are lace that would cover nothing.

I pick one and set it with the bra.

"Pantyhose?" He pulls down another box from one of the shelves filled with wrapped plastic packages of stockings. He lays out a variety of colors -- white, black, and several shades of tan. They all seem very sheer. I pick a white pair.

"Do you have a try on room?" He nods and nervously turns to a very narrow opening to one side of the counter. There is no door and only a crude piece of cloth hanging over it. I nod and squeeze past him as he holds the cloth aside. It is so close that I find my new breasts pressing into his arm in order to pass him.

The room is even tinier than the spaces of the shop itself. There is a stool in one corner and just barely enough room to stand without moving back against the cloth door covering. I can see the man looking at the cloth when I turn around. It only comes down to within a couple of feet of the floor and makes me feel very vulnerable.

I decide I can't do anything about it and definitely need the underwear on now. I start by unbuttoning and removing my shirt. Inspecting the bra, I finally figure out how it should go on. I put my arms into the straps and position the cups over my breasts. Then I begin the struggle to connect the elasticized bands around behind my back. Finally it connects and I weigh my breasts inside the bra. It's adequate though none too safe. The material is just too light weight to provide much more than the minimum support and protection. I put the shirt back on.

I can't bend over to put the panties on so I sit down on the stool and put first one and then the other leg into the leg holes before standing again and pulling them up. In place under the skirt, I can feel the side straps very low on my hips but the material firmly between my legs and across my stomach and lower buttocks. They'll have to do for now.

I sit down again and open the package of pantyhose only to find that they aren't pantyhose at all. Instead, they are thigh high nylons with elasticized tops. Kicking a shoe off, I thread the thin material over my leg and up until it's around my thigh tightly. I smooth it up and notice that my foot is outside the cloth doorway. I'll bet the shopkeeper is getting an eyeful.

Since I don't want to put my foot down on the questionably clean floor, I slip it back into my shoe and repeat the entire process with the other leg. At least it feels a little more secure even if none of this stuff covers much more than not having it on at all. I stand and walk back out through the cloth doorway to be met within a foot by the shopkeeper. He's all smiles.

I pull out my Visa card and hand it to him. He looks at it as if it's an alien creature and then hands it back to me.

"No, no," he says.

"No?" I ask. Now what?

"No. No Visa here. Money." I shrug. I don't have any money in my pockets.

"No money. Just Visa." He just looks at me. "Is there a bank near?"

He shakes his head. He's sweating, smiling, and still shaking. He puts up one finger as if he's just had a wonderful idea.

"Could just look at clothes," he says. I don't understand and look blank. "Could look and that would pay." I think I understand. He wants to just look at me and that will suffice as payment. I look at him for a long moment and then shrug. I need the underwear.

He smiles even more broadly and gestures toward the try on room. I think I understand and again squeeze past him into the tiny room. Still smiling broadly, he holds the cloth doorway open between us and gestures toward the buttons of my shirt. Now I'm sure I know what he wants.

Frowning, I start to open the front of the shirt. His mouth is partially open as he watches but he doesn't say anything. When I open the shirt over the new bra, he stares openly at my new breasts. I look down to see what he is looking at and can plainly see the areola and my hard nipples through the lace. I don't notice his movement until his hands move to hold my breasts up for his inspection. His thumbs brush across my nipples nervously.

"Fits very good," he says with a smile after a moment. I nod. He's still rubbing my nipples and I can feel it all through my body. He grunts and moves his hands away. I quickly rebutton the shirt and try to tuck it in the skirt. "Step there?" he says, indicating the short stool. I don't quite understand but turn.

"Put my foot up there?" I ask. He nods and smiles some more. I put my foot up on the stool, standing sideways to him.

Immediately, he moves a shaking hand to my ankle and softly rubs it up my calf. I can clearly feel the shaking of his fingers as he does it. When he gets to my knee, he doesn't hesitate but strokes on upward onto my thigh. There's something very exciting about this inspection.

He doesn't slow at the hem of my short skirt but pushes it upward until his hand is at the elasticized top high on my thigh. He follows the elastic around, his fingers just touching my naked skin above it, until his hand is under my thigh. He strokes back down the entire length of my leg until he is again at my ankle. He nods his satisfaction and I put my foot down on the floor again.

"Other?"

I put my other leg up on the stool, ending up standing sideways and slightly away from him in the process. He repeats his actions from my ankle, slowly up my calf and across my knee, up my thigh to the elastic top. Then again he moves his hand around my thigh until his hand is under it. He squeezes the soft flesh lightly and moves back down its length.

"Yes," he says. "And now other?" I know he means the panties and purposely turn away from him. Looking over my shoulder at him as he watches, I pull up the back of my skirt. Again immediately, his hand goes to my bottom, rubbing the lacy material from hip to hip and down almost between my legs.

"Front, yes?" I blush but turn toward him and, after a moment's reflection, lift the front of the skirt. His fingers shake wildly as they follow the top of the elastic in the panties across my lower stomach from hip to hip. Then the fingers move down across the front of the material along the leghole until they are between my legs. He stops, just looking before he nods.

"You want one more of everything?" he asks. "I make very good deal."

"What deal?" I ask.

"Bra if can suck," he says, pointing at my breasts.

"Three bras," I say, wondering at myself. He smiles.

"Two bras." I'm actually thinking about it. This is ridiculous. Finally I realize what I'm doing and shake my head. "Okay, three bras." Before I can say that I don't want any for the price, he's turned and is picking out the blue, pink, and black bras I'd considered before. He turns to me before I can react to get out of the try on room.

"Pay now," he says, again indicating the front of my shirt. I decide I can't back out now and unbutton the shirt again. When the bra comes back into view, he deftly moves his hands to my breasts and lifts the bra over the flesh in a single motion. His slightly bristly face immediately comes to my left breast, his mouth covering my nipple and areola completely. The feeling takes my breath away.

He sucks on it for quite a while and I don't protest in the least. It really feels wonderful.

He stops to switch to the other breast but pauses and looks at me again.

"Three panties if can touch there," he says.

"Three panties and three stockings," I say, not believing I'm really saying it. He nods and lowers his mouth to my other nipple. I feel his hand lift the front of my skirt and in an easy, gentle movement slides inside my new panties.

His rough hand moves far down until I feel his large finger at the portal of my new cunt. My hands go to his shoulders to hold myself up as the finger slides between my legs and into me. He sucks on my nipple voraciously as he begins pistoning his finger in and out. In the process, his palm and thumb rub my clitoris. I moan loudly and drop my head so my long hair covers his face and head.

It takes only a few moments before I feel the orgasm overcome my body. A soft scream escapes my lips as it peaks.

His face moves away from my breast and lifts to my mouth for a kiss before his hand moves out of my panties.

"Three bras, three panties, three stockings. You need dress? Skirt maybe?" I look down and see that he's holding his cock in his hand, his pants unzipped.

"Three dresses, three skirts, three shirts," I say.

"Okay," he says with a smile. I reach under my skirt and pull the panties back off my legs and step out of them. I put my foot back up on the stool and enjoy the feeling of his masculine hardness as it enters me.

An hour later, I'm still picking out my new clothing as he takes every opportunity to rub and touch me as he leans against me. He has some very nice clothes and trying them on is a great pleasure for both of us. He watches every move but can't afford to give me any more. We still make another deal for a little black dress I just have to have.

Chapter 2

THE SHOPKEEPER PROUDLY escorted me and my bags out of his store and back into the dark hallway. He insisted on introducing me, in Arabic, to other shopkeepers who were very accommodating. It didn't take long for me to learn that no one seemed to take Visa but everyone was eager to make some kind of deal.

I ended up with three kinds of perfume for a quick feel, a short leather skirt for allowing that shopkeeper to watch me put it on and take it back off, and a beautiful set of gold earrings, necklace, and bracelet for a blowjob. There were a dozen hopeful shopkeepers trying to "sell" me cameras, souvenirs, radios, tee- shirts, and paintings. I resisted all of them until the shoe store.

The shoe salesman smiled and caressed my foot after he'd measured it for size while I looked through the boxes he'd brought out. Most of the shoes were awful. Old lady. Sequined. Covered with bows.

Finally though, I found a pair of heels with pointed toes and a series of tiny straps that held them on. He reacted immediately by locating pairs of similar shoes in black, white, beige, pink, blue, and green. Laughing, I picked the black ones in a soft matte, black patent leather, and white. I wondered what payment would amount to.

I tried each of them on and walked about the room for long enough to see they were comfortable if a bit high for my level of experience. I still liked them and nodded my agreement. The man didn't speak even a word of English so the negotiation went fairly blindly. I found that the negotiation was still fairly weighted in what I felt to be my favor.

He held up the pair of black patent shoes and set them down on the chair next to me. Watching to see that I was going along with him, he moved his hands up my right leg to the top of my nylon and pulled it downward until it was off. Then he proceeded to suck on my toes one by one until I thought I was going to have a climax from just that.

He held up the second pair of shoes and peeled off my other nylon. Looking over his shoulder and unzipping his pants, he put his dick between my toes and began pumping like a dog. It was as if he hadn't seen the group of men outside who gave a very bad impression of people ignoring what was going on. He didn't pause as he held up the third pair of shoes and slid the hem of my skirt upward until he could pull my panties down and off.

For the next 20 minutes, he alternated between licking my clit and toes as I used my toes around his dick. My leg was splattered with his come even as his face was glistening with mine.

I walked out with three new pairs of shoes and a giddy sense of having had a dozen orgasms in about two hours of shopping.

You could probably ask me why I felt so confident and safe when, in this place and my present body, there was simply no reason for it. Maybe it was just that, though taken advantage of rather blatantly and numerous times, I figured that I had things under control.

At this stage, of course, I know that any woman is smart enough to stay out of this kind of trouble and for very good reason.

To hazard sounding like I'm setting some sort of allegory, I could literally see the light at the end of the long hallway that had to open onto the street, though it was probably a hundred yards away. Now there seemed to be even more of the shopkeepers around me, asking me into their shops. There were enough of them that they occasionally jostled into one another and then into me though it was obviously inoffensive and unintended. They were getting a little noisier and I more frequently had to move to one side or the other a step just to keep from running full on into someone.

Maybe because of that, I was a little surprised when one man stepped closer to me when I stepped to move to one side around him. I hardly noticed that it took me closer to the wall of the building and I didn't notice at all that it was one of the many open doorways to a stairway up rather than to a store. He seemed to move with me, still talking, as I sidestepped again and found myself even closer to the doorway but still paying attention to the man and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the group of five or six guys.

"Must show. Must show," the man said, putting his hand on my arm. I actually moved the way he wanted me to mostly to get his hand off me. "Please. Please." He gestured broadly at the opening, smiling brightly, and still reaching toward me as before.

I have no idea what I was thinking as I walked through the doorway and into a small lobby in Egyptian terms from which I could see another doorway that might be a boab's room and a stairway up. The stairway was well worn stone, smoothed by thousands of feet over a great deal of time. Not poor workmanship but simply age.

Lighted only by a window into a central core, I stumbled up the stairway, turned at the landing, and went up again to a dark wooden door. Still smiling and waving his arm, he indicated the stairway on upward. I knew that if the light had been better, he probably would have been looking up under the short skirt since he was two or three steps behind me on the ascent.

"Yes, yes," he said as I stopped again and he fished for a key to the flat and quickly opened the door. While he'd been doing that, I'd noted the dimly lit faces of the others. More than three men but I wasn't sure how many more.

Now my confidence was shaken totally. I was really two floors up in a strange building somewhere I didn't recognize with a group of men I didn't know.

The inside of the doorway was as dimly lit as the stairway until he flipped on a light so I could see it was a private home by the wall hangings in the narrow entry hallway and a dining area beyond. Obviously, the shutters on the windows were closed tightly and, as he led the way in, I could see the narrow strips of light through them.

Still in the hallway, I looked right at a tiny kitchen and, a step further, at a dining room and, to the right, a living room. As I surveyed the rooms, which were totally unremarkable and didn't give a clue as to why I was here, one of the men behind me went around and slid a cassette tape into a rather well worn tape player. Egyptian music, which I can take only in small doses, blared tinnily from the speaker.

That's when the man grabbed my wrist, gestured toward the table, and said something in Arabic. The other men rushed past me and moved the four chairs away from the solid looking table. What could possibly be going on? I wondered as I watched them sweep the few items from the table and onto a small telephone stand nearby.

"What is it you wanted to show me?" I asked, still not getting it at all.

"Yes, yes," he said with another big grin and said something to one of the other men. The other man grabbed my other wrist and the two of them nearly lifted me off my feet as their free hands went to my armpits. They moved me backward the two or three steps to the table and then did lift just high enough that the table edge caught the back of my legs nearly at the back of my knees.

They sat me down and slid me across the smooth surface a ways and then back down. In reaction, I almost lifted my legs in an attempt to fight back of a sort but realized immediately that if I did, the skirt would be around my waist. Just getting the idea of striking out, the idea was stillborn as my legs flattened to the surface, my knees painfully clicking together to protect myself.

I didn't have a second chance as I felt two pairs of hands on my ankles immediately. Though I was panting with fear, none of the rest of them were even breathing hard. All were smiling just as they had all along. Speaking calmly, he said something else in Arabic and another of the men took my wrist from him in a firm two handed grip. Though my arms were wide spread, at least they were holding my ankles together.

I'm sure that if I'd been a woman, I'd have known exactly what was going on but without the experience of a lifetime, I had only a slight idea and that confused and unwilling to believe. Guys, after all, are never concerned about being raped. Hoping, if anything, that it might happen.

My heart rate and breathing settled slightly as I just laid there and nothing much happened except that six pairs of eyes smiled and looked at me from all sides. I just tried to relax and figure out if there was anything at all I could do about my predicament.

"What's going on?" I asked stupidly, at least recognizing what the potential was in the situation. A long strand of my hair was draped across my face and partially covered one eye and threatened to get in my mouth. The guy (that's what I'll call the leader though all were guys) walked a step and helpfully brushed the hair off my face and then took greater care than I really thought necessary as he carefully arranged it and the rest in a halo around my head on the table. I could only look up at him, upside down, and worry as I watched. I wasn't getting any answers and, obviously, he didn't really think answers were particularly necessary under the circumstances. I didn't even know if he could say more in English than I'd already heard him say and there was no evidence that anyone else did either.

Of course, that didn't keep me from trying. "Please let me up," I said as sweetly as I could. No one said anything in return and I decided I might as well give it up as a bad try.

The guy walked on around me, inspecting everything. At my waist, he carefully arranged my skirt so it covered as much of my legs as was possible but was fanned, too, to the sides.

When he got to my feet, he pulled off one shoe and then the other, carefully setting them down on another small table nearby. At my other side, looking from my feet slowly up to my face and back down several times, he spoke softly in Arabic and several of the other men added quick comments in soft mumbling words. Finally, he looked to one side and asked a question before looking at each of the other faces. There were a few more comments before he nodded.

His hand went to the front of my blouse and began unbuttoning it carefully from the top. I thought it was odd that it was his fingers that were trembling as he worked on the tiny buttons. As he finished, he asked another question to a chorus of "Iowa", the Arabic for yes.

With just index finger and thumb, he tentatively moved one side of the blouse outward. I don't think anyone was even breathing. It was if he were opening a safe or playing with a bomb. He apparently didn't have to ask about the other side and went to it to pull it aside the same way, careful not to obscure anyone's view of what he was doing.

His held breath hissed out as he looked at what he'd uncovered. I couldn't help but agree in a strange, male sort of way. I certainly agreed that I was impressive that way. Someone said something softly and he nodded. I wasn't surprised as his hands came to the front closure of the bra. He struggled for a second as I would have a short time before. Then it came open.

Not waiting for the suggestion, his thumb and finger went to the right cup and very slowly moved it aside. My already hardened nipple received a gasp of welcome from the gathering. Taking a deep breath to suppress his flush but ignoring the sweat that now beaded his forehead, he repeated the action with the other cup.

Almost agonizingly, they all just stared for a long time before doing anything else. The guy motioned, with a few words, and the two guys holding my wrists put their hands under my armpits again and lifted me to a sitting position. Three of them worked in concert, if without too much coordination, to get the blouse and bra off without ever letting loose of my wrists. When they'd succeeded, they guided me back down to the tabletop and the third man, behind my head, rearranged my long blond hair in a way similar to how it had been. I wondered if they liked the blond hair or my tits more.

The guy warned me far in advance, his fingers forming into a kind of pincher about a yard above my chest. Certainly there was no doubt in anyone's mind as to where they might be going. As he got within a few inches, I found myself cringing away from them even though it had to be entirely internal since the tabletop prevented even the least backward movement. Of course, without pause they came down until they were around the aroused right nipple. They closed on it but very very gently, pinching it fairly tightly but really not so I could truly feel it. When he rolled it, I did feel that and it was quite pleasant. I may even have made a sound. A moan.

He did that until the areola around it was swollen into a secondary breast on top of the fuller mound. I was a little surprised when the man to the other side molded his hand around the bottom of my other breast. Oh, that really did feel good.

As if needing the guidance of that action, the guy's hand went under my other breast and together they reshaped and rubbed and rolled the firm flesh until I found myself licking my lips with enjoyment. I'd read books that said they were tied as if by a string to a woman's pussy. Now I knew it to be true and rubbed my legs together as much as the guys holding my ankles (and the audience) would let me. The guys holding my ankles could see what I was doing though and gave me quite a bit of space to continue doing it.

I'm really not sure if the two who were doing the work even noticed how I was reacting to it unless they saw after the fact, when my body went rigid with the quick, hard climax I had. But I'm pretty sure everyone else watched because they all seemed to be talking animatedly as I got over it.

I hadn't yet opened my eyes when I sensed as much as felt the button of my skirt at my waist undone. There was quite a bit of conversation as I opened my eyes and felt the zipper go down the three short inches. Needless to say, no one consulted me as the men holding my ankles lifted them and someone else jerked my skirt out from under my butt. It was literally a completed task before I could have done anything more than gasp. I at least did that.

More excited about the entire process now, they hardly slowed down as one left, the guy, and three used free hands to touch my thighs, my stomach, and the thin material that only barely shaded the area between my legs. Strangely, now the two men's hands on my breasts were actually comforting as they rather absently stroked me without even looking at what they were doing. It reminded me a little of petting a cat in your lap as you watch an exciting movie -- no real attention spared from the main interest but adequate handling of the more realistic and direct control.

All five of them chattered and clustered about my waist as if, without the guy's guidance, they were on an unguided autopilot. With slightly more agitated and louder discussion, two found the sides of the waistband to my panties and pulled slightly outwards. They paused expectantly before, teasing themselves and each other with their slowness, they began edging them down my hips. Of course, more and more of my tummy came into view and I found that it was getting to me almost as much as to them.

Now, rather than the raucous excitement of a moment before, they were talking softly, whispering really, almost as if they were in an operating theater. Though they were all smiling, they seemed deadly serious now.

Then the panties were around my thighs, the wet material sticking between my legs as they were still held together at the ankles. Their interest stayed at the conjunction of my legs as they tired of the panties and quickly pulled them the rest of the way down and off. I thought in passing that when they switched hands on my ankles, I could have gotten at least one free. But to what end? With five guys and at least two of them with firm grips on me, it would mean absolutely nothing. I didn't try.

As they acted as if they were trying to figure out what to do next, the guy returned to my side with a plastic pan of water that steamed vapor as he set it down next to my side. As soon as he did, he indicated that they should move me over and all four men lifted my limbs and easily moved me a foot to the side. They settled me back down very gently.

We all watched as he squeezed the obviously hot water out of a washrag and rolled a bar of soap inside it for quite a while. It was a shock when he spoke, gestured for the men holding my ankles to spread my legs, and put his hand and the rag between my legs. I gasped in both surprise and the feel of the hot washcloth. They all chattered and laughed as he rubbed the washrag from my ass to my stomach and even onto my thighs before repeating the entire procedure, thoroughly soaking my front with soapy hot water.

Obviously incidentally, it was also quite a turn on. I even found myself spreading my knees to allow better access to his washing.

The rinsing was equally stimulating as he repeatedly squeezed out the rag, wiped up the soap, and repeated the procedure over and over until I thought it had to be thoroughly clean. I didn't know the Egyptians had any particular thing about having a woman so clean but, then, I didn't really have much experience anyway.

Finally, he wet the rag without squeezing the majority of the water from it and carefully arranged it between my legs and across my front in a much better (and warmer) cover than my panties had been. He washed his hands in the water, shook them off, and turned to me for the first time since he'd returned.

"Understand ...?" and an Arabic word. I most assuredly did understand. There'd been enough about its practice in Egypt in recent months, even making CNN news a couple of times and being introduced at the UN Women's Conference in Beijing. I almost swallowed my own tongue, my body going rigid.

Apparently historically, one of Egypt's traditions had held with female circumcision. That was really a euphemism since it had as little relationship to male circumcision as my present breasts had to these men's. What Egypt's female circumcision was, was the total removal of a woman's clitoris to prevent her from enjoying sex and, thus, leaving their husbands in search of something better. Usually, it was performed on pre-teen girls by religious leaders. But if the operation hadn't been done by the time a woman was married, the husband had the prerogative of having it performed on his wife.

This didn't take any thought to react against as he removed a shiny straight razor from his shirt pocket and flipped it open deftly. I screamed. I kicked. I pulled. I twisted. I did everything I could think of to get free. Fear sweat had broken out all over my body and, at separate times, I succeeded in getting both legs and one arm free, immediately being caught and held tighter. I got one good kick at someone. I didn't see who but it hurt my bare foot as much as anything. And I got a decent shot at a guy's face with my freed arm. The only thing that kept him on his feet, since it was delivered directly to the side of his chin, was my relatively weakened muscles. That was the first time any of them had done other than smile.

They all certainly held tighter and when the guy indicated for the men holding my legs to spread them, motioning outward as well as speaking in a stream of Arabic, I still had the energy to bow up my entire center from shoulders to heels.

The man who'd been standing by my head, moved around the table and pressed a well placed arm across my waist and pushed down hard enough to expel my breath when I finally had to release my arch. The only thing that kept me from doing the same thing again was that the guy leaned against one thigh and brought the razor down between my widely spread legs.

I didn't want to cut something off myself so, holding my breath, I froze in a vibrating statue.

Even with the man pressing down on my waist roughly, I could still see what the guy was doing. It surprised me a little when his unburdened fingers and thumb found my left labia and seemed to pull it tight. I cringed as the razor touched far out near my hip and scraped slowly toward the center. My squeal of fear increased in pitch and volume the closer he got to the center. Just as I was about to go off the deep end, he lifted it back up and started far out to the side again. As it came back toward the center, I heard someone saying, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

Almost as if waiting until I'd given up, he did it over and over again. I didn't give up, tensing with every inward movement.

When he let go and walked around the table, I allowed myself to breathe, finding that I had spots before my eyes from holding it or expelling it without taking on new oxygen.

On the other side of the table, his fingers found my right labia and pulled it tight while holding the razor at shoulder height. I heard, "No! No, no, no, no!" Oh, it was me.

I tensed into the same tight, quivering mass as the razor was lowered again and moved from the side into the center again. Again and again and again. This was torture far beyond the simple fact of what he intended to do when he finished playing with my fear.

Then his hand covered my spread slit and the razor went down the inside of one and then the other thigh a dozen times each until the strokes had met directly between my legs and below my pussy.

He stepped back, rinsed the razor and washcloth, said something, and then motioned again. The men holding my ankles moved to my head until my full weight was on my shoulders and I seemed to be looking straight up at my labia and wide-spread legs. In that position, almost unable to breathe, he again wiped and washed between my legs with the hot water. It seemed impossible that it was still hot. It seemed that it had been hours since he started this torture.

Then he took the cloth away again and had the men holding my ankles hold my asscheeks wide open. Almost painfully so, as the razor returned to its work. I felt it in the crack of my ass and, a few times, further forward until I was cringing with anticipation again and my cries were echoing off the walls.

He rinsed it off again before the men moved back down to the end of the table, stretching me out again. All four held my limbs with both hands now in a widespread "X". This was it, I thought, my head swimming with fear. All the rest had just been the buildup to the finale.

The man who'd been leaning on my stomach, moved back to my head and rearranged my hair again, brushing it and straightening it and its sweaty wetness. His hands went to the sides of my face and I knew numbing fear then.

I felt and could still see the guy lay across my stomach, the razor in his right hand as it lowered.

My legs were held hard enough that I knew my ankles would be bruised from the experience as were my wrists.

My clitoris was the absolute center of my universe. I could feel the gentle movements of the room's air across it, let alone the guy's warm breath when that washed across it. I can't conceive of how tensed I was for the first touch of the razor.

But when the touch came, I cringed and screamed but quickly realized that it had to be fingers touching it, not cold steel. Oh no! I thought. He wanted to make sure to get it all. It felt like he was squeezing it tightly and slowly pulling it upward and upward. He pulled it hard enough that it was at the very highest end of the margin between pain and something else entirely. Something just barely less than pain. Then the line was crossed firmly as he pulled harder on the super sensitive flesh.

It seemed impossible that rather than feeling what I expected, I felt the hardest, most intense, most comprehensive orgasm I've even heard of, let alone experienced myself.

As if it knew what was about to happen to it, it took advantage of its last chance.

At that moment, he could have cut it off and I don't really think I would have felt it as more than a slight increase in the feelings I was already having. I was already into sensual overload.

What I didn't realize was that he'd pocketed the razor after letting me see it. While I was in the throes of the biggest orgasm I'd certainly ever had, he moved to the end of the table between my spread legs and began lapping up my come as it cascaded out of my pussy.

Fingers (not his) went to both my nipples and began to roughly squeeze and pull them. That, I think, was the only thing that brought me back to myself so quickly.

But when his teeth found my clit, rubbing dangerously across it as the men almost lifted me from the table by my nipples, I lost it again. Hard hard hard.

Though the guy's head wasn't between my spread legs and no one was touching my breasts, I still woke in the same position some time later.

Chapter 3

THE GUY WASN'T in the room and everyone else was just standing around the table looking at me when I opened my eyes. It took me a minute to see that the pan of water and the other items were no longer on the table at my side.

I didn't have to see between my legs to know my clit was still there. It tingled rather pleasantly, along with the freshly shaved skin around it. But it certainly didn't hurt like I'm sure it would have if my fears had been realized.

My nipples were red and still hard on their little secondary mounds. My breathing was coming back under control though my mouth was so dry I didn't think I could even swallow.

My body was limp so it seemed totally unnecessary for the four men to be holding my wrists and ankles. They seemed to sense that and weren't holding tightly enough to do more than keep them all spread wide. It was almost too bad that I didn't have the energy to fight my way loose now since it might be possible.

They all nodded at me, gave me thumbs up, smiled, or give whatever part of me they were holding a gentle stroke as I looked at them in turn. The man at my head gently brushed my hair into that wild fan around my head.

The guy came back then from the other room, a bathroom I thought, with the pan in his hands. This time, I could tell it wasn't over full because he wasn't straining as he had been when it was filled with water. He set it on one of the tables away from me and I couldn't see into it. Smiling, he walked to the edge of the table between my legs and winked -- something I hadn't seen an Egyptian do.

I cringed far out of proportion to the touch of his fingers on my labia. His finger drove little tingles all through the area as they brushed over the shaven skin. Tensing my legs had made the men holding my ankles grab more firmly and rolled my middle up to his fingers. I may have even had a small orgasm with the touch. I looked down between my breasts and watched him touch me. All seven of us were concentrated on that few square inches of skin.

I know all of us could see the way my labia were swollen because I really had the poorest viewing angle of anyone. We could all see the way they spread with just slight urging from the guy's fingers and the shiny wetness between them. We could all see the way my clit stood up hard, large, and almost seeking a touch from someone. I could actually move it in a way that reminded of the way my cock had moved before when it was hard.

He brushed the shaven skin and then rubbed his fingers together and made a face with his nose crinkling. In retrospect, I think he was asking if it was itchy and it certainly was. But I didn't react to the question he seemed to be asking.

I guess he didn't need an answer because he turned to his pan and brought out a bottle of blue liquid that I recognized as some type of aftershave lotion. Knowing from a lifetime of shaving every morning what it was going to feel like, I clenched my teeth and tensed even before he'd finishing pouring a healthy amount into the palm of his hand. I put my head back and screamed as he brushed his hand across one side of my labia, coating it with the cold liquid that burned like fire.

Of course, I was screaming with the orgasms I was having and not from any real pain. Probably, none of them realized that unless they could look at my spasming pussy. Even then, they might not realize the difference.

Again enjoying my torture, he waited until I'd settled down somewhat before doing the same thing to the other side of my labia, ensuring his fingers touched every part of me he'd shaved. He didn't wait for me to come back down then but got some more of the stinging liquid and splashed it between my widely spread legs and down all the way between my ass cheeks.

I couldn't believe what it felt like on the sensitive skin of my asshole.

I'm pretty sure he didn't think it was entirely pleasant for me, though it was. Instead, he poured more and more into his palm and actively looked for other sensitive parts of my body to put it on. He found my tiny pussy lips, my clit, and all around my asshole. As if it wasn't enough, he continued with each of my breasts where I was surprised how intense the feeling was. Maybe from the rough treatment earlier.

I was just settling from that series of orgasms when I heard a jar lid opened and looked down at him, still between my legs. I hadn't focused on what he was doing when I caught the smell of menthol.

I'd been surprised when I came to Egypt how few American products were available but, perhaps, even more surprised by the ones which were. Vicks Vaporub, a staple of my winter cold requirements, was one of those. And that's what he held in his hand. If you've used it on your nose as I have, you know that its menthol vapors soften, moisten, and keep your nasal passages open for a considerable time. Overnight, at least. But you also know that it stings. It might take several seconds until you feel it begin. And then it seems to build for another few seconds until you wonder if you'll be able to stand it. It stays like that for another minute, continually diminishing until you forget it or it stops.

I had no idea of what he was going to do with the stuff or what it would feel like. But I was pretty sure of the general areas he might be interested in and wasn't at all sure what it would feel like. If I'd be able to stand it.

He explained it to his friends holding me before offering it to the guy holding my right wrist. Taking some on his finger, they chattered for a minute, waving his finger around in the air, before he nodded and lowered it to my right nipple.

The cold grease was a minor shock that I jumped at. As it began to burn, I twisted as if I could move it away from the greasy coating. It centered my entire attention on that little swollen bud as the burning increased just as it did on your nose. I was squirming wildly with the feel of it and wondering if I could stand the minutes until it stopped. Since he'd only put a little on the tip and around the top of my nipple, I wasn't excited about it when his fingers spread more around all of the nipple and onto the swollen areola below. The burning increased and moved even as his fingers began moving the slippery grease all around and over my nipple.

When he began pinching, pulling up, and letting it slip out of his fingers, my orgasms started in a big way. My breast could have been Mt. Everest and seemed no bigger than it did in my mind now.

I don't know how long they lasted or anything that happened around me but finally, it all settled down to a rather pleasant feeling of his slippery fingers rubbing across my nipple and areola without the burning sensation. The tingling of it remained.

My eyes hadn't opened yet when I felt the touch on my left nipple. I was so out of it still, I didn't realize what it was let alone know that it would feel the same as the right had. The same intensity. The same reactions. The same results.

Finally, finding it difficult to catch my breath at all through my panting, it passed and the continued manipulation of my greasy nipples became rather enjoyable.

"Miss. Miss? Miss?" I heard as I had on the street before this began. I opened my eyes and looked down at the guy, who was speaking. He held up a relatively small dollop of Vicks on his finger and grinned. I watched, horrified, as he purposefully lowered it until the greasy menthol touched my clitoris. Knowing exactly what to expect, I screamed before I could feel more than the touch of the cold grease and the tip of his finger as he spread it over the sensitive skin.

Then it started to burn, he moved his hand well away from the area, and I began spasming with orgasms. He progressed over a period of time I'll never be able to determine. First, he spread it on one labia, then the other with ample time for orgasms between. I regained some kind of consciousness of my surroundings to his hand rubbing through the grease from the top of my slit, almost to my pussy but not quite.

I knew what the next goal for his grease covered finger would be. I wasn't surprised when he plunged two fingers into me and gave me ample time to learn for myself exactly where each reactive nerve in that part of my body was. Clinically, I noticed that the most sensitive nerves were right around the opening, only slightly inside and most sensitive at the outside.

Finally, as I aroused again, I thought it was over. It had to be. There was nowhere else that could be aroused to this extent and now I didn't think even the application of new amounts of the grease would stimulate the old spots. If I'd have been able to work up any kind of look on my face, it might have been a sort of "nya, nya, you can't do it again." If I had, it would have been ill advised since, when I looked at him, he still had the grin and a finger covered with grease. Horrified, I watched him lower it between my legs and then felt his touch on my anus. I hadn't even thought of that and didn't know you could get an orgasm from having it stimulated.

When I woke up, there wasn't any light coming in the slats in the shutters and the only light in the large room was in the living area. The men were drinking tea and talking over the Arabic music in there. I was too weak to move from my spread-eagled position on the table and drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 4

I WOKE SOME time later in the agony of a very full bladder. I was so weak, I could hardly move and I wondered if my moan would even attract any attention. Luckily, it did and the guy and his friends were soon around me though only one grabbed a weak wrist.

He had to lean close and I had to swallow and try to get some moisture in my mouth before I could mumble "W.C." And then I had to repeat it three more times before he understood and could hear me well enough.

When he understood, he got two of the guys to help me from the tabletop. I was glad they didn't just let me go because my legs were useless.

The bathroom was unusually large and uncluttered for an Egyptian room. Primarily that was because it didn't have the washer that most expat bathrooms had to have.

I hadn't noticed or cared that my breasts and the entire area between my legs was coated with grease. Now I did as they moved me over the toilet. The lid was up and I hoped they would notice that before sitting me down and leaving. They may have noticed, but they didn't sit me down and they didn't leave. Instead, the four who weren't holding me, arranged themselves and looked between my legs as the other two held me with one leg on either side of the open stool. The guy motioned with a hand, said something in Arabic, and returned to watching between my legs. I knew then that they were going to watch me empty my bladder and anything else I might have to do.

I didn't have a choice. I really had to go bad and I physically couldn't hold it any longer. Not looking at them, I released my muscles and felt the fluid draining from me. The relief to my bladder nearly overcame my disgust at watching them excitedly watching me do it.

I felt even more embarrassment and disgust for them when my bladder was nearly empty and I felt my bowels release their contents from that greasy orifice. They chattered gleefully as they watched.

The guy asked if I was finished with an Arabic word I recognized. I nodded and he proceeded to begin wiping me with large amounts of toilet paper

-- something unusual in an Egyptian bathroom -- beginning with my greasy nipples and moving down to my slit, my pussy, and then my ass. The remnants of the Vicks tingled and burned a little as he did it and that instigated another, though mild, orgasm.

I leaned on the two guys with my arms as someone started bath water running. It sounded wonderful and, after a few short minutes, it was full enough to cover the bottom of the tub and they lifted me in and let me lay down.

All six of them lounged around the room or leaned on the edge of the tub as it filled with hot water. It felt wonderful, even with the audience, and I soon fell asleep again.

I woke again when someone ducked my head under the water level. Totally panicked now, I came up sputtering and ready to scream. The water was off now and the guy was pouring shampoo into his palm. Since it was obvious that he wasn't going to dunk me again, I decided to enjoy having my hair washed.

When he stopped roughly kneading my scalp, I held up a hand, held my nose, and ducked under the water myself. He rinsed it out while I held my breath. I had to brush the wet hair out of my face when I came back up and, while I did that, he lifted me to a sitting position with the water around my lower rib cage.

It was sort of enjoyable to be washed, even if it was a little rough. He did my arms and armpits, my back until the itches stopped, then my breasts. Very thoroughly. I was glad that the soap suds showed clearly that the greasy Vicks was finally completely washed off.

One of my arm holders stood and lifted me to a standing position where I watched the guy wash the rest of my stomach and then, indicating with motions what I should do, between my legs as I stood on one (now much stronger) and the tiptoe of the other. He was about to drive me to another orgasm with the washing when he had the other man help turn me around to face the wall. For a long time, he washed between my ass cheeks and legs again, finally pulling just a small orgasm free.

As if that was what he was awaiting, he finished by washing my legs and feet. While he was doing that, I had my first real opportunity to look at my swollen and completely shaven pubic mound. I thought it was excitingly cute. Like a little girl's though I hadn't seen a girl older than two or three and younger than twenty or so. The babies had looked like this and I imagined that girls up to puberty did as well.

He let the water out of the tub and the one man helped me to step over the edge. The other arm holder joined him, holding my other arm to steady me as the other four, each with a scratchy towel, dried my body. It was very flattering and sensual as they all rubbed me roughly. When they stopped, I was pink from one end to the other and nothing was left even moist except my hair.

They didn't have to help me then, but they still did as we moved into the living room where they gave me one of the two heavy upholstered chairs. I crossed my legs but didn't even bother trying to cover my naked breasts as someone made tea and brought a tray of glasses, offering me one as well as passing out the others. The sweet, hot drink felt and tasted good. The heavy amounts of sugar made me feel like I'd had an infusion of energy.

Warm. Thoroughly massaged and pink all over. Sexually satisfied beyond my wildest dreams. Attention from six people who obviously thought I was some type of answer to their own dreams.

Comfort. Flattery. Fulfillment. What more could anyone ask? The only thing I could think of was freedom and that didn't seem to be in the cards. At least for a while.

The guy, from where he sat on a straight chair near mine, touched my arm and proceeded to demonstrate with words (Arabic) and motions (more understandable) what I figured was probably the next stop on this seeming non- stop marathon of sexual adventures. His hand shaped into a circle that he started at the front of his pants. It didn't take any brains to understand he was suggesting a hand around a cock. Holding my attention, he lifted the circle of his hand to his mouth and opened wide and made a motion with hand and head that did a reasonable impersonation of someone sucking cock.

Then he mimed someone enjoying doing that, smiling and acting as if she were hugging something in the air. Then he frowned and repeated the actions with his hands behind his back and a considerable frown but still the open circle of mouth and the up and down movement. I thought I got the idea. If I wanted, I could suck him off freely and, apparently, enjoy it. Or I could do it with my hands behind my back and not so much freedom but with the same result.

"You?" I said. Trying to make sure I understood, I shaped my hand and lips as he had, moved in the same way he had, and then pointed from me to him and back several times. He nodded and smiled brightly. Then he pointed at each of the other men in turn and said," Wa hoa. Wa hoa. Wa hoa. Wa hoa. Wa hoa." "And him. And him. Etcetera." Then he said something else and again demonstrated the method with the hands behind the back and still doing the rest without the smile. I got the message.

I was to suck them all off freely, or I was going to do it with their help. My choice. I'd done it to the jeweler so I already knew it wasn't terrible. But I hated the idea of being forced to do anything. At least maybe, I'd feel a little better about it if I wasn't being physically forced. I shrugged and everyone broke out in excited and happy chatter. Anticipation, I thought.

They didn't slow down as I finished my tea and looked around at each of them, not figuring out at all what was being discussed.

Then the man two away from me on the couch partially stood and lowered his pants and underwear before sitting back down, blushing all over in front of his friends. The guy touched me on the shoulder and indicated I should go to him.

I had to take a deep breath, but decided it was going to happen. My only control was in how it was going to happen. And I'd lose that control if I didn't do what was asked within a few seconds.

I stood up and walked across the few steps to where the man sat on the couch, watching him cringe and squirm in the seat as I neared. His hand around his cock, the man looked to be moderately sized as I knelt in front of his knees and put my hands on the top of his thighs. His knees were tied together by his lowered pants so I had to sit up as much as possible in order to get close. My breasts pressed into his legs rather uncomfortably.

To reach him properly, I sat back and motioned for him to move forward on the couch. He was nearly laid flat in this position as I leaned forward again and took his cock out of his hand with the fingers of both hands. It was almost funny. He turned pale. Then he flushed. He gasped. Then he chattered too fast and too loud for a minute. All nervousness. At least he seemed to be clean. That was something.

I wondered if he was going to come as I used my fingers to search the shape of it. He may have been a little more than an inch through and, I'd guess, perhaps seven inches long. Moderate. I licked my lips and watched him pale again, before kissing the purple tip. He moaned and squirmed again. I licked it and he cringed. It tasted all right. Nothing particularly notable.

I opened my mouth wide and slid my lips down around it until it hit the back of my mouth. I cringed at that but it was nothing like his reaction. I only had time to slide back up the length slowly before I felt and tasted the shot of come in my mouth. It even took me by surprise that he could do it that fast.

But, I figured, if I was going to have to do this to all of them, it was good if they went off in 10 seconds flat. Somehow, I doubted that would be the rule.

Since I didn't want to swallow the come particularly, I let it roll down his length as I used my fingers to move up and down him to milk out the contents. Two dollops shot into my mouth and back out of my lips but the other, lesser shots dribbled down his length and into his pubic hair.

Though, as a blowjob it had been shitty, he seemed more than satisfied with it all. I was glad.

When I sat up and looked around a little, I saw that all the eyes in the room were on me and all seemed excited and appreciative. So it might be okay.

Unimaginative, I thought, the next guy on the couch unzipped and pushed his pants down. His only sop to innovation was that he leaned far over and pushed them all the way to one foot, kicked his shoe off, and freed his leg completely. He grinned wildly as he slid down to the edge of the couch and spread his legs wide.

I nodded and knee walked over to him and took his only partially hardened cock in one hand. It didn't wait for me to do anything else before hardening and the guy arched at the touch. I wondered if he'd even wait for me.

I looked at it critically and saw that it was a similar size to the first but uncircumcised. He was clean, at least, and that I was grateful for. The only distinguishing feature of this guy was a pair of the biggest balls I've ever seen. Though, as a guy, I didn't go around looking at other guys nuts, I'd seen more than the average girl, I'm sure. Team showers. College dorms. A couple of twosome visits to prostitutes in the service. And, of course, my own which had been considerably smaller though my cock was bigger.

The fingers of one hand played with those massive balls while the other circled his cock and skinned it back so I could put my mouth over the head. I hoped fervently that it would have the same effect as the last guy but it didn't. This one, I had to work a little harder for, my mouth going up and down his length a dozen times before I felt like he was almost ready. When I thought it was only seconds away, he spread his legs wider and found my breasts, particularly my nipples, with both hands.

Curled around me that way, he shot into my mouth and squeezed. It was really pretty enjoyable even though I had to swallow some of his come because of the position. He still ended up with the majority of it in his pubic hair as I sat back up on my haunches. He had his head back on the back of the couch now, looking very satisfied.

As I looked around, everyone made sure I looked toward the man in the corner in the other overstuffed chair. I got up and met him just as he gained his feet. He met me and put his arms around me for a big sloppy kiss before anything else. Still excited, he soon broke the kiss and pushed me away a little to unzip and remove his pants. I went back down on my knees in front of him, watching as he got them off one leg and stood proudly in front of me. He had nothing to be proud of.

While the first guy had a moderate sized cock and the second had huge balls, this guy had nothing even though he was one of the largest guys in the room. His cock couldn't have been longer than five or six inches and his balls almost disappeared between his legs. Again, he was clean and, this time, very hard with a dark purple head shaped like a mushroom. I thought it was sort of cute, in a strange way. I also knew exactly what I was going to do with it and how I was going to make him come so fast it'd make his head spin.

His hardness held it out straight and more so my fingers on it would have been unnecessary. I put my lips around it and sucked lightly. As I did, I put my fingers between his legs and found my finger at the opening of his anus. He gasped as I touched it. Then I sucked for real and pushed at the tight opening at the same time.

When I sucked, I could just get it to the opening of my throat and my finger perhaps a half inch into his butt. When I went back, it hovered at falling out before I sucked hard again and my tongue could play with the tip. He was moaning loudly.

The fourth time I did that, my finger went in quite a lot further and I felt his come at the back of my mouth at the same time. Since there wasn't too much, I swallowed as he came wildly. Then it was done, I kissed it rather sweetly, and he staggered back into the chair. He mumbled some things in Arabic and I hoped it wasn't to share the secret of what I'd done with my finger cause I didn't really want to have to do it to each of them.

I was sitting on my haunches again as one of the remaining guys lay down on the carpet beside me and stripped his pants all the way off before pulling his shirt up under his armpits. This was the guy who had been holding my head when I was on the table and he smiled brightly as I turned to him.

I turned and crawled past his head and looked down.

While the big guy had been a disappointment in this department, this one was exactly the opposite. Though only a little over an inch across, it almost reached his bellybutton. It had to be 10 inches with an uncircumcised purple head. Thank god, it was as clean as the rest.

As I crawled past to inspect it closer, he slid one arm between my legs and kept me from turning away. And when I lifted that strange length and put my lips around it, he put his hand between my legs with his thumb against my clit and the side of his fingers along my slit. Then he started flexing his hand, rubbing me, as I went down it until it touched the back of my mouth and gagged me slightly.

I think two fingers went into my pussy, his thumb still on my clit, as I moved back up him and then down again. This time I let it go into my throat a little and found that it was better than letting it hit my gag center. I could concentrate on my pussy anyway.

I know I sucked him longer than the others but when he came, he filled my mouth and now I enjoyed the sticky fluid in my mouth and swallowed it with relish. I came at the same time he did though I don't think the rest of the guys saw it.

He was still laying there as the fifth guy pulled his pants off and leaned back into the couch beside his friends. Before I'd gotten to him, I saw that he was about the same length as his "normal" friends but was quite big around and uncircumcised. When I got on my knees, I could smell him and wrinkled my nose at it. He smelled like BO and shit. It was disgusting.

Rather than trying to insist he do something about it, I just kept my hands away from him, only put my lips around the tip, and used my tongue to clean the small portion inside my mouth. That was enough for him. Like the first guy, he came in seconds and I rejoiced before smiling at him and getting away as fast as possible.

Now, there was only one left. The guy. I wondered what he would be like as I knee walked to his chair beside mine.

"You do," he said, motioning at his pants. Knowing this was the last, I did as I was told and undid his pants and then found the waistband of pants and underwear to pull them down. His only help was to lift his ass off the chair cushion and to the edge before lifting one foot to let me take the mass of clothing off.

I was more than a little surprised to see that he was soft. Sort of a dark brown mass laying between his legs. I knew it was bigger than the others, none of the others could have reached so close to the chair cushion even if they'd been able to turn them that direction when hard. And none but the last one had been as big through. And this was soft. What was he going to be like when it was hard?

He only smiled, self-satisfied, as my fingers went to it and lifted it up above his thighs. Though it was like holding a wet dishrag, I put my fingers around it and began jacking it up and down. When it remained the consistency of a wet rag, I skinned back the foreskin and licked around the flared head. This, at last, began to have a rewarding result as it started hardening.

But now I worried because it increasingly showed that it was impossibly large and still growing larger. Kissing the head, I thought now it was at least two inches across with the flare probably larger. The narrowing below the head was smaller of course but I thought the part below that might have been as big around as the flare.

I put my mouth around the head and it fit but my mouth was too wide open. Almost painfully so and I could easily look down the hardening length so near my eyes. He had to be a foot long and, hard, more than two inches through. It was huge and I knew absolutely that I couldn't even get it to the back of my mouth, let alone any further. I would have to get him off with my hands on his cock and only his head in my mouth.

I began using the relatively loose uncircumcised skin to jack him off while I licked and kissed and sucked at the end. Then I used my fingers and fingernails to excite his big balls and their considerable sack below.

"More," he moaned, and put both hands on the back of my head and pulled hard onto him. The huge cock sunk into my mouth and the head was at the back of my mouth uncomfortably. Still, much more was out than in and tears came to my eyes with the effort and fear of it.

God, how much come would this monster produce? Would it just blow my head off?

Now he started moving my mouth up and down on it until my teeth were behind the flared head and then the head was at the back of my mouth with his hand pushing my head down almost painfully. There was just no way he could get it into my throat though. Knowing it wouldn't be over until he got off, I tried to help as much as possible with my hands on his balls and the rest of his cock, my fingers barely touching around him.

Then he grunted and shot into my mouth. Feeling it directly on my gag reflex, I opened my mouth impossibly wide and enough got out around it to relieve any problem. Actually I think it shot out around his cock. If I hadn't closed my throat purposely, I'm sure the pressure would have made the nasty stuff come out my nose like a Coke when you laugh at the wrong time.

As I took my mouth off it, totally relieved to be done with this, he fell back bonelessly in the chair and mumbled something to the other guys. The two who had been holding my arms all along, helped me to my feet and into the bathroom. They turned on the sink as if demonstrating and let me sit down on the toilet without interference. Then they left.

I pissed a gallon, shit for a while, washed myself with the Egyptian spray hose, and then washed out my mouth with a considerable amount of water from the sink before washing my face and drying.

There was tea waiting for me at the overstuffed chair as I returned and sat down. All of them were smiling at me including the guy. It tasted a little sweeter than I thought the load of coarse sugar deserved.

Chapter 5

AS WE ALL drank our tea and I regained my equilibrium, they talked in varying degrees of excitement in Arabic. I should explain that Egyptians are naturally loud. Boisterous. And they use their hands to talk like Greeks and Italians though, possibly, not as expressively. At least, they have a wide range of intonation and pitch, unlike Americans, who tend to be relatively bland in their delivery.

The sound of Arabic is downright offensive to the American ear since it has a lot of guttural sounds and others that sound for all the world like someone clearing their throat. One letter, appropriately called a cough, sounds much that way and peppers conversation. The combination of these attributes makes the language sound as if the people are deeply meshed in an argument even when the words are quite unassuming.

Because of that, I didn't really listen to what they were saying any more than I did anything else I'd heard on the streets. In fact, I just sat back and enjoyed the tea and the relative peace of just sitting.

Physically extended further than I had been in a long time, I lay my head back on the back of the heavy chair and drifted off. I woke up to a touch on my arm and looked at the guy through a sort of mist of denied sleep. I wondered what time it was.

I was more than a little surprised when he led me to the bedroom and pointed to a pile of clothing and a pair of shoes chosen from the things I'd purchased before I'd met this group. He indicated I should put the things on and I really couldn't figure out what was going on. Somehow, I was sure they weren't ready to let me go, though I hoped that was the case, and this seemed rather negative to their earlier efforts.

I wasn't in a position to argue, of course, and put on the filmy blouse and extremely short skirt while the guy smiled and watched. He didn't help me put on the shoes or in any other way. Since I hadn't worn them, I still wasn't used to the very high heels as he indicated I should follow him back to the living room.

One of the men was sitting in the chair I'd been in and the others had vacated the couch, I noticed. He indicated I should sit down there. I worked hard to be ladylike as I went to the couch, sat down, crossed my legs at the knee, and tried to cover myself adequately with the short skirt.

I still didn't have the vaguest idea of what was going on even when one of the guys moved over onto the couch beside me.

Blushing as his friends watched us, he leaned close and began talking to me in a rather seductive voice. Of course, I didn't know what he was saying but the delivery sounded seductive and his friends grinned and nudged each other. As he talked, he put his hand on the top of my bare leg. Just a reaction, I caught it and moved it away. He got up with a shrug and another took his place.

This one also talked to me but still in Arabic but then, thinking hard, he looked at me and pointed to himself and then to me and back again with an expectant look. I didn't know what he was asking but it obviously involved the two of us.

"I don't think so," I said and shook my head. He tried again, pointing to his hand and my leg. Again I said no and he stood up and went back to sitting on the floor. Another took his place immediately.

"You? Me?" he said, pointing from one to the other of us. "Fuck? Yes?"

"No," I said and moved away from him. Now I thought I had an idea of what was going on. They were practicing on me as if they could use these approaches on someone on the street. I decided to play along and be as resistant as I would have been in any other circumstances. After all, as it stood now, these guys had all seen me naked for hours, had made me climax a dozen or more times, had given me a bath, and had made me give them all blowjobs. If they were going to fuck me, they could obviously take the same approach as before. Hold me down and do it. They didn't have to seduce me.

But, as long as they were playing games, I decided I'd make it at least a little realistic for them.

The next one sat down beside me and touched my lips. It was rather a sweet gesture and I let him lower his mouth to mine. Unfortunately, he was in too big a hurry and almost simultaneously with the touch of his lips, his hand cupped my breast. I didn't even hesitate but pushed him back and slapped his face. Hard. He looked shocked first and then mad but the others talked to him and he backed off. If I'd been alone with him, I'm not so sure what would have happened but I don't really think he'd have backed off.

The next sat down and half turned on the couch to look at me. His eyes roamed from my face to my knees and back up several times.

"Very beautiful," he said. Then, on the next pass, repeated it as if a compliment could win it all. At least I wasn't going to smack him for that. He looked then at my lips and gestured between them and his before tentatively moving to kiss me. I waited for where he was going to touch but he didn't. Instead, he progressed the kiss from very sweet to a slight insinuation of his tongue between my lips. I didn't open my mouth for him so he continued to kiss me, his hand finally coming to rest on my side well away from either leg or breast.

It was really pretty enjoyable until he too quickly moved his hand down to my leg and then immediately up the side of my thigh with the skirt in hand. I stiffened and pushed him away. Apparently, that was the criteria -- one rejection. Because he sat back away from the kiss, made a gesture like he had screwed up, and moved away. I certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell him that if he'd backed off a little and tried again with a different approach later, it might have worked.

The fourth and fifth guys both tried no English and were far too fast in their approach. Neither demanded a slap -- something I was a little afraid of now -- but I pushed both away to disqualify them.

Now it was the guy's turn and I wondered if he was running this clinic on how to do it. I couldn't help but wonder if he was any better at it than the other guys or if he was as inexperienced. I didn't plan on giving him any breaks just because he seemed to be the leader.

He sat down beside me and turned enough to pay full attention to me. That in itself was something of a turn-on for a girl as I now was. He kept his eyes sweeping in a limited pattern over my face and down only to my chest, not even really inspecting my titties as the others had so obviously.

He had a far greater vocabulary than the others who seemed to be listening raptly for any pointers.

"Nose," he said, touching the tip of my nose. "You know gamila? Beautiful? Yes?"

"Yes," I said and smiled for him. His finger traced it from the bridge of my nose down to my lips. "Gamila," he sighed.

"Eyes. Mmmm," he moaned. He said a word in Arabic that I thought meant blue then elaborated in very poetic sounding Arabic that his buddies chuckled at lasciviously. His fingers traced my eyebrows and my forehead very softly.

"Your hair," he said and again launched into poetic Arabic. Lilting and pretty sounding as he lifted a large bunch from the side of my head and bounced it on his palm.

"Skin. Soft," he said with the first descriptive term to go with a noun besides beautiful. His fingers brushed my cheek softly. As his finger touched my temple, it pushed my hair away from my ear and his finger touched the outside of it.

"Ears. So beautiful. Gamila owie." I knew that for very beautiful. His finger felt good touching it and I shivered with it. It traced back along my chin to my mouth.

"Your lips. Like soft cherry." Wow! A metaphor. I couldn't help but smile. "So soft. So gamila," he sighed from only an inch away from my lips before he lowered his mouth to mine. His lips touched mine so softly, it was almost like a whisper, his tongue tip tracing their shape. It was working for him. I was breathing harder than I had been and had lost complete track of our audience. He did that for just long enough that I wanted more and found my hand at the side of his neck to pull him closer. Only then did he really kiss me. It progressed relatively quickly and somewhat out of my control. I found his tongue in my mouth soon and didn't really know how it had gotten there. But I liked it anyway. I liked the way he pulled away and kissed my nose before delving back in again. I liked the way he pulled away and kissed along my chin to my ear, sending shivers through me, before entering my mouth again.

I'd felt his hand on my side for a long time before he moved it up further under my arm pit and, by the time he finally found my breast, I'd been wishing for it for quite a while, wanting him to touch it. When he turned me across his lap, his arm cradling my back and his kiss returning, I didn't mind at all. And when his hand went into the partially opened front of my blouse, I only wondered why it had taken so long for him to touch me.

I don't know when he unbuttoned it completely or if, perhaps, I did it for him, but I knew when he began switching from one naked breast to the other and it felt wonderful as he did it. The room was silent except for our heavy breathing and the wispy sounds of his movements across my breasts.

Reluctantly, I let him break the extended kiss that had made my lips raw from his chewing and sucking, still holding his neck, but I didn't feel badly as I felt his lips find my nipple, his hand find the other. I lay across his lap with my head back over his arm as he suckled and chewed at my tender nipples and the surrounding areolas.

If you are a man and from my unique understanding, I can tell you that you have never felt anything so wonderfully enjoyable and, in its way dangerous, in your life as that time he spent on my nipples. Though it felt so very fantastic, there was always the edge of danger, knowing he could bite one off at any moment.

His first touch on my leg was near my knee. If I'd been in a condition to remember the audience, I'd have known it was the knee against the back of the couch and the least likely to show them anything. Even pulling it closer to him allowed me to stay covered by the short skirt on the side facing the others. With what he was doing to my nipples still, I was only barely letting the thought of where he was touching my leg intrude.

It attracted my attention a little more when his fingers traced up the inside of my thigh to a spot only a couple of inches from my pussy before turning back down. My leg, against the back of the couch and bent so my shoe touched my bottom, reacted to every tiny touch and his touches were light, tickling almost, and gentle. He had me moaning with need as he began sucking harder at my nipple and lifting his head so it was pulled into a tight cone above my chest before letting it slip free and doing it again. I was gasping at each of those attacks.

He touched my other leg, again near my knee and, after running his fingernails up and down the inside of my thigh a dozen agonizing times, finally put his hand around my leg near the knee and pulled upward. If I'd really thought of it, I'd have seen myself with both heels nestled against my ass and my legs widely spread and covered only by a token flap of the short skirt.

When his hand went up my outside hip, taking the skirt with it, and began to rub across my stomach, I could hardly stand the suspense of it. I didn't know or care that I was naked from the waist down now before these six men.

I was very ready when his hand covered my pussy, the palm warm in the trench of my cunt and over my clit, his fingers all around my spasming pussy hole. It might have been impossible, with all the lubrication, for him to have moved in any way without at least one finger sliding into me. but I think it was more than one. At least two but maybe even three.

I arched with the huge climax and may have even screamed with it as well. It was very mellow and very enjoyable, taking me to soft blue places with many many pillows and fluttering breezes.

Somewhere amongst that, I realized that someone was kissing me in spite of the guy's mouth still covering my breast. I didn't bother to figure it out but only put a hand up to clasp the man behind the head as his tongue went into my mouth over and over, upside down or from one side. It was a luscious feeling.

Then another mouth covered my other breast and my other hand went around that neck. I gasped and moaned with the feel of the moving fingers and wonderful mouths on me.

Both my legs went into the air and spread when I felt the exuberant, if less restrained tongue dive into my cascading pussy, the man's hands on my hips to hold me to his lips. Of course, my orgasms were continuous and wild now.

If there had been anything left for me then, it would have been taken away as someone took my left shoe off and I felt someone sucking hard on my toes, one at a time, one after another. Left, I guess, with only that, the other shoe was taken off and dropped to the floor as my other foot went into a mouth.

What an unbelievable feeling! My cunt. My tits. My mouth. My toes. Everything being sucked and manipulated as I pushed my tongue out and into the man's. He took it in his mouth as if it were a nipple or toe and sucked so hard I thought he might pull it out.

My orgasms were unbelievable! Continuous! At the maximum! And I couldn't even scream now!

Chapter 6

APPARENTLY THEIR GOAL had been to make me climax and actually enjoy it. Perhaps to seduce instead of force. Whatever the goal, they'd gained what they wanted because I was left gasping with enjoyment. Total enjoyment like very few women and no men at all can experience or have.

They left me like that, my clothes in disarray, laying on my back on the couch. I don't know what they did or how long they left me alone like that. But when I woke somewhat, I could barely open my eyes but felt somewhat rested. No one was in the room. I moved my legs together, feeling the cool air across my naked front, and pushed my skirt down to cover it a little. I fell back to sleep.

When I woke again, the guy was working my blouse off my arm, lifting to pull it out from under me, and off the other arm. Someone else had unfastened and pulled down my skirt again. I was nude amongst six guys again and too tired to even enjoy it, I thought.

Someone sat me up on the couch and supported me while another put a glass of tea in my hand.

"W.C.?" someone said and I let them take me, letting me sit down but more than one of them watching while I did what I needed to do. I used the hose to wash myself again before they helped me back to my feet and back into the living room. They put me back in the same position on the couch and helped me with the tea until it was all gone.

I protested weakly when they sat me up and one put his arms around me from behind while another lifted my legs. It was a short trip, just to the floor nearby, though. Again they spread me out on my back, my arms and legs spread widely but unattended this time. It was really a little more comfortable than the couch this way.

As I lay there I thought maybe they were going to leave me alone to sleep but it wasn't to be.

Someone, obviously a guy, lay down beside me and snuggled up to my side. I really just wanted to sleep.

I don't know how many of them it took but they lifted one arm and one leg and rolled my torso to the side toward the man already there. Then they spread my legs again as I lay on top of him and I realized my arms were along the outside of the man's legs, my head between them. There was plenty of light when I opened my eyes and looked down at the masculine equipment. Someone was massaging my back and saying something demanding though I didn't understand the Arabic.

Hands on my hips moved me downward a little and my cheek was resting directly against the man's pubic hair. Someone lifted my head (I really wasn't that totally out of it) and pulled my lips apart. I opened my eyes to see the moderate sized cock near my lips before it went in my mouth.

If whoever was below me hadn't chosen exactly that second to suck up my clit, making me gasp, I'm not sure what I would have done. But, as it was, I moved my elbows inside the man's legs, spreading him, and began sucking on the length of flesh as he licked at me.

Except for supporting my head, I really had to do very little. I wasn't on my knees. I didn't have to move my middle. And his middle rolled up and back, stroking into my mouth rhythmically. My center was rolling into his mouth too as I felt his cock let go of its load into my mouth.

I swallowed it all as he swallowed me. It tasted pretty good, as if it were some kind of sustenance in this long day without food.

I felt someone else beside us and looked down below my waist.

"Are you going to eat me, too?" I asked and the guy nodded and smiled wildly. I don't know whether he knew what I was saying or not but when he helped move over and take his cock in my hand, his tongue found my pussy immediately. I licked and tickled and then sunk down on his cock, recognizing it for one of the six but not remembering really which face it went with.

I sucked hard and he sucked harder until I was bucking on top of him and he was shooting come into my mouth.

It came as no surprise at all when I felt the next guy at my side but I turned to him and said, "You'll just have to fuck my mouth cause I don't think I can come again." I don't know what he said as he helped me get over him in the same position I'd been in with the others.

He had to have been the most exuberant of the group at eating cunt, his tongue lapping at me from clit to asshole with a major stop to drop deep into my pussy for its juices.

I think this was the dirty one but I didn't really care at that point and quickly felt his testicles empty into my waiting mouth.

With the fourth, I really didn't think I wanted anyone else to make me come. It didn't hurt and wasn't sore. It was just enough. I got on my knees over him so I could raise myself up off his mouth if I wanted. Then I took his cock, the thick one, and began to work on it. I really was getting to enjoy this even though my reaction to it initially had been at least mixed. Sort of okay but ...

I could hear him grunting and enjoying what I was doing to him. Though it stretched out my lips to their fullest, I'd found that I even enjoyed this if I just relaxed into it. Besides enjoying myself at this, I found that there were more things to recommend this position.

Since my hands were on the insides of his thighs, holding him open for me and preventing the rather unpleasant situation of having the man's thighs tighten around my head to cover my ears, I could do a kind of modified pushup that let me move my mouth around him totally from tip to pubic hair. The upside down position let the swollen knob go into my wide open throat slightly if I wanted it to and I found that rather interesting and very exciting to him.

Because I was lifted above his stomach, his hands found my breasts and crushed them in sexually excited grasps that, though occasionally a little over exuberant, were very nice. With his hand spread, my nipples fit between fingers near the knuckle where they were manipulated in numerous ways from three directions at once. When he held them between the tightened fingers and bent his fingers, it stimulated the flesh of my tits at the same time it pulled my nipples. I liked that.

And if I'd thought I was removing my clit from his reach, I was very wrong. It must have looked like a cow's teat hanging down above his mouth because he kept bending his neck far forward to put his lips around it and then to pull downward on it with the suction of his mouth around it. That was different and wonderfully exciting. In spite of my resolve to "sit this one out," I realized that it wasn't going to take much of this before I was going to orgasm and perhaps even before he did. From my male perspective, I wondered how he could stand me humming with pleasure around his thick cock.

Then I felt someone else -- it had to be someone else because his hands were still on my breasts -- put their hands on my ass cheeks and spread them wide with their thumbs. That opened my almost untried anus to the open air and the exciting new feel of the air moving across it. My back arched at the feeling so my breasts and his hands pressed into his stomach, though I wouldn't give up his cock and wouldn't lower my pussy further than it was.

That's when I felt something at my anus and couldn't identify it at all. I was still curious enough that I actually released his cock from my jaws and looked over my shoulder. I couldn't believe what I saw.

The fifth man, the one I hadn't worked on yet, was behind me and was licking my anus and probing at it with his tongue. His eyes smiled as they met mine and pulled outward with both fingers to open my asshole.

It was such a new feeling and the man's lips below me were so firmly placed around my clit, I had a new orgasm in that first second, my head rocking back onto my shoulders and my mouth open in the long gasping groan.

That must have been enough to relax my anus because the next thing I felt was the softness of his long tongue as it slithered past the sphincter muscle. I was still coming as I dropped my head back between the other man's legs and found his huge cock. I sucked it as far down and as hard as I could as my entire attention centered on the ring between my asscheeks.

His tongue was as hard as a finger as it pistoned in and out of my ass impossibly far and touched every nerve available there.

That's when the guy below me started humming his orgasm around my clit and shot powerfully into my mouth. I was only glad it hadn't been in my throat, as it had been less than a second before, because it surely would have drowned me.

Instead I increased my suction but held off a little as he shot gobs of creamy come into my mouth, swallowing as fast as I could to keep up with him. When I felt him shiver and start to relax, I sucked harder until the softening flesh was back in my throat. He had one more small shot to give me.

I thought this time I'd gotten it all. My lips were wet but I don't think I'd let even a drop roll down his length. And with this preparation, I could swallow that last bunch easily without gagging or worrying about drowning on it.

My enjoyment was complete as I felt their continuing efforts on my nipples, clit, and asshole.

Though his was finished, as evinced by his softening cock in my mouth still, mine continued and both of them continued in ministering to it. When it went numb, when everything went numb, I was still poised on my knees with my ass in the air and both of them still doing what they had been doing to me.

Finally, they felt it, too, and stopped, mumbling something in Arabic softly. I didn't know what it was but I didn't care.

It was easy for them to roll me to one side, onto my side, switch places, and lift me back into the same position.

It took me a minute to regain any sort of similar excitement level, but the very narrow long cock I sucked far down my throat, was a big help. The second tongue -- bigger, softer, and more insistent -- was shorter in my ass and felt loving and sweet instead of as insistent, hard and long as the one that found my pussy now. I marveled that a man's tongue could be almost the same length as his cock when his cock was like this one.

Before both of us came down from our mutual climaxes, I again lost the sense of time and place. Perhaps he did, too. I woke up to near silence sometime later, laying on my side with my head on the inside of his thigh. He woke me as he snored rather loudly, his head on my thigh and breathing directly on my pussy.

I tried to be gentle and succeeded in laying his head on the rug instead of letting it crash down onto the carpeted floor before I got up and went to the bathroom again. There was light through the window in the bathroom.

Chapter 7

WHEN I FINISHED, I went back to the place on the floor, feeling the chill of the room a little. But instead of returning to the earlier position, I curled up in front of him with his legs behind mine and his chest against my back. He was totally asleep and compliant so I moved his arm so I could put it under my neck for support.

He roused in his sleep enough to put his other arm around me and hug me almost imperceptibly. I fell back to sleep immediately.

I don't know how much later I woke but it had been several hours because I felt reasonably rested. On the edge of sleep, I felt the tingle of my pussy and my nipples but it didn't approach soreness. Just pleasant sensitivity.

The man had left me laying on the floor and I had a few sore spots from that, my hip and my shoulder most notable. I rolled onto my stomach and looked around.

Again, shafts of light were jetting in the cracks in the shutters and it felt hotter than before. Soon I felt the pressure of my bladder and went to the bathroom. I didn't look around the apartment before getting in the shower and washing everything but my hair. I kept it mostly dry by moving it from behind my back, to wash the front, to the front, while I washed my back as well as I could.

There was a toothbrush in a holder at the sink and a tube of toothpaste, according to its smell, in a box near the sink. That helped a lot as well. I almost felt human.

Remembering my clothes in the bedroom, I went in there and found it just as I'd seen it last. I put on panties, bra, a blouse, the short grey skirt, and my most comfortable shoes. Then I packed my stuff back in the sacks I'd gotten them in and went toward the front door.

The way out, as the way in, was simple and I was starting down the second set of narrow stairs when I heard voices in Arabic. I thought I recognized the guy's voice and another of the group from the night before. I intended to thank them for the great time -- and it had been -- on my way by them to the alleyway I knew was only a flight of stairs below.

I guess that shows my naivety. It was the guy and his face turned pale when he looked up the three or four steps at me and my bags. First he turned to the other man, one of the ones with the moderate sized dicks, and said something with much arm movement. It sounded mad.

The guy grabbed my arm roughly and turned me back up the stairs as the other took my bags and followed us. I was quickly hustled back into the apartment I'd just left and into the living room where I was deposited on the couch none too gently.

The guy yelled into the apartment and disappeared to what I assumed was the second bedroom. A minute later the man with the fat cock and the other with the moderate one stumbled out, looking like they'd just been awakened from a sound sleep. I guessed now that they had been supposed to watch me and to keep me here. I didn't like this development much at all.

The guy gestured and lectured the two men for some time without comment from either of them. The one who had been carrying my bags took that opportunity to go into the bedroom.

The guy said something into the bedroom and then came to me. He gestured and flicked at my clothes until I got the message that I wasn't supposed to be wearing them and that, since I was, I was to go to the bedroom and take them off.

I didn't relish the idea of being forced, particularly while he was mad, so went to the bedroom.

The other man was there still and, when I appeared, held up a piece of red material that looked like virtually nothing connected by some strings. He leaned against a chest and watched as I took my clothes back off and picked up the piece of red material. There were two and now I could see that it was a bikini of sorts though I couldn't remember having ever seen one this small.

The bottom, distinguished because it was only a single piece of cloth, was literally an inch wide and about three long. When I stepped into it, it just about covered my labia, the elasticized strings going between my legs and up my hips. I didn't think it would stay in place long enough to walk to the other room and told the man that. Of course, he didn't understand.

The top was just as literally two one inch triangles and the strings to go over my shoulders and around my back. The man moved himself to help me tie it behind my back and to make a try at getting the strings to do anything at all. The thing didn't even want to hold my nipples let alone anything else.

Everyone was back in the living room when we arrived. The guy was lecturing to his buddies still and was obviously not happy. He only paused to look at me, his eyes sliding down my body across the minuscule pieces of material.

My sleeping partner with the long cock, came to me immediately, inspecting appreciatively with his fingers tracing across my naked ass cheeks and along the thread that held up the bottom, along the strings to the tiny piece of material between my legs and across my stomach. Then he inspected the strings and what the top pieces didn't cover.

Everyone's mouth was open but the guy's and he spoke softly then. Though it was Arabic, I would have bet he said, "Look what you almost let get away."

He sent one of the guys off to the kitchen for something and we all stood around admiring my body as we waited for him to return. He returned with a plate full of ice cubes and I wondered what exactly was going on now. I didn't have to wait long.

The guy said something and two of the guys took my wrists. Very deliberately, the guy took an icecube off the plate, came to me and slid it behind the tiny panel of cloth over my right nipple. I cringed away from its freezing cold on my nipple but he left it there, humping up the triangle of material weirdly and, more important to me, painfully cold.

He got the second ice cube and slid it into the triangle over my left nipple. That was worse and I said so in no uncertain terms. He got the third ice cube and carefully placed it under the strip of cloth covering my pussy and in the trench of my labia. I might have thought I was glad it was half an inch below my clit but that's not at all what I was thinking as I curled up my legs around it and tried hard to dislodge it without the use of my hands.

It was a terrible combination of hot, cold, pain, pleasure (though minimal), and desperation to get them all out of there.

Apparently, he instructed one of the guys to let go of my wrist and, of course, I immediately grabbed for my crotch to get that ice cube out of there. The guy intercepted my hand at the last second, as fast as an adder, and slapped my hand soundly, holding my hand up, shaking his head, and saying no like I was a baby he was disciplining. When he let go, I started to do it again but hesitated because he was immediately ready to repeat his actions. I clenched my teeth and my fist but didn't try for it again.

"Imshy?" he said the Arabic for walk and made a walking motion with two fingers. Then he said something else I didn't understand but he pointed to the ice cubes one after the other as I squirmed and switched standing on one foot and the other. "Henna wa henna wa henna." Here and here and here.

"Imshy?" he said again and pulled off his belt. "Henna wa henna wa henna," indicating the same three spots. I understood. Leave and the next time would be worse. So I got the message! I just wanted the ice cubes out now.

Instead he motioned and spoke to the two guys and they took my wrists again and led me to the slatted shutter doors, one of them opening it onto a narrow dirty balcony. But the sun was very hot. I saw what he'd given me. At least the ice would melt quickly in this sun.

I still paced and squirmed from side to side as the guys held my wrists and the ice slowly numbed the parts of my skin they touched. Drips of cold water ran down the insides of my thighs and down my breasts and stomach as I shifted around, willing them to melt quickly.

They were almost gone by the time I noticed I had quite an audience. At least six guys of varying ages from 50 to about 12 stood on balconies across the street from us watching and three young girls, probably mid teens, stood directly across watching and chattering at each other.

One of the guys surreptitiously holding my wrist behind my back slightly now, asked through motions and Arabic if I wanted him to touch my breast. I couldn't have possibly wanted anything more and didn't care if anyone was watching or not. I practically thrust it into his hand and he accommodated me by cupping it solidly.

"Oh yes, please please. Yes. Mmm oh yes." It felt so nice and warm. He wasn't likely to be dislodged as I turned slightly to the other man and offered my other aching breast, begging him to touch it and to warm it with his palm. Of course, he did immediately and seemingly telling everyone exactly what he was doing. I heard "Americani" a couple of times and several of the watching people seemed to agree.

"My pussy," I moaned. "Do my pussy. Please do my pussy too." Instead they guided my hands around to my front and let me do it. I didn't think about it that moment but it must have been the most lewd looking exhibition ever as I rubbed the wet, now melted spot between my labia roughly and with such obvious pleasure.

If they needed witnesses as to my willingness, they certainly had them then.

Actually, it felt so unrestrainedly wonderful, I even drove myself to an orgasm on my fingers as they raced between my legs. I even let them, almost insisted for them, to do it too as all those people watched and, in one way or another, cheered them on.

They had to help me back into the apartment. All three parts of the bikini were sopping wet and the bottom was sticky to boot. Drops of water from the melted ice had streaked down my stomach and legs to be joined by a considerable amount of sweat induced by the hot sun on the balcony.

The guy said something in Arabic and one of my escorts disappeared as the other sat me down on one of the dining room chairs. I laid my head down on the table in front of me to rest but I hadn't gotten much of that done when the one came back with a tub of water.

My friend with the long cock held my shoulders back against the back of the chair as the other gently and sweetly washed me with a wetted washrag. It was cool and felt very good. I let my buddy hold me forward and undo the tentative strings of the bikini while the other one washed my back with the wet rag.

They sat me back in the chair, took the dangling bikini parts off, and washed the places they'd missed the first time. I thought the guy was a little more than adequate at washing my breasts and between my legs but, for some reason, it didn't get me terribly turned on. Maybe it was the cool temperature of it. It just felt good and cool, the slight breeze drifting across my still wet body.

When he was done and had gone all the way to my feet again, wetting me down, he picked up the water and took it away. I was revived now and could even help getting up and walking into the living room.

Obviously following instructions, my friend, smiling, led me to the living room where a glass topped coffee table had been placed right in the middle of the room. He led me to it and indicated I should sit down. There was already a pillow on the other end of the table so I knew I was to lay down on it.

I cringed at the cold glass against my bottom and then my back when I laid down, but I was still hot enough that it felt pretty good. The table was short enough that I could put my feet flat on the floor with my knees bent normally. I kept my legs together amongst the five guys -- the sixth running in almost immediately and sitting down on the floor half way across the room. Obviously, I was the entertainment as I had been since I'd been here. My buddy moved my legs until I was again laying in front of these six guys with my legs spread wide. At least no one was holding me down (or up) and, at least for the moment, no one was touching me.

It was pretty disconcerting to be here this way with all of them staring at me as they talked with varying degrees of animation and only occasional movements of any of their heads away from me.

I held onto the sides of the table at my sides and just waited. The initial shock of the cold glass had lessened now as my ass and shoulders warmed it where they touched. Glass is far too hard to be comfortable but it really wasn't terribly uncomfortable.

That was when one of the guys leaned forward and pulled his tee-shirt over his head to display his almost hairless chest. He kicked off his sandals before standing up and stripping down his pants. He sat back down naked and put his hand around an already hard cock as he returned his attention to me.

The others had been talking all the while he was stripping down and he'd been responding. Two others had stripped off their shirts and, as I watched, now pulled off their pants and underwear. The guy was the last of them to do it but started at the same time as my friend and finished before he did.

Now I was laying naked on a coffee table with my legs spread and my nipples hardened to painfulness in front of six naked men with their puds in their hands.

The guy was talking to me, though I couldn't understand him, and indicated that I should touch my nipples as he was. Knowing the potential penalties for not doing what he wanted, I moved my hands to my breasts and started doing as he said. It didn't do much for me but it seemed to do a lot for the guys who were staring at me almost bugeyed and slowly rubbing their cocks or balls or nipples.

I thought there was something essentially very strange about six guys playing with themselves and getting me hot watching when I was supposed to be the main attraction. Purposely, I reached up and fanned my hair on the pillow and began to play with my hard nipples and licked my lips and otherwise actively trying to get them excited with me. It was very satisfying that they were responding appropriately.

This perspective was excellent. I could easily see that my friend was the longest of the group, though narrow, and the guy was nearly as long but much bigger around. The other large one was bigger around than he was but shorter. The other guys ranged from the one who'd started the strip, who was the smallest, barely peeking out of his fist, upward. There were all varieties. Now I could only wonder what was supposed to happen next but I thought that maybe, finally, they'd decided it was time to fuck me. Strangely, I was ready now.

When I looked back to the guy, he was gesturing for me to do something between my legs and it didn't take much for me to take his suggestion. One hand went between my labia with two fingers, holding me open for them to see, as I ran the fingers down the outside of my clit. Of course, it was hard now too.

I really didn't have to wait for him to suggest with his movements that I put my fingers into my pussy. It just felt right and I did it, dragging my lubricating fluids back up the trench across my clit again and again.

The guys were getting into it with me, starting to pump up and down on their cocks but, at a word from the guy, they stopped and just held them while they watched me. I was pretty sure it was going to be time for a fuck real soon. I just wondered who'd be first. Now I really wanted it, knowing that it was going to happen anyway.

The eager one who'd taken his pants off first said something to the guy and then dropped to his knees between my legs as I continued to frig myself. I thought it was really weird when he started eating my pussy again as I felt, rather than saw, him pumping on his cock. What was wrong with this guy?

"Fuck me, god damn it," I heard myself saying. "What the fuck's wrong with you guys? Don't you know what to do with a pussy?"

His mouth still on my pussy, I felt it when he came in his fingers and then when he rolled over on his side on the floor out of my sight.

I'm sure then I made the most lewd movements possible as I lifted my legs a little and fucked myself with my finger.

"Come on, you guys. Put something right in here."

The guy gestured to one of the guys on the couch, the smallest of the bunch, and he crawled off the couch and between my legs. At that stage, I had no idea what a big cock felt like but when he plunged his little one into me, it felt great. I lifted my legs and watched him looking down between us at where his cock entered me. It took exactly three strokes before his eyes rolled up in his head and I felt him come inside me.

I was so disappointed, I hit him from both sides with balled fists.

"Asshole! Was this your first time, stupid?" When I thought about it, I realized my error. Yeah. It probably was his first time. He moaned, unaffected by my attack, and rolled to the side away from me. Finished.

It didn't take a second before the next guy was there on his knees between my legs and trying to figure out how to put it in. As soon as he found the opening, I motioned to him and pulled him close to me. I wanted to make this one last a little longer.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and held him still for a minute even though his center really wanted to pump into me. I knew that it was going to happen very fast if I let it. So I held on. When he'd calmed down some, I lifted his face to look into it.

"Nice and slow and easy," I said and heard the guy say some things. Maybe a translation. Jerkily, he moved out of me and then slowly back in. It felt good and I didn't want the pace to change until I was ready for it. He was breathing twice as fast as I was as I enforced his slow pace.

"Yes. That's it. Nice." My heels pulled him in when I wanted him in. My arms and body showed him when it was time to retreat. He followed instructions. That was good.

Slowly, I increased his pace until I felt myself equaling his level of arousal. Growling to myself, I plunged my long fingernails into his back and, even as he reacted to that, he shot into me. And then amazingly, he froze in place, nothing moving but a tiny vibration in his muscles. I thought he would pound out his climax and it would take me the other tiny step over to mine.

This didn't. I could have cried.

And it didn't change before he moved away from me, softening quickly.

No wonder these assholes had to kidnap a woman, I thought.

The third one, the last of the small ones, crawled to me and slid into my pussy in a motion. It was sort of exciting the way he grabbed my calves and held me wide open as he fucked me. But I couldn't reach him to pace him and I didn't catch his pace before he was shooting inside me. More than three strokes but much less than satisfaction for me.

Disgustedly, I wondered if this was going to be the rule.

I watched the man with the fat cock come to me and wondered if the men's magazines were right about big around feeling best and long better than short. He dropped to his knees at the end of the coffee table and acted like he was embarrassed as he guided his huge head to my opening. When it wouldn't slip right in, he rubbed it up and down several times to get some of my lubrication on it to help. Then he tried again.

This time, I watched his face as he pressed forward. My internal excitement rose with every little bit more he opened me. I could feel it increasing in pressure, if not pleasure. I think I may have been too worried about its size to really enjoy its entry.

When I started to slide up the now wet surface of the glass top, he grabbed my hips and pulled me back toward him. If there was any real look in the man's eyes, it was fear. I was sure he was as much a virgin as I had been a while before in this body. Now I cursed my tight pussy as he looked pained and eased up. I purposely relaxed the muscles there as much as possible and felt the head slip quickly into me. I gasped at the feeling and caught his wrists.

I guess he thought I was doing something else and let me move his hands from my hips. I squirmed to get more of him, to return his hands to my hips, something and, instead of getting more of that fat cock, I must have excited him past his control.

Still only about an inch into me, he was suddenly gasping and vibrating as he shot his seed into me. I could have screamed with frustration and may even have done it but it only excited him more and he cried out as he finished with a thrust that might have gotten him a whole two inches inside me before he bent forward and pushed his face into my neck. At least he and I knew that it hadn't really worked because he apologized in Arabic -- a word I knew -- before quickly pulling out and going back to his seat on the floor.

His buddies were all congratulating him, unaware that he'd done nothing more than dump himself in my body, as he tried to look macho.

At least now it was my friend's turn and with that long skinny cock of his I was at least sure he could get it in. Maybe he couldn't get it all in but I was at least sure I'd be able to feel it inside me. And maybe he'd even care whether I got off or not.

As he dropped to his knees between my legs, he at least made a good start. I think I was really mumbling, "Be good, be good, be good," under my breath as he aimed the head at my hole and smiled into my eyes. He fumbled a little, maybe because of the look of desire I must have given him, but he found what he was looking for and I felt it pass further into me than the guy before had done altogether.

He noticed the fact that the sweat on my back had made me slide on the tabletop right away. But rather than messing around, he used it to both our advantages as he slid me further toward the edge. Incongruously, I thought he was the only one of the group who might have been able to reach me no matter where I was on the tabletop.

He moved forward more and, though I wasn't quite wet enough to lubricate that length, pushed into me more. He'd already touched places that no one else in the world had and I loved it.

I lifted my feet onto his hips and spread my knees to encourage him into me further. I didn't want to make the same mistake I had with the other guy, grabbing his wrists and losing his leverage on my hips so I moved my hands to my nipples instead.

"Yes. That's it," I whispered to him like we were the only two people in the world. "That's it. I want it all in me. Yes."

He had to move back a little before pressing in again. My skin had formed a dry sheath around him that seemed to pull its way into me to prevent his progress. A couple of times of dragging some of that length out and then pushing forward again was perfect though, spreading my internal lubrication over my lips and transfering to him when it pulled tighter around him again.

He said, "Impossible," when we both felt him run into my cervix and almost all of it was inside me. Maybe there was two inches left. Or one. I couldn't really see for sure. He backed up again and pressed forward, hitting bottom with a grimace.

"Now. Fuck me," I moaned just for him, my eyes glimmering for him, I'm sure. I knew I was doing everything I could with the muscles of my pussy around him to encourage him. I used my feet on his hips to push him very gently back until he got the idea and moved with me until he was more than half way out. Then I urged him back in until he made even more solid contact with my insides.

Looking at something marginally similar to this from the other side, I could imagine the look on my face, in my eyes, as I begged him to make it good, my tongue between my teeth and my eyes half closed.

The muscles in my legs reacting to the feelings inside me now, they vibrated as I urged him back for another long stroke. This time he took the initiative, as I'd hoped he would, and pulled back until he nearly fell out and I feared for that. Then he came back into me in a long, slow stroke that pressed against my deepest parts hard enough that it made me roll my hips up.

Right away, he moved back faster, increasing his speed and both our excitement. We both had to open our mouths to catch a breath, our eyes locked together. He didn't pause at his furthest extent but came back in immediately. Both of us grunted when he hit bottom again but this time I thought I felt his pubic hair against my pussy lips when he did it.

I knew from the way he looked that he wasn't going to last very long at this and worried that it would all be over too quickly for me. I thought of myself as a virgin still until I'd actually had an orgasm with a guy.

Now he stroked into me faster, raising our level a notch and making me slip on the glass top some more. He pulled me back onto him, using the wetness, faster and faster. Warned by the other four, I worried now that I could have an orgasm before he was finished. And my fears seemed to be realized as he grimaced and I felt him fire his come against the drumhead of my cervix. I dispaired with a moan because my orgasm wasn't close enough to reach.

But again he surprised me. He never even slowed down but continued stroking into me faster and faster, sliding me back and forth in the pool of my sweat on the top. Knowing he wasn't going to leave me so close, I found it building again and smiled at him through my opened mouth, seeking enough air to continue survival.

"Yes, yes," I cried. "Fuck me. Make me come, too. Oh God yes!" Then the orgasm that had been threatening and falling away in frustration crashed through me and my legs wrapped around his waist with it and pulled him as far into me as possible.

And he wasn't all that soft either. The release felt wonderful.

A while later, he was still inside me though still now. He leaned down with a huge smile and kissed my lips sweetly before pulling himself slowly out of my body.

I hoped that the others had seen what you could get if you were nice enough to wait and, if you couldn't wait, at least help anyway.

Chapter 8

THOUGH MY FRIEND had bragging rights, the guy spoke to the others for quite a while after my friend went back to his seat. I couldn't understand him so I had no way of knowing what he was saying. Therefore, I didn't listen until he finally got out of his chair and then didn't really react.

What I really think I felt first was when he started using his cock like a finger in the trench of my clit, rubbing it up and down it and coating it with a combination of my fluids and the combined guys'.

It felt very good and, when I looked at him, he was thoroughly enjoying himself with his play. I knew from being a guy that doing this felt very good to him, too. It certainly felt good to me. He'd only done it for a few minutes before my body was crying out for more, vibrating all over with the direct stimulation of my clit with his soft, textured cock. There was no doubt he had my complete attention. If I'd been able to look at myself from across the room, I'd have seen my feet on tiptoe, my hands clutching at the edges of the coffee table, and my back arched to lift my hardened nipples toward him as I sucked hard on my lower lip to try to keep my equilibrium.

Looking down between us, he carefully placed the head of his big cock at my opening and I sensed that this was probably going to be the best fuck I would get today. It wasn't but I didn't have any way to predict the future beyond what I thought I could see from the moment.

I was so wet the head of his cock slipped very easily through my opening. It was big enough that I could feel it easily, unlike a couple of the guys, because it opened me further than was really comfortable. He stopped there with his hands going to my hips.

"How?" he asked with a self-satisfied smile that I thought was a little cocky. I didn't understand his question though and shook my head slightly. "How?" he repeated then reached the fingers of his right hand to my nipple. "Shwya?" Small. He rolled the nipple gently. "Hadeed?" Strong. He pinched it and pulled slightly, taking my breath away for a second. My choice. Gentle or rough? His hand moved away from my nipple, awaiting my choice. What was it to be?

My natural reserve told me to say shwya. Something else told me to say hadeed. But this suspense was driving me crazy, waiting for him to do something. Anything.

"Just ... just ... fuck me. Come on," I said, lifting my pussy up toward him and taking a little more of him inside me. I started humping him, doing myself, and finding little comfort from it.

"Shwya? Hadeed?" he asked again without the demonstration. He knew I understood. I was groaning and rolling with my need now. "Shwya? Hadeed?" he said again, stronger and moved his hands to my breasts.

"Hadeed! Hadeed! Now! Just fuck me, goddamn it!" And he plunged his big cock into me in one smooth shot that ended with a solid bang against my cervix and lifted my feet off the floor and into the air at his hip level.

He was still upright on his knees, just able to reach my breasts with his hands. Well enough to crush them both as he closed them roughly over the soft flesh. My heels had pulled up to his sides, my knees on the outsides of his arms as he paused for a second.

Then he pulled out until I feared that he was going to fall out altogether. My chin came forward and my hands stretched out as if to clutch his body and pull him back into me. But I needn't have worried because he squeezed my breasts again until it was very near pain and pushed himself back into me completely, our pelvic bones crashing into each other and moving me away from him on the slippery surface of the glass.

As if he'd bounced, he went straight back out of me the full extent. Somehow, he changed the position of his hands so his fingers and palm still crushed them in their grip but his thumbs and forefingers found my nipples and pinched hard.

"Ahmed, henna," he said and I watched one of the smaller guys crawl over beside the table quickly. He said something else, never pausing in his pumping and clasping at me. The man smiled, nodded and reached up between us and found my clit with two fingers and thumb. The guy said something else and the man pinched my clit. He said something else and I noticed that his neck muscles were clenched tightly as he continued pumping roughly in and out of me.

Now the man pinched hard each time the guy plunged deep into me and loosened his grip but pulling upward a little in between. Each stroke drove me higher and higher.

My first orgasm came with the first of these combined attacks. The next came with the second and lasted through the third and fourth. It was hard to tell where one let off then and the next began, each getting more intense and wild.

Then I felt the hot blast of come deep inside me even though the pumping into me continued. I think I was screaming through my orgasms, gurgling from deep within my chest. Hearing the wet smack of his pubic mound against mine as he scooted me up the table and drug me back by the nipples.

That was even a little too intense and, out of self preservation, I returned my hands to the edge of the table to hold myself in place so he wouldn't pull so hard. Nothing changed except I didn't slide on the tabletop as much.

Then he was getting soft inside me, his movement slowed, and his hold on my nipples eased. The other man let go of my clit for the first time and, when I turned my head to look bleery eyed at him, he licked his wet fingers.

The guy pulled away and fell soft against his leg to mixed cheers of appreciation. I might have cheered as well if I'd had the energy.

They let me sleep there on the table and I woke later, my shoulders and bottom sore from the glass top. It was dark outside and quiet in the apartment.

Like before, I crawled off the table top and into the bathroom to empty my painfully full bladder. As much come cascaded out of me -- what hadn't already rolled down the insides of my legs on the way to the bathroom -- as urine from my bladder. I cleaned up as well as I could without toilet paper, and went exploring.

No one in the living room or dining room. The balcony doors were closed tightly. The kitchen was empty so I had a couple of glasses of water from the tap. Then I looked in the big bedroom and found four of the guys sound asleep -- two in the bed and two on the floor. The other two were in the other bedroom. I was chilled, so I put on a dress I found on a dresser and went out onto the balcony.

Obviously the middle of the night, the street was quiet and empty. I could hear cars in the distance to the right. I probably stayed out there in the relatively cool fresh air for half an hour marveling at the feeling of the errant breezes that seemed to play between my naked legs. It was soothing and pleasant.

No more physical needs, I went back into the apartment, leaving the balcony doors open, and lay down on the couch.

I woke up to a gentle rocking, a hand on my arm. I opened my eyes to look into my friend's smiling eyes. Over his shoulder, I saw the guy with the same sort of smile on his face. He said "good" in Arabic and walked away, letting my friend help me to my feet. He let me go to the bathroom alone.

There was a huge piece of white paper covered with fool sandwiches, a staple of Egypt made of beans and spices and put into a pita style bread, the local bread. Someone motioned toward the sandwiches and, my stomach growling, I grabbed one and practically stuffed it into my mouth. Someone gave up their chair for me and I stuffed in three more sandwiches before I thought I might survive. The fifth one was a little harder to eat than the earlier ones but I finished it anyway and washed it down with a cup of tea someone had brought for me.

Afterwards, they indicated that I should take a shower since they'd come to recognize my needs a little and I took advantage of the offer. It felt wonderful to be clean and, when I got out of the shower, there was a pair of white shorts and a tank top on the edge of the sink waiting for me. I put them on.

Not something I'd bought, the tank top was much too risque for Egypt since it was low cut, sleeveless, and much too thin to hide my swollen nipples when the cool air of the apartment hit them. It also left my lower stomach and bellybutton free to view.

The shorts were very short, actually rising onto my hips at the sides and the top barely holding on. No one could wear them who hadn't had the pubic hair shaved as I had.

At least they were clothes and, after the time I'd spent in this apartment naked, they were welcome.

When I went into the other room, the shorts and tank top were roundly appreciated. I thought it was a little strange that the clothes would attract more attention from my six friends than nothing at all had. Well, maybe not more attention since nobody threw me down and fucked me the instant they saw me. But each of them did have to check out my breasts through the material, my bellybutton, and the fit of the shorts over my bottom and between my legs.

One of the guys brought me a pair of white sandals with low heels that I put on as they all clustered around watching. I didn't know what their anticipation was for but I certainly could feel it.

When I was done, they led me out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into the dark alleyway where this had all started. I was a little surprised that I'd been so close to the street when they'd shunted me off to the apartment. It was literally only twenty feet away though it wasn't much when we got there.

We went to a tiny car and all piled in. The guys were arm over arm tight together before they got me into the back seat on one of their laps. To say it was tight with seven of us was a wild understatement.

I didn't care if I was crushed up against one or another of them on the turns through the narrow streets so I wasn't particularly uncomfortable. I thought the rest of them probably were.

We parked and got out with one of the small guys leading the way through a narrow street to a building. He led the way up three floors and opened the door to an apartment. A fat black clad woman with splayed toes and a withered face met us and led the way into the apartment. I could only smile at her since, as far as I could tell, she didn't understand any English.

She made tea and the small guy introduced us to a fat man in a galabaya who grunted and stayed sitting in the living room while we drank the tea. Two young boys came out of a back room and talked to the men for a while and ogled me. Then we left and got back into the car.

That visit seemed to define the next four. The only differences were the floor on which the apartment was (from the ground floor housing of a boab's family to the tenth floor for my friend's parents and five sisters) and the numbers of people (a mother and father one place to seven or eight small children, mother and father, and other assorted friends or relatives at one).

Then we got to the guy's family apartment and things changed rather radically.

First the mother was well dressed in western styled clothes and retained a nice shape. She spoke French, the mark of a well educated Egyptian woman. But, of course, I couldn't talk to her any more than I could to the Arabic speakers. His father was apparently a businessman and wore a white shirt and tie. He seemed to be on the way to his job, wherever and whatever that might be.

As with all the other places, the people's eyes stayed on me even though they didn't try to say anything to me. Both men's and women's eyes roved up and down my body, taking in every inch.

Up to that point, it seemed just like the other places. Then the guy went down a hallway and came back with a petite girl in tow. She was dressed in a long western style skirt, white blouse with an obvious bra under it, and a purple scarf over her hair. She was very cute in her 13 or 14-year-old heavy breasted body. Her face was almost angelic. She blushed as he led her to me.

"Hello. My name is Nadia," she said in almost unaccented English.

"Hello," I said, surprised. "You speak English."

"Some. From school but I don't have much chance to practice."

"You speak very well," I told her. She blushed. Pleased.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" I asked. She looked at the guy.

"Mohamed said you were a friend and that they were introducing you to their families. Is that untrue?"

"No. I guess not. Mohamed, huh? That's the first name I've caught."

"They did not tell you their names?" she said, incredulous.

"No."

"Well then. Mohamed," she indicated the guy. "My brother. Ahmed," she indicated the small guy who'd played with my clit the night before. That was the only one I knew. "Mahmoud," my friend. "Sharif," another of the small guys. "Amgad," the other small guy. "And Assem," the fat one.

"Nice to meet you all," I said, tongue-in-cheek. She interpreted and they all laughed and nodded. "Tell them I'm Amy," I said and she did.

She talked to Mohamed and the others for a few minutes in Arabic, her parents adding comments and the guys all adding something.

"They say that you were lost in ..." she said an Arabic name.

"Is that the alley with the shops?" She nodded. "I guess you could say that."

"They say you needed a place to stay and they let you stay at Mohamed's apartment." I shrugged. Now maybe this was the time to say something and get out of this but I still wasn't sure of my status. I did know that if I pissed Mohamed off and he got me alone again, I'd pay for doing anything wrong. I surely didn't want that. Immediately, I had reason to be glad I hadn't.

Mohamed's mother said something and Nadia turned to me.

"Mohamed told my parents that you have a very beautiful body and that you like to show it off to them. Is that true?" I shrugged. "They said you had ... How to you say it? That you had done things with some of the merchants to get clothing and shoes." I nodded. That was true. "They say that you went with them to Mohamed's flat and took your clothing off for them."

"Yes. I guess." I thought about saying that I didn't have much choice but I didn't.

"You let them watch while you took a bath."

"Actually, they gave me a bath. They washed me." She blushed and nodded. The guys said several other things in Arabic which gained comments from mother and father.

"They say you wanted to make love to them all," she said. There was certainly a fine line here. If this whole thing went to a court of law, I think I'd have a difficult time proving that they had kidnapped me and raped me in multiple ways and multiple times. Six to one would be difficult odds at any rate. Proving anything in an Egyptian court against Egyptians would be more difficult even if it ever came to trial in the first place. Then, if any quotes of mine were brought out, I'd have a difficult time denying them. Like when Mohamed had fucked me the night before. I'd really wanted it then and had truly begged him to do it just as he had.

Add all that to the testimony of the guys in the alley who'd gotten one thing or another for pieces of clothing or shoes and the people across the street who'd seen me the morning they'd put the ice cubes in the bikini, and it would be all over but the shouting.

So what could I gain from saying anything here. Nothing.

"Okay," I said by way of answer. She nodded as if I'd confirmed what they were saying and, I guess, I had. She spoke to everyone for a minute and there was another exchange.

"They don't understand English. Only a little. So I can really talk to you. I want to tell you that two years ago my brother and his friends had me take off my clothing for them. Really they made me do it for them but it was all right. I rather enjoyed it after the first. So I know that you maybe didn't really want this."

"I'm glad you understand," I said.

"But, like I said, it is rather enjoyable after the first, is it not?" We both blushed.

"Did they make love to you, too?"

"Yes. Anyway, they tried. Mostly they didn't do very well. But I've shown Mohamed a little more of how to please a woman since then."

"Yes. Well. It seems he's gotten the idea. Mahmoud isn't bad either."

"The others?"

"Not much but they'd like to please if they could figure it out, I think. They haven't quite figured out that a woman really doesn't want to be forced to do those things. And they haven't figured out that when they're done, the woman might not be. If you know what I mean."

"Yes. I know," she said.

She stopped talking to me as her father spoke. Then all the others said something, too. The father leaned toward his wife and touched her arm gently. She said something and shrugged.

"My father asks that you take off your shirt so he might see you as his son has," Nadia said with a blush.

"Should I?" I asked.

"It is up to you, of course. There is no reason why you should not though." I couldn't figure that out. Then I thought of what Mohamed might do if he was pissed at me and decided.

I reached for the hem of the shirt and peeled it up and over my head, baring my breasts. When I looked at the heavy man, he motioned toward me. I got up and crossed the room to stand close to him.

He didn't hesitate, though his wife looked on from nearby, to put his hand over my breast and softly massage it. It was an inspection as if to see if it were good enough for his son. Purely mechanical and didn't really turn me on. Of course, my nipples were hard from the cool air and the situation but not really from sexual excitement.

He nodded and grunted after a minute, sat back, said something, and motioned toward my shorts.

"He wants -- " Nadia began.

"Yeah. I caught it." I undid the shorts and pushed them down to my knees. I looked at mom while his fingers went to my shaven pussy lips. She was staring at the spot his fingers touched, a smile playing around her lips. I wondered what kind of family this was.

His fingers edged down my dry lips until they found my pussy and forced their way into me a ways, playing and bending inside me a little. This still wasn't really a turn on for me and I really wasn't responding to it. The woman said something and her daughter interpreted.

"She says this was much the way my father explored the possibility of marrying her twenty years ago. She says he did the same thing, lifting her skirt and pulling her panties down, in front of her parents."

"A little test run, I guess. Do I pass?" She spoke for a minute and the man finished with what he was doing and pulled his fingers free.

"He says that is enough. You may put your clothing in order."

"Wow. Thanks." I leaned down and kissed the old man on the forehead. "Fuck you, you old pervert," I said sweetly.

When I turned around, Nadia was blushing and trying to suppress a grin. She interpreted but I didn't think it had been accurate because the old man grinned.

I sat back down and watched as they talked for a time and then we were off again, piling into the little car and careening around the back streets.

Chapter 9

I RECOGNIZED THE restaurant they took me to since it was one of the better ones in town. I was starved and ordered a dozen shrimp, always good, and a small fish. It didn't take long for me to finish it. Of course, during the meal, there was the requisite amount of talk and play. The talk in Arabic and around me. The play almost exclusively WITH me. It seemed like one of their hands was always on a breast or under the tee-shirt or between my legs or on my leg and it seemed that every time the waiter would come by the table, one of the men managed to show that I was available to him.

I didn't particularly enjoy it but, at this point, I didn't particularly object either. There wasn't much I could do about it at any rate.

I was surprised when the food was all consumed and we seemed to be ready to leave. The guys called the waiter over and he started to hand the check to one of them. He shrugged and indicated plainly enough for me to understand that he had no money. It went around the table until it got to me. So much for being taken out to dinner. Apparently, I was treating them and I didn't have a dime and they all knew it. The waiter frowned and insisted, mostly with gestures, that I follow him. I caught on and did it.

He led the way into the kitchen that almost made me sick at the thought of having eaten the food prepared here. There was rotten food tossed in corners of the room, the stainless steel counters hadn't been cleaned for long enough that there were signs of rust of some sort, and dirty dishes seemed to nestle in every open space. Washing dishes for your meal here, something I anticipated, was about the least appetizing thought possible. This definitely wasn't going to be fun.

He led me on through the kitchen to a fat man sitting in one corner with an aged calculator, a pile of receipts, and a grey box that I assumed contained money. The waiter spoke to him and his eyes roved up and down my body. I stood there waiting, acutely aware of the dozen or more pairs of eyes on my back.

"No money?" the fat man said. I shrugged and smiled. I pointed toward the door.

"The men. They pay." He shook his head.

"Men. No money. They say you."

"Oh great!" I moaned. "So what now? Dishes?"

He knew the word and looked at the stacked piles of filth. I suppose it was a temptation but it also wasn't what he wanted.

"So what is it? A blowjob?" I was getting jaded and I'd only been a woman, what? two days? He didn't understand the words apparently but the waiter filled him in, I thought. He shrugged. Apparently that wasn't it.

It wasn't particularly unexpected when he gestured toward my tank top. He looked at the waiter and said something. The waiter smiled as he moved to me to "help." I held up my hands to stop him and lifted the hem of it myself, disgustedly pulling it over my head. The waiter moved to the side so he could stare while the man at the desk did the same.

He motioned at my shorts and I took them off. For the first time, he grinned as he made a motion with his hands of spreading and I knew what he meant, stepping out so my legs were spread. I happened to look over my shoulder and saw how ever many cooks and hangers-on there were in the room standing around me now, openly staring.

The fat man said something and one of the men scrambled away and came back in a moment with a large metal spatula. Again and another left and returned with a zucchini squash, a staple in Egypt, about a foot long and tapering to a broad three or four inches at the center. They handed the two items to the fat man who took one in each hand.

"This or this?" he said as he held each one up.

"That in me?" I said, indicating the squash.

"Or this," he said, swinging the spatula.

"Why not the men?" I protested. "Haven't I paid for my fish?" indicating my nakedness.

"This or this?" he said again. He swung the spatula hard, contacting the surface of the table in front of him with a loud crash that made us all jump.

"Okay. So maybe the squash," I said, holding my hand out. He didn't give it to me but got up. He waved his finger at me and said something in Arabic. A man to each side of me grabbed an arm and the man came very close to me with the squash, lowering it toward my pussy. Then he said something else and someone brought a large can of something that looked like hardened grease. I wrinkled my nose as the man reached into the can and pulled out a large handful of the congealed mass and spread it on the squash the fat man still held.

Now they really needed to hold onto me as he lowered the nasty looking thing to my middle. I'd crossed my legs by then but wasn't too surprised when several of the cooks volunteered to hold my ankles, pulling my legs apart none too gently.

"Oh yuck!" I protested weakly as the fat man pressed it between my legs, finding my opening with the larger end. He pressed inward until it was almost at the thickest part. Then he pushed more and almost lifted me off my feet. He tried again harder and it did lift me off my feet. It just wouldn't go and it hurt.

After the third and fourth trials, he gave up and said something to one of the cooks who quickly appeared with a smaller squash, laved it with grease, and handed it to the fat man who threw the larger one on the dirty floor. Then he proceeded to push the smaller squash between my legs. This one was still uncomfortable but it went in past the knob of its thickest part, half sticking out between my legs.

He said something else and one of the cooks brought a length of string or twine and made a quick, complex knot in one end. This took me completely by surprise when it was slipped around my nipple and pulled very tight. I cringed at this added insult to both my body and my psyche. The cook lifted the string around my neck, cut it with an overlarge knife, and made another knot. Another man lifted both my breasts high and the cook looped the knot around the other nipple. When they let go, they were almost painfully tightly held by the knots and pulled up high.

I don't know which was the biggest surprise then. First someone dropped my tank top over my head and pulled it down. I could look down at where my unnaturally suspended nipples edged at showing above the low cut top. But I was covered somewhat. Then another put a thin plastic garbage bag around my waist and tied it on one hip like some sort of weird skirt. That leg and thigh were completely uncovered but my ass and front were covered decently.

My waiter and another held my arms and started moving me through the kitchen. I didn't know what was going on but I did know that it was exceedingly difficult to walk with that huge squash between my legs and each step seemed to tug at my nipples.

Except for having to move in this uncomfortable circumstance, I really didn't notice much. For one thing, the string didn't pull quite so harshly if I kept my head bent. I did recognize when we moved through the kitchen door and into the main dining room and tried to turn back. They wouldn't let me, instead leading me back to my table.

Mohamed grinned at me from the far corner of the table but the other men showed signs of distress ranging from frowns to Mahmoud's active protest of my treatment. The waiters apparently told them it was their fault as well as mine for not paying the bill.

Then they slowly took me on a tour of the entire dining room, stopping at each table, talking to them, and encouraging the women at the tables to look under the garbage bag at the squash sticking lewdly out of my pussy. Without fail, the women turned pale, dropped the garbage bag, and began talking animatedly to their companions. Many of the men paled as well and more than one seemed to get incensed at the indignity done me.

At the furthest extent of the dining room from the kitchen, a waiter pulled my tank top down below my breasts so they were completely revealed and then untied the plastic bag from my waist.

Slowly, making sure to turn me from side to side, they walked me back to the kitchen. Everyone now got a great view of the squash and the rest of my condition. All I felt was total humiliation.

I was almost glad to get back to the kitchen in spite of the large audience here. When I got to the fat manager, he had me turned around away from him, took the spatula, and delivered two quick smacks to my naked ass cheeks. I howled with outrage and pain because it stung like bee stings.

"Go now," the manager said. "Never come back here." I didn't have to tell him it would be a cold day in hell. He could read it in my scowl.

When I reached to pull out the squash, he smacked my ass again and I reacted by turning with fisted hands.

"Leave that until you are in the street. Your clothing will be waiting there for you." So it wasn't over yet.

I would have liked to lift my head and at least walk out of this place proudly but the string prevented it. I couldn't even comfortably look him in the eye. He sat back at his calculator and a waiter directed me toward the door, showing me he had the spatula in one hand now, along with my shorts and tank top in the other.

It galled me that I had to take small, mincing steps to maintain my balance with the squash in me and that I had to keep my head bent as I went through the restaurant again and out the door.

It was a four story walk down since the waiter wouldn't let me call the elevator, and every landing had another half dozen Arabic people standing on it. The entry lobby had more people and the street out front seemed to be filled from one end to the other. And every eye seemed to be on me as the waiter teased me with my own clothing until Mahmoud finally took them from him with a growl.

Putting on what I was sure was a spectacular show for the gathered people, I used my fingernails and both hands to expell the filthy squash, throwing it on the sidewalk by the door of the restaurant. Then I started fighting with the knot on one nipple. When it didn't seem to want to let go its hold, I fought with the other one. Frustrated, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.

Again Mahmoud came to the rescue, pulling the string painfully tight for a second and slicing it through with a dull pocket knife. One of the knots seemed to almost fall out of its own. The other took a few seconds of work on my part.

Still with my audience, I took my shorts and stepped into them before pulling my tank top over my head.

"Fuck you!" I screamed into the restaurant lobby before stalking off in the general direction of the car.

Chapter 10

MAHMOUD WAS PARTICULARLY solicitous of me and even put his arm around my shoulders on the last half of the walk to the car, making me comfortable in the back seat at the expense of the other guys who seemed to be trying to be kind as well. At least they didn't seem to protest too much.

When we got to the apartment, I told Mahmoud and anyone else nearby that I had to have a shower immediately. I'd never felt so dirty and the sticky yellow grease had even colored the front of the white shorts and was leaking down my legs disgustingly.

Though I wasn't prevented from going to the bathroom, Mahmoud was right there and, as I relieved my bladder and threw the soiled shorts across the small room, he used the water sprayer to wash some of the grease out from between my legs. One of the other guys turned on the water in the bath and even put in something that looked a little like bubble bath and smelled very feminine. Another helped me off with the tank top and threw it in the corner with the shorts.

Instead of feeling like I was being gang raped, a logical assumption, I just felt grateful for the help. At least I knew Mahmoud's thoughts primarily centered on helping me.

They gave me more than enough hands into the bath and all stood around as before, watching me soak. I didn't care but just lay back and enjoyed the warm, fragrant water and the sweat that broke out on my brow, sweating out the nastiness.

I think it was again Mahmoud's idea to provide the towel that someone insisted on sliding under my ass, soaking it of course, but raising my middle out of the water. Mahmoud's hands were the ones with the soap and washcloth, washing thoroughly between my legs and getting all semblance of the grease off. Someone else produced a commercial douche, stuck it between my legs, and filled my pussy with tingling liquid. I couldn't have told them if I wanted that I thought it would have been better to wait until I could sit on the toilet to do that. This way, I had to expend a little energy holding it in until I could get out and, immediately tingling with medication or acidy fluid, whatever, got uncomfortable quickly.

I would have liked to have just stayed there, soaking, for an hour or so and that prevented it. I was a little miffed.

I didn't hurry so fast that I didn't spend a good amount of time inspecting my nipples to make sure they weren't cut or otherwise damaged by the strings that had been tied to them. And I didn't jump out so quickly that they couldn't lather my entire body and wash my hair.

When they helped me out of the tub, I did insist on sitting on the toilet and emptying myself and wiping thoroughly before standing up again to let them all dry me with big scratchy towels. It felt as good as before though they seemed to stay away from my pussy and nipples more. I wasn't turned on and hadn't had an orgasm during the entire morning.

Since I had at least gotten full at the restaurant, all I really wanted now was, perhaps, a glass of tea and a nap.

No one provided me anything to put on and I thought about getting a dress but decided it just wasn't worth it. I sat down in the living room and someone provided me with a glass of tea right away.

They laughed and joked with each other as they watched me inspect my nipples at greater leisure and then as I sat in the heavy chair in a sort of modified lotus and made sure there were no remnants of the grease between my legs. It was dry and even a little difficult to inspect with a single finger. I think the douche may have had some effect on the dryness.

I couldn't help but chuckle when I looked around and saw the obvious hard-ons of my audience.

That's when I added to my requirements for the evening. A nice, mellow fuck would relax me perfectly.

I thought about taking Mahmoud to the bedroom and making slow love to him but decided that would probably get him in trouble with the others. I didn't want him to be ostracized for being nice to me. In fact, I wanted to reward him and the others who'd been nice to encourage them.

Mohamed, of course, was at the bottom of my list. I really thought he was the one who'd engineered the entire thing at the restaurant. Unfortunately, he'd been the best fuck of the bunch.

Done my way though, I thought I could enjoy Mahmoud fucking me just as much.

Ahmed and Amgad had tried hard to be kind after the restaurant thing so I decided to give them some kind of special rewards. My first, and worst, problem was my dryness. The thought of some sort of grease, even if it was Vaseline, nauseated me. I'd rather provide my own lubrication. The only way I could think to do that was to get turned on.

In pursuit of that, I got up and moved to a spot on the floor where I could be comfortable for a change. I thought it somehow appropriate that I crooked my finger at Mohamed, motioning him to me. When he got down on all fours, I spread my legs and made motions with my tongue, pointing at my pussy.

They all got excited when they realized I was actually asking for them to do things to me. Getting between my legs, Mohamed sweetly kissed the insides of my thighs as I looked down at him, urging him on with my seductive look. He didn't have to know that all he was going to get was a good taste of my pussy. His ego was intact enough that he was going to do his best at turning me on and at licking my pussy. He probably thought he was going to just move right up to fuck me but he would find out about that later. I wanted him to try his damnedest now.

Again, like his other things with me, he was going to show them all how it's done or bust trying. Instead of going straight for my pussy, where I wanted him right now, he licked and kissed his way down my leg, lifting it and kissing the back of my knee, nipping at my calf, licking my foot. He took my toes into his mouth one by one and sucked on each like they were little cocks or, more appropriately, little clitorises. Actually, I found, the metaphor wasn't that bad. The way he sucked them and the amount of feeling my heightened body had, they almost felt like little clitorises. When he was sucking on my long middle toe, I was getting very close. He ran his finger up the sole of my foot and I instantly climaxed. It was much more a surprise for me that it apparently was for him.

Enjoying the result, I guess, he did the same with the other foot until I was again on edge. I was sure it wouldn't work this time and he didn't try it. Instead he worked his way up my leg, giving attention to all the same places before nearing the place I was most interested in.

I moaned with frustration when he kissed it but bypassed it as quickly as he had my knees and shins. Instead, he turned me over on my stomach and proceeded up my back making shivers run up and down my spine with his tongue and lips. Nearing again, he opened his mouth wide and chomped into the globe of my ass. He took a big enough bite that it didn't worry me that he'd actually take a bite out of it even though the bite was hard enough that I wondered if he might not.

Then he did it to the other cheek, moved and did it again and again. He was chewing at my thighs and butt almost like a dog savaging a dead animal in the woods.

I'd gotten my elbows under me and held my upper body up slightly but what it had really done was to allow my nipples to drag with my motions across the rug. He held my center down solidly to the same carpet, my clit pressed into its bristles as were my labia and the front of my lower body to my knees.

As a sort of self preservation mechanism, I tried to close my knees but could only do that to his sides. As I thanked my stars for that, he said something and Sharif and Ahmed took my legs, spread me much wider, and bent my calves back up to a 90 degree angle and began chewing and sucking on my feet and toes as he had earlier.

I could do nothing but look over my shoulders alternately to try to see what he was doing to me and get some indication of what to expect next.

His hands spread my ass cheeks wide. I thought I actually heard him growl. And he dove into my untouched flesh he'd exposed that way. He bit hard, his upper teeth just below my tailbone and the lower ones right across my pussy. Thankfully, his tongue was between his lower teeth and my flesh or, I feared, they might have sunk right into the tender skin.

Each time he bit and released, bit and released, his ravaging attack drove my labia and clit into the rug again as well as driving little squeals of surprise, fear, and excitement from me. I was orgasming with each attack, whether they came with an second's interval or none.

"Oh ah!" I cried out as he moved his tongue and I felt his teeth across that sensitive skin. But he seemed to have backed off on the attack a little and it didn't really hurt. What I really reacted to was the feeling of his tongue as it lapped up between his lower teeth and upper, going directly across my anus. Chewing, he closed that distance considerably. Opening and reattacking, he got another bit of the fluids I was nearly squirting out of my vagina with the orgasms. I was saying things I didn't understand myself with each new bite, each new orgasm.

Then my body went into a sort of continuous spasm as his tongue hardened into a pointed stick and drove into my asshole. He used it like a long finger to drive into me, curl and explore, and pull back before driving in again.

His mouth was still chewing wildly as his tongue fucked me into a continuous spasm. I was truly thankful when he stopped and my head flopped downward between my forearms.

Then I felt some movement behind me and thought immediately of what it could be and knew I didn't want that. I turned my head and saw it was what I feared as he pulled his pants down and his huge cock flopped free but strangely softened. I could see the come glistening along its length then and knew he'd already climaxed in his pants.

But it didn't matter, he was going to get it hard again and put that massive thing in my ass. And I wasn't going to have any part in that.

"No, no, no!" I screamed and started crawling away from them. I was too fast for them and had turned on my side and drawn up my legs before they could do anything. Sharif still held one foot but Ahmed had lost his hold on the other, giving me a weapon I fully intented to use if he persisted.

He frowned at my defensive posture and looked disgustedly at the mess in his pants. Then he turned.

"Amgad?" he said and looked at me as if for agreement. At least Amgad was small and would probably prefer my pussy to my asshole. I relaxed my posture a little and he saw it and smiled.

"Amgad," he said and then added something else in Arabic. Then he motioned me back to where I'd been. Intrigued, I must have made a move in the right direction. Rather than wait for me to respond completely, he moved to the chair while the other three moved to me.

"Shwya," Amgad said, holding his fingers apart a little less than his real length but giving me the idea along with a smile.

They regained my calves and feet as before, still spreading me wide. I twisted my upper body to watch carefully what was going on. I could see the saliva and my come glistening all over my butt when Amgad lowered himself purposefully to the tight pucker of my asshole.

I mentally relaxed and eased the opening as much as I could as his small cock stroked the sensitive pucker. I was surprised at how hard he was and how easily it slipped into me. He was almost bent over double backwards, holding his upper body up on his extended arms at my sides as he pushed his center into me.

"Mmmmm. Ahhhh," I heard. It really felt good. Strange. Exotic. Different. But good.

I turned back to the position I'd been in before, on my elbows, and closed my eyes so I could concentrate on the feelings. I knew my mouth was open as he took long, slow strokes into me that pushed his center and his pubic hair into my ass hard before slowly moving back all the way out for the next slow inward movement.

I felt him lay his upper body against mine and liked it. He was kissing the back of my neck sensuously and his hand went around me to cover my breasts. That felt very good as well. He was doing much better at this than he had when he tried to fuck me the other time.

I knew that I could stay right at this level of arousal forever, happily. I was having minor orgasms, very controlled ones that didn't shake me. It was more the type that let me bite my lower lip softly without worrying about biting through it like I could have a moment before with Mohamed chewing on me.

I still gasped as I felt him roll to the side, nudging new places in me. Then we were on our backs with him still buried in my ass. I rolled my head back against his shoulder as he massaged my breasts and fucked my ass slowly and evenly. The other guys had slightly lifted my legs, now no longer able to go up at a 90 degree angle, of course, and were still sucking on toes and licking my feet adoringly.

All the attention alone, made this wonderful. All the stimulation, allowed Assem to put his finger most of the way into my pussy before I even noticed that it was there. And when I did, it felt just fine, fitting into my floating sexual cloud.

I felt it much more when his tongue tip touched my swollen and red clit. His even upward licks and gentle insertion into my pussy, made me respond by rolling my center and fucking myself in the ass on Amgad's dick. Knowing it, I started rolling my center to make the whole thing work together so nicely.

And it was slowly escalating until my legs were vibrating with the tension. Then one of the guys with my feet couldn't stand the pace any longer and sucked hard on my long toe. It sent an immediate chill up my leg that turned my body partially away from it. The other one did it and I arched and twisted back with the feelings. Assem plunged his fingers deeper and harder into my pussy, making me gasp as he sucked hard on my clit. That drew a gasp from me. Amgad moved in my ass with each of my movements.

I was so close. It was maddening.

As if sensing it, Assem moved up my body leaving a slimy track of saliva across my stomach, up my ribcage, over each of my nipples before Amgad covered them with his hands again. Then he was covering my mouth and my fingernails were in the skin of his shoulders as I felt his fat cock press against my uterus. I'm sure my nails went into his flesh as he pressed forward and slid all the way inside me. It felt like he'd added a telephone pole into my already partially filled body. His tongue in my mouth filled the last available orafice as he began to stroke in and out of me in opposition to Amgad's movements.

I'm sure that's when my orgasms took over my body and my muffled screams filled both our heads.

I was very surprised, since I retained full contact with everything, when they lasted as long as they did. Maybe as many as a dozen strokes before they were both grunting and filling my body with their thick juices.

When they drew out of me, I think a quart of our mixed fluids ran out onto the rug in the middle of the living room before someone helped me up, leaking a little more, and off down the hallway to the bathroom.

All of them came in a few minutes later, full of laughter and touches, helping me push everything out by pressing on my stomach and otherwise getting in the way. I found that I was laughing with them.

Chapter 11

THAT NIGHT WAS the first time I shared the master bedroom's huge bed with the guys -- three guys that night. Maybe it was the newness of it that made it such a restless night.

It seemed, even after a marathon love making session when we went to bed sometime after midnight, that I hardly closed my eyes before someone's fingers were on me or in me as if one or the other of them had thought of something new and different to try.

Not surprisingly, once I woke with a cock in my mouth. Once with a couple of fingers in my asshole. And once laying fully on top of one of them, buried in my pussy but sound asleep below me. Strangely, it was a strange, rather reassuring, secure feeling rather than just being obnoxious.

However, obviously I didn't sleep terribly well and spent the next day moving from one nap to another.

I never stopped enjoying their increasingly obvious adoration of me. Or at least of my body.

At least one of them looked at me, a smile playing on his lips, all the time during the day. If there was a time that wasn't true, I must have napped through it. They all ate meals with me and took tea breaks with me. They dressed me in everything I owned during the next two days with all kinds of interesting variations that included no blouse or bra but a long skirt, stockings, panties, and high heels for several hours; a dress with the low cut top carefully folded and tucked around my exposed breasts; and everything quite chaste except for the skirt of a dress carefully pinned at the front of my waist above where panties might have been.

At one time or another, each of them gave me a bath or shower -- more than I'd had in two days any time in my life. Sometimes they joined me in the water and fucked me. Sometimes they just washed me very thoroughly.

When I went to the bathroom, I invariably had an audience and never lacked for someone to ensure the business area was very clean afterwards. Many times, my pussy was filled from the spray hose normally used by Egyptians in lieu of toilet paper. The disadvantage of that kind of cleaning, of course, was that I tended to be quite dry afterward and required some external lubrication before anyone could do more than touch me externally.

The same treatment to my asshole at least superficially helped to cleanse the accumulated come out of it. But it didn't come as a huge surprise when Ahmed returned from a trip out of the apartment with a long length of surgical hose about half an inch in diameter. I took a nap while they brainstormed on the proper accoutrements to the hose.

They woke me gently and took me to the bathroom for the experience I knew was coming and had no idea of result or of anything. Method. Reason. Anything.

The cold edge of the plastic bathtub was not a particularly good start as they had me get in and then bend over it to support my upper half with my arms. Since it was Ahmed's idea, he won the honors of feeding an extensive amount of the smoothed and lubricated hose up my ass. That was not particularly unpleasant, though it wasn't my idea of a great time.

I'd seen the rest of their invention when they got me in position but I really didn't know how they intended to use it. I guess I should have paid closer attention because I might have found a way to veto the entire idea.

When one of them lifted the plastic wash bucket off the floor of the bathtub and tipped the water into the plastic bag that connected it with the hose, I felt the liquid pressing the air into my bowels and the strange gurgling feeling of the bubbles flowing back up the tube. My stomach contracted by itself producing a kind of closed circuit fart up the tube and into the bag of water. They laughed at that and chattered constantly as I felt the first of the liquid enter so deep inside me.

That's when I stopped thinking about them or the apparatus or the cold of the bath tub's edge or anything else but that very intimate touch of slightly cool something deep inside me.

"Aaaah!" I squealed at the feeling as it built.

At first it just felt like something moving around inside me in a place where nothing had ever moved in quite this way before. Then a cramp hit hard in reaction to it and changed my surprised moan to one of discomfort. For one thing, I was sure it was going to be impossible for me to hold more than a few teaspoons of the water before I embarrassed myself by expelling it around the tube. Certainly my body had that firmly in mind. Independent of anything I might want or not want, my guts wanted that water out of me right now and was working hard to accomplish that task to the exclusion of all else.

I know my knees spread, my legs opening wider. Peripherally, I knew my toes were spread in the same way, like a duck trying to walk on water. I'm sure my mouth was open, my head back, my neck muscles strained, my eyes wide open in a kind of shock. The concentration on that area of my body was all consuming.

I could hear the bubbles, feel the liquid flowing around inside me. The cramps moved around from my asshole to my female tummy to my upper bowel. I imagined I could feel the water snaking around through the miles of internal tubing, each turn producing a new and different cramp or feeling.

Because they were definitely cramps, I don't want to give the impression that it was completely unpleasant. I mean, cramps aren't generally considered to represent any kind of enjoyment. But it also seemed to press on an entire set of new and quite sensitive nerve centers. And that was quite pleasant.

The guys certainly enjoyed the show. Their chatter and laughter seemed to grow the more my body writhed on the edge of the tub and my head bobbed and weaved in its reactions.

"My-my clit. Oh, please. Touch my clit. Play with ... guuuh! Uhhh! No! No! F-f-fuck ... ah ... f-fuck me. Quick! Quick! Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me," I screamed as I writhed there.

I don't know who jumped into the tub and pulled the tube up between my asscheeks and plunged their cock into me. But I couldn't thank them enough as I started orgasming, the fluid pitched and rolled, compressed and decompressed by each thrust. I'm sure I was screaming but I don't know what I was screaming or even if it made any sense.

The next thing that really registered was that someone had lifted my upper body by literally putting their hands on my dangling breasts and lifting up until my upper half was higher than the lower. Whoever had accommodated my need to be fucked, was no longer in me but now it didn't matter as the tube was slowly, carefully pulled back out of me.

These orgasms were different even as I felt the fluids begin to roll down the inside of my thighs. My body knew what to do even if I would never have figured it out. The water literally sprayed out of me as the hose came free.

Embarrassing or not, my climaxes built to continuous and unbelievable heights that only lessened when I felt what I thought was the last of the water expelled.

I think I heard someone say the equivalent of the Egyptian "Yuck!" and they got me to my weak feet and turned on the shower above me. One held me up -- something I'm sure I was incapable of -- while at least one other scrubbed me from waist down. My body kept ruining their work by expelling still another and another gob of shitty water.

When I at least temporarily stopped doing that, they helped me out of the shower and onto the toilet where I found that there was still a considerable amount of liquid inside me. As they turned to giving each other doses of the enema (producing prodigious hard-ons and spontaneous climaxes), I squeezed my stomach and twisted and turned in an attempt to get the last of the fluid out of me.

I'd succeeded just at a time when the first of them badly needed to take my place.

At that stage, I was actually quite happy that I was forgotten and could silently slip into the big bed by myself. That night I slept soundly and throughout the night.

Chapter 12

SINCE I'D GONE to bed so early, I woke similarly early. In a country where virtually no one stirs before 9 a.m., I woke up in the dark and enjoyed uninterrupted peace for hours. And, of course, I couldn't enjoy it at all.

After half an hour of the horrid TV at that hour, I dressed quietly, without waking anyone, and walked out of the building by myself for the first time in days. I found the idea of putting a bunch of ugly clothes on almost disgusting. Instead, I'd slipped into a pair of white heels and a white silk shirtcut dress. The only way to keep the buttons from gapping open was not to button them over my breasts, which meant that the vee neck opened below them. It was just perverseness that made me leave the bottom three buttons unbuttoned on the already short skirt.

Leaving the alleyway, I walked in a straight line in a generally downward direction that I knew would eventually lead to the sea. In sight of the water, a major cross street intersected the one I walked down. Looking carefully and waiting for several speeding cars, I trotted across to the center median strip, paused again, and went the rest of the way.

There were a handful of people on the entire ten block walk to the normally busy street along the sea wall. At least I knew where I was now and could have gotten home eventually if I'd wanted to. But that sounded about as interesting as watching TV. Instead, I walked down the sidewalk along the top of the seawall, watching the sea birds and enjoying the cool breeze.

For a while, I watched a man fish as the sun slowly made an appearance. Unsuccessfully, as far as I could tell. A few more cars began to appear on the street and the omnipresent horns began to honk.

I walked slowly with my hands clasped behind my back as the sun rose and the sky lost its orange morning cast and changed to light blue. I suppose I was swinging my hips as I walked in the high heels but I really didn't do it on purpose.

I turned around and started back down the sidewalk, knowing that though I'd enjoyed the walk and the freedom, I was heading back to the apartment.

It was my swinging hips that gained me my first whistles and "pss pss pss" from young guys either walking along the sidewalk or sitting on the seawall. Mostly, I ignored the attention and continued my walk but sometimes I'd meet the guys' open-eyed stares, following the paths of their eyes to my chest or legs. They certainly weren't trying to cover up what they were looking at. But they weren't making any moves toward me either. I didn't feel threatened. Just watched.

I was about a block from the turn back up the hill to the apartment when I heard the screech of car tires and looked back. It was Mohamed's old car at the curb with Ahmed and Assem jumping out and running toward me. I'm sure I backed away from them in sheer reaction to their running toward me even though I was rather happy to see them. The part of my walk I relished the least was the walk back up the hill in the warming air. I knew I'd be soaked with sweat before I got back to the apartment and a ride would really be appreciated.

The two guys grabbed my arms when they reached me and pulled me toward the car. I didn't resist since I'd gotten over my instinctive withdrawal from their quick movement toward me.

"Hi, guys," I said with a smile but they didn't look amused. They stuffed me into the back seat of the car rather uncerimoniously and everyone inside began chattering in Arabic and gesturing wildly.

"I said!" Mohamed said to me loudly, quieting everyone else. "No go! Yes?"

"I just went for a walk," I said, defending myself. "Imshee. I was coming back to the apartment."

Of course, no one understood what I was saying beyond the "Imshee."

Mohamed didn't even try to speak English to me but seemed to rail with anger. As he did, his eyes roamed up and down my body, pointing as if he was taking note of what I was wearing or what I looked like or something. And he wasn't happy with what he saw, from what I could tell. He said some things and all the guys seemed to add their comments. There was a discussion and everyone thought a lot and said things, quieting somewhat now.

Then they started talking again and seemingly arguing. Then Assem reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife and, for the first time since I'd been with them, I was scared. Ahmed and Sharif, who were sitting on either side of me in the tightly packed back seat, reached to the front of the dress and began unbuttoning buttons.

I gasped in reaction to the hands moving swiftly over me, opening the dress to view by anyone walking by. In fact, looking out the side windows, I saw we'd gathered an audience of a half dozen guys who were looking in the open door or the windows of the car as the dress opened up. I hoped that at least that would mean they wouldn't kill me or hurt me with witnesses all around.

When the dress was opened wide, Assem and Ahmed held it tight and Assem used his knife, that I was amazed at how sharp it was, to cut out a large piece of material. They repeated that with the other side of the dress's front before doing some more cutting on the skirt. I had no idea of what they were doing beyond ruining the dress and impressing me with how sharp the knife was.

Then Ahmed and Sharif began rebuttoning the remaining buttons and I had a better idea of what they had been doing. With all the buttons buttoned, the remaining material was tight across my stomach and around my waist. But no material remained from armpit to armpit to the first button below my breasts. And none remained from hip to hip from the waist down.

This, I guessed, was how I was going to spend the ride back to the apartment and, probably, much of the day after we got back. It would be embarrassing, trying to cover myself -- if they let me -- but at least it was only a few blocks.

It didn't surprise me too much, even though I didn't like it, when Ahmed and Sharif leaned me forward in the seat and pulled my arms behind my back. I don't know who's belt it was, but it went around my arms, locking my elbows together tightly before they let me sit back again. Obviously, I wasn't going to be able to cover up at all. I blushed at the thought and, since I was looking down my body at the time, saw the blush coat my exposed chest.

I watched Assem back out of the still open door of the car onto the sidewalk but I certainly didn't expect what happened next. Ahmed, with Sharif's help from behind me, pulled me toward the door of the car. I think I probably cried out as I realized what they intended for me for the next few minutes. Ahmed jerked me to my feet next to the car and our audience burst into loud chatter as they looked my nearly naked body up and down.

They only gave ground when Assem propelled me forward toward them. I almost fell as he did that.

"Imshee!" he said, along with another phrase that I recognized as "bad wife." Then he was saying something about "American" and more phrases that started with bad, "mish".

I'd stopped before I ran into the crowd of men and didn't see the belt coming. I only felt it and reacted to it when it smacked across my bottom. I know I cried out then. It hurt in a sharp, surprising, stinging way that I hadn't felt since I was an early teen and my father caught me stealing from a local store. The others of my spankings had been when I was younger and always with a hand. That one had made my minor theft a memorable experience. And not a pleasant one in the least.

I turned just as Ahmed delivered a second stinging whack.

"Imshee!" he said, pointing back along the sidewalk. When he coiled his arm for another delivery, I walked. Just to get away from it, looking over my shoulder as I moved to at least see if another blow was coming. When he coiled his arm again, I moved some more and faster. I noticed that the car was moving now at the same pace I did.

It appeared that Ahmed was to herd me back toward the apartment, or at least down the seaside sidewalk, while everyone else rode along behind.

Ahmed started a steady stream of Arabic in which I recognized only the phrase "bad wife". As long as I kept walking, he didn't even threaten the belt but as soon as I slowed he threatened again without delivering the blow. I'm a fast learner and I really didn't like getting hit when I couldn't defend myself.

Our audience fell into strange step with us, turned backwards or sideways as they walked a little in front of me to watch my assets. With my arms tied behind my back, my breasts were very prominent and my pussy totally open to view.

I turned my head forward, knowing now that I wouldn't be hit if I kept going in the right direction. I threw my shoulders back proudly and walked. I didn't particularly enjoy the chattering and laughing group of men -- boys really

-- but they left me alone and I didn't understand their comments. I was sure they weren't flattering, of course. After all, I was a bad wife being punished in this way.

I heard Ahmed's command to turn and saw that we were across the wide street from the sidestreet back to the apartment. I stopped on the curb to watch the now heavy traffic speed by, hoping that I wouldn't gain more hits as I waited. Of course, every car that passed was filled with people. All were staring at my naked body standing there on the curb.

To make it worse, Ahmed stood close to me as we waited for a break in traffic and squeezed my buns and made comments in a steady stream. I didn't even look at him. Mad now.

"Bad wife." That really galled me and being treated like this -- paraded down the street -- that galled me even more.

I'd been more than ready to go back to the apartment a little while ago. Now I was pissed and, for the first time in days, was ready to get out of there. Even to turn them in for kidnapping if I happened to come upon a cop on this walk.

The car turned across the street as the first break in traffic appeared and I stepped off the curb to take advantage of it. As if he'd been remiss, the belt smacked across my ass again and I jumped. I'd have killed him at that moment if my arms had been free.

They weren't, so I could only growl at him and stare hatred in his direction. He caught it and, I was pretty sure, was done hitting me.

To make sure, I said, "If you do that again, motherfucker, I'm going to push your balls into your throat!" He didn't understand the words but he understood the sentiment.

I didn't intend to slow down for long enough to give him reason and, now, I didn't think he'd do it again unless he had good reason.

I walked the three blocks back to the busy street as proudly as I could under the circumstances. He stopped his running commentary for much of it and the audience slowly dropped off until there were only a couple of hard core hangers-on. I refused even to look at them, even if they ran into a wall while they walked backward ahead of me. One actually tripped and sprawled in front of me. I just walked around him.

I warned Ahmed with a look as we stood on the curb waiting for a break in the busy street's traffic. This one was busy enough to warrant an Egyptian version of a stoplight. A policeman sat in a raised box across the street from us, controlling the red and green switches. I'm sure this light was much shorter than normal.

I walked proudly across the street in front of four lanes of cars from each direction, the inhabitants of which stared, chattered, and had trouble keeping their mouths closed normally as they watched me.

Half way across the street, I saw the car already parked along the sidestreet and Sharif talking to the traffic cop in the box about what he was seeing. Even if the cop understood English, which I doubted, he probably wouldn't believe me over Sharif and Ahmed and a carload of other guys.

One of the advantages of the street crossing was that we'd left the last of the audience behind.

Across the busy street, we walked in front of a grocery and Ahmed repeated his statements about the bad wife. The older grocer asked something and Ahmed responded. Bolder than any human I'd ever known, the grocer stepped in front of me, blocking my path, reached out and rolled my nipple between his fingers. That was really the first time that I'd notice my nipples were as hard as rocks.

After a moment of that, he curled his lip and stepped aside. I glared at him and said, "Cocksucker! I hope your fingers fall off!" He grinned and I thought he probably understood at least some of what I'd said. We walked on up the street. There was laughter behind us as we walked.

We walked past a dress shop and I saw a half dozen chattering women, with their scarves over their hair, looking at me from the display window and felt their eyes on me after we'd passed. I felt embarrassment again and bit down on it.

In the next block, it seemed like young girls in black skirts, white blouses, and white scarves were everywhere. Without exception, they all stared at me, chattered and laughed or hid their eyes.

Ahmed leveled a barrage of "bad wife" statements as we passed through half of the crowd of girls. Several of them seemed fascinated and fell in beside us, not really looking at me as the guys on the seaside had but trying to understand what was going on. Several of them asked my name but I knew that was one of the first phrases they learned in English and they were only practicing. Ahmed told them anyway and spoke to them nicely.

The group got tighter and noisier the further we went and, although they weren't in my path, they slowed my progress or diverted me from side to side to avoid them.

Then several of them started talking animatedly to Ahmed and his hand went to my arm and stopped me. "Stanna henna," he said, meaning stay here. Stopped, I didn't have any choice but to stay there or plow into the crowd of young girls. They clustered around me and suddenly, there were hands and fingers on me everywhere.

I had to close my eyes because one little girl reached her finger toward it. Some traced my ears and neck and chinline. Some found my lips and a finger actually went into my mouth. But, of course, those were just distractions. The fingers that concerned me more were the ones that found my nipples and bounced my breasts and traced the shape of my labia.

The ones that lifted me out of time and place -- and incidentally showed me that I was very turned on by this entire experience -- were the ones that found my clit and my pussy and, though it hadn't been exposed by the holes in my dress, my ass. They had only explored me for a minute before my body reacted to it with a short series of shuddering climaxes.

That display, of course, caused a great deal of chatter and laughter that extended the experience with variations of soft touches and lighter orgasms.

If there had been a necessity, Ahmed had probably proven that I was a "bad wife" with my orgasms.

As if to bring me back to the real world, a block after we'd lost the girls to their school, an old Arabic woman dressed all in black wrinkled her nose at the sight of me and spit on me three times before I was out of range. The only thing on this walk I'd enjoyed, other than the girls' school, was the sound of the belt as Ahmed chastized the woman for spitting.

She was still screaming epithets at him a block later.

This uphill walk seemed to last forever. But it was never worse than when we went past the boys' school.

On any given day, the boys' schools were downright obnoxious. Noisy. The boys walked in the way of traffic. They were outwardly negative to everyone. In short, they were teenaged boys.

Today, of course, they sunk to new depths in my opinion, from the second they saw me.

First the noise level rose beyond the ability of the human ear to distinguish it from the sound of the Concorde. Then there was an excess of stupid physical displays -- jumping, back flips, ogling, strange faces, everything obnoxious you can think of. Then one took the liberty of a quick pinch of my nipple. I cringed away though he was already ten feet away before I'd hardly reacted.

Two of them actually pulled out their dicks and began beating off lewdly in front of me. I only hoped, as I walked, that I'd catch up to them enough to kick as hard as I possibly could without falling onto my back. They didn't give me the opportunity. I laughed as they both came almost simultaneously and only dribbled across their own knuckles and onto their pants. It served them right.

Making eye contact with members of the crowd, I even got their friends to laugh at them. That was rewarding. I kept shaking my head, laughing, and saying, "Mish quis." Bad.

Though I'd had that minor success, a few yards further and I'd lost my newfound supporters and someone quickly and painfully stuck his hand between my legs. I'd have knocked his head off just in reaction if my arms had been free. But, of course, they weren't.

I thought I might forgive Ahmed when I heard his belt making contact numerous times and a stream of outraged Arabic flowing over these guys' heads. I increased my pace as the crowd of young men thinned, split by my pursed lips and hard stares that should have withered 100-year-old trees. But these brats were impervious to anything and I still sustained a couple of very painful pinches on my ass as I cleared the main group.

Now I could see the alleyway and the apartment building I'd left before first light and increased my pace, outstripping Ahmed by a hundred yards. I never fooled myself, of course. The entire rest of the group of guys were leaning on the car when I got to the entrance of the alleyway.

Mohamed walked up in front of me, blocking my progress with a rather smug look on his face.

I think he was truly surprised when I spoke.

"Nadia! Henna! Delwati!" Get Nadia here now. And it wasn't a tone of voice that was easily argued with. I saw that he understood and that it wasn't debatable. I'm sure the look in my eyes told him anything else he might want to know.

Chapter 13

THINKING THEY MIGHT not do what I asked, I waited until we were in the lobby of the apartment house before I turned my back to Ahmed and made it obvious that it was time to get that belt off my arms. Amazingly intuitive, he did it almost right away, only having to be told two different ways.

I rubbed my arms to return the circulation, put my hands in the buttoned portion of the remaining dress, and split it open, sending buttons everywhere in my continuing fury. No one went into the bathroom with me when I filled the tub, used the toilet, and then sunk into the moderately warm water.

No one watched me or washed me or otherwise bothered me while I enjoyed the treat. I still felt dirty from that walk home when I got out of the water an hour later.

Without consulting anyone, I walked into the bedroom, found both a bra and panties, put on thigh high stockings and red heels, and found the longest dress I had. I sighed as I saw the filmy material that covered my body from wrists to mid thigh. But it was covered and I vowed it wasn't likely to be uncovered soon for these guys.

During my extended bath, I'd heard raised voices several times. Mostly, I ignored them.

When I went into the living room again, the first person I saw was Nadia as she got up and came to me, putting her arms around me and accepting my hug and gentle kiss. She was wearing a brilliant white scarf over her hair and a shapeless blouse and long skirt. Except for her quite prominent breasts, the clothing covered her shape completely.

"Thank you for coming, Nadia," I started and she smiled and nodded.

She didn't waste any time. "They said you left."

"I did. It was very early because I went to bed very early. The sun wasn't up. So I took a walk and ended up at the ocean. It was so pretty this morning and I was feeling very good."

"You went for a walk?"

"Yeah. I was only a few blocks away from my old apartment."

"Where is that?" I told her. She knew it was a long way away.

"Then I decided I really wanted to be here with the guys. I turned around and came back.

"I was almost to the street where you turn up. You know?"

"Yes," she said. "They told me where they found you." I nodded.

"I was nearly back when they showed up."

"Are you a prisoner?" she asked, frowning.

"Ask them. Maybe I was at first. But I found for a while that I liked being here and being with them. Ask them if I'm a prisoner."

I waited while she turned to them and talked for a while. There was some wild arm waving and lots of Arabic.

"They are very stupid," she said. "They say you are not prisoner but they don't want you to leave. I don't understand, I think."

"Me neither. Either I'm a prisoner, or I'm free to go where I want and come back when I want. One or the other." She nodded and turned to the men. To their credit, all but Mohamed and Sharif nodded their heads as she talked to them and looked embarrassed. Mohamed looked defiant. Sharif looked as if he was unaffected. That was a little scary.

"What did they tell you about what they did to me this morning?" I asked.

"They said you walked back from the Corniche," she answered. I got up and went back to the bathroom, regaining my dress.

"I was wearing this and a pair of heels," I told her as I held it in front of myself. She gasped and her mouth fell open. "They tied my arms behind my back with a belt and Ahmed hit me with his belt several times." Her head swiveled to the men with astonishment.

"They made me walk that way across the two busiest streets in town and then past a whole bunch of shops." She still stared at them. "Then we went past the girls' school and they let the girls touch me and play with me and experiment."

She broke into an unbroken string of Arabic, complete with gestures and lots of facial expressions. Even Mohamed's arrogance broke under her onslaught.

Then I told her about walking past the boys' school and the color drained from her face. That occasioned an extended talk that made Mohamed and Sharif both blush before she stopped. Then she teed off on Ahmed and Assem for a while and they were practically crawling under the sofa before she was finished with them.

"I ask them now if you are a prisoner here," she said and turned to the men. Although Sharif and Mohamed were slower to respond than the others, they all strongly expressed their Arabic no's. "I tell them that if I feel that you are being held against your will, I will call police. Is that good?" she asked. I nodded and smiled for her. She turned and told them and they all looked chastened.

"Nadia. Tell them I like to be here. Like to be with them. But that I have to be my own person, too. And that might include leaving for a while without any of them." She nodded and talked for quite a while. Longer, I thought, than the statement should have required.

"They understand that, Amy" she said. Again most of them looked happy at my statement.

"Now tell them that because of what they did today, Mohamed, Ahmed, Assem, and Sharif will not touch me or I will leave and I won't come back." She interpreted and the four guys looked a little ashamed and, more satisfying, upset. "Actually, they might as well leave because anything that goes on today will be out of bounds for them." She interpreted again and they shrugged but stayed seated.

"Did the other two do anything to help you or stop what was happening? Did they say anything?"

"I don't know. I didn't hear what they said in the car and I don't understand enough Arabic." She spoke to them for a minute and, to his credit I guess, Mohamed said Mahmoud didn't want to do it and had wanted them to get me into the car before they left the Corniche. And Sharif, as if not to be outdone, said the Amgad didn't want to do it either. Ahmed said he didn't want to do it either but, of course, I wasn't likely to forgive him for the smacks with the belt.

"Mahmoud? Shay. Delwati," I said and was satisfied when he almost jumped up and went into the kitchen. Nadia and I talked quietly until he returned with cups of tea. I asked her to tell him to stand right where he was beside the table and, smiling slightly, he did as he was told. I sent him back for a second cup when we finished that.

That was when Sharif, Mohamed, Assem, and Ahmed decided to retreat in disgust. Nadia took one more verbal shot at them as they went through the door.

"Ask Amgad if he wants to ..." I paused to think how to say it delicately, not for Amgad but for Nadia. "If he wants to be around me." She interpreted and he responded positively. "Then tell him to come stand here." I pointed to a spot right in front of both of us. He walked to the spot as if there were an actual x on the floor he should stand on.

"Tell him to take all his clothes off." Nadia's eyes went wide with surprise and she gulped. But then she said it, although, I thought, it sounded a little weak. Amgad looked at me and turned pale. Then he looked at Nadia and gulped and turned even more pale. "Come on," I said and made impatient motions with my hand.

His hands shook as he moved to the buttons of his shirt but in a few seconds, the shirt was open and then off. He didn't have a great chest but it was undeniably male and I noticed that Nadia was staring open-mouthed. He stepped out of his floppy sandals and began undoing his pants while Nadia stared and blushed brightly.

I figured that if she was offended, she'd tell me or leave. And if she didn't leave, then I'd include her in my plans. Her eyes followed every move he made as he stripped the pants down his legs and dropped them on the floor. I could see that he had a hard-on and was no more impressive than the last time I'd seen him. But he was progressing faster in how to use what he had than any of the others. I motioned again when he was standing there with just his underpants on. He blushed wildly as he started taking them off.

Nadia stared, her mouth wide open, as he pushed them down to his knees and then stepped out of them.

"You see what I mean now. Not impressive but he's willing to please. And I like that." I turned back to him.

"Amgad. Shay. Delwati." He seemed grateful to have something to do besides try to cover himself unsuccessfully and almost trotted into the kitchen with our cups, his dick bouncing.

"Mahmoud?" I said, motioning and he caught it right away. He smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt, stepped out of his shoes, and undid his pants. I could easily see that he wasn't fully hard by the look of his underpants. He took them off and proved my conjecture but Nadia seemed even more impressed than before. I smiled to myself, knowing how impressed she'd be when she saw it hard.

Amgad returned with the tea and stood at the side of the table with his hands clasped behind his butt and an embarrassed grin.

"Nadia. Tell them both to go in the bathroom and shave. Shave their faces really well. But make sure and shave everything down there." I pointed and her eyes followed my pointing finger. "All of it. Tell them to help each other if there is anything they can't see for themselves but make sure there's nothing there I can find. I'll look. For sure."

She told them and they both almost turned purple with embarrassment. But they went to the bathroom to do what I'd told them anyway. Or at least I thought that's what they went for.

Nadia and I sat and talked and drank our tea while we waited. I noticed that every few seconds, she looked toward the bathroom as if she couldn't wait to see. We'd just finished our tea when Mahmoud came back out while she was looking at me instead of the bathroom. She saw me look over her shoulder and almost spun around to look. Her eyes blinked from a normal position to waist level and, after a pause, back up.

"Here," I said, pointing to a spot right next to me. He walked to the spot and I looked and couldn't see a hair. But, to embarrass him as much as possible, I made sure by rubbing the area over the top of his partially hardened cock and then down across his balls. I knew how hard it was to shave there because I'd had a vasectomy and had to shave my balls once. Either he hadn't had much hair there in the first place, or had done an excellent job.

I had him turn around, put his hands on his buns, and had him spread his cheeks. He'd done well there, too.

Amgad came into the room and was much more embarrased than Mahmoud had been.

"Nadia? You check. Okay?" She actually gasped but said something and he sidled up near her. I saw that her fingers were shaking but she touched the area just as I had and let her fingers trail down to his balls. I could see hair there but I wanted her to say it if she wanted to. She had him turn around and I could see more as she had him hold his ass cheeks as I had Mahmoud. She was blushing so brightly, I thought she might be having a heart attack.

She said something, frowned, and he headed back toward the bathroom. I was surprised when she got up and followed him.

"Shay, Mahmoud," I said, having to clear my throat and he took my cup, gesturing toward Nadia's. I shrugged and he ignored it. Less than a minute later, he was back and stood just as he had before. I picked up my cup of tea with one hand and put my hand around his cock with the other. He grunted but he stayed. Of course, I might have held on tight and let him pull it off if he'd moved. But it wasn't necessary.

A few minutes later, Nadia returned from the bathroom with a big smile. "I helped," she said with a blush and a minute later Amgad followed. Now I couldn't see a single hair and I was sure she'd checked quite closely. He was still hard from the inspection, in fact.

Even with that, when Nadia caught sight of Mahmoud, her eyes got big and her mouth dropped open in amazement.

I purposely decided to break the spell.

"Come," I said and held onto Mahmoud's dick as I went to the balcony door and swung it open. For the first time, he held back a little before I forced him out onto the balcony by pulling on that sensitive skin I still had hold of. Forcing him between me and the railing, I screamed. Then I said, "Hey, look!" loudly.

I stepped around behind him and held his long dick in both hands while we waited. I didn't have long to wait and, satisfyingly, the first to come onto their balcony were the two young girls. I would have thought they'd be embarrassed but, acting almost as if they were watching TV, they stood and chattered and pointed. Mahmoud was blushing so thoroughly, the back of his neck was red.

An older woman and then a middle aged man came out on other balconies. The woman looked disgusted but stayed and looked. The man said something in Arabic and looked disgusted but he too stayed.

Instructing Mahmoud to stay put, I went back inside and got Amgad who was almost apoplectic in his resistence. But he finally went with me when he saw that I wasn't going to back down. He gasped when he looked out and saw the people gathered across the narrow street, looking at him. He went instantly soft, much to the amusement of the two girls particularly but I noticed that the other two smirked as well.

I waved to them all and herded the guys back inside. The two young girls yelled, "Bravo," that I thought was an unexpected continental cheer. I grinned at them before shutting the shutters behind us.

"Okay, Nadia," I said as I sat back down and told them both to get us tea again. "What do you think?" She shrugged.

"After what they did to you, it is all right."

"Oh, yeah. They all did that to me a few days ago. That wasn't what I meant. What I meant was, what now?"

"I don't understand," she said, blushing so I knew she was lying. I grinned at her and watched her squirm.

"Would you take off your scarf?" I asked. She looked at me, sighed and lifted one side to throw it back over her shoulder. She did the same with the other side and then lifted the silky material off her head. The long thick black hair absolutely glistened around her face and had obviously been washed and carefully brushed this morning.

"Oh, Nadia! It's beautiful!" I stood up and walked to her side, running my fingers through it and spreading it to its fullness around her face and shoulders. "How can you cover it?" I exclaimed.

"My father wishes it," she said softly.

"The old pervert," I stated with a grimace and she grinned.

The guys brought back the tea and did a double take when they looked at Nadia, neither of them able to take their eyes off her.

"I'm glad my brother isn't here," she said.

"Your brother can only wish he was," I answered with disgust. She blushed and giggled lightly.

I noticed that she was staring at Mahmoud's partially hardened cock as she sipped her tea. She was also squirming in her chair and doing a lot of leg movements.

"I think you should touch it, Nadia," I said, carefully unconcerned. She blushed and looked at me but I purposely set my face, looking into my tea. She said something in Arabic and Mahmoud took a step closer to her. She frowned as she touched it, obviously trying to look unconcerned and detached, and ran her fingers shakily along the length of it. He stood like a good boy with his hands behind him but I could see the tiny movements of his muscles along his hips, stomach, and legs.

"It's nice when it's all freshly shaved like that. Clean and sweet looking," I noted. I was really amazed when she only nodded, still staring at where her fingers were moving on it, and mumbled "Uh huh."

"I'll bet it would taste good, too," I said and her hand shook in reaction to the statement, almost letting go. "I mean, a little kiss couldn't hurt. Right? Then you could smell it and see if it is as sweet as it looks. If they did a good job, you know."

She still hadn't looked at me or, for that matter, at anything but the object her fingers explored. Putting both feet on the floor and holding her knees tight together, she leaned forward and did exactly as I'd suggested. Her hand held him up as her nostrils flared as she sniffed. Her lips contacted the silky skin of his tip and he gasped softly. Any smugness on his face had fled completely. She kissed and smelled, kissed and smelled.

I'm not sure who was more shocked when she opened her mouth and her tongue went across the tip, taking the large drop of pre-come I'd seen before. All of us were even more surprised when she slid the head of it into her lips. The cyclical movements of his muscles and his lips, trying not to speak, told me her tongue was moving around his tip inside her mouth. This was going better than I'd thought it would.

"Don't spoil him, Nadia," I whispered softly, hoping to retain the mood. She moved back and reluctantly removed her hand. She didn't try to say anything and only stared at it.

"Stand up, Nadia," I said and wondered for the minute before she reacted whether she would do it or not. Finally she did, with a sigh. "Unbutton her blouse, Mahmoud."

It didn't take a minute for him to respond. His hands were at the buttons almost before I'd finished the sentence. And, though it wasn't particularly sensual, he undid them quickly.

"Take it off," I added, probably unnecessarily. He pushed it off her shoulders and she put her arms at her sides so it slid to her wrists before it stopped moving downward. From my position to the side and behind her, my impression was that she had a tremendously ugly white bra, a silky back, and a very small waist. I had thought that it was pretty considerable from what she wore all the time and I was definitely wrong. She put her arms behind her and pulled the sleeves off her wrists to let the blouse fall to the floor.

I didn't have to instruct him to reach behind her and undo the bra before pushing the wide shoulder straps off her shoulders. She let it drop in front of her.

The men's jaws dropped but, I noticed, so did mine. She had to have 38D cup breasts, at least, topped by two inch areolas swelled above them. And, as if cherries to the chocolate topped mounds of ice cream that were her breasts, her nipples sat centered. The analogy broke down somewhat because they looked more like halved small, dark red bananas than cherries. They curved almost that radically upward and were closer to that elongated shape.

Those heavy breasts on a small ribcage, ribs visible below and to the sides, were something like an impressive mountain range rising from sea level.

Her back actually curved forward to the lower back though her stomach was flat to the point of being indented below her lowest ribs. Her waist must have been in the area of 24 or 25 inches.

She jumped when Amgad reached toward her to find the zipper of her skirt but smiled and moved her hands out of his way when she realized what he was doing. The sound of it going down her backside was by far the loudest in the room, even covering my own breathing. She clenched her hands together between her breasts as it went downward to the rise of her bottom. That rise was on a par with the contrast of her breasts.

I think I was the one who gasped when her long skirt slid off her hips and dropped directly to the floor around her ankles.

I was the only one in the room who could see the white panties from behind. The waist in the center of her lower back might have been a triangle with two inch sides. The corners went over her hips in quarter inch strips of lace and down between the full cheeks of her ass with another that disappeared in the soft mounds well before it would have disappeared between her legs.

She turned slightly toward me and I saw the front dipped radically to another triangle, somewhat larger on a side and wider as it went down between her legs in front. Her labia were so full it looked almost as if she had a hardened cock inside the front of the panties instead of what I was sure was there.

Her legs were covered by paisley type patterned black stockings that clung around her thighs. Though perhaps a little fuller than mine, her thighs curved down nicely to her knees before her calves arched out in the best kind of feminine curve.

Mahmoud's impressive length bounded from the horizontal to a near 45 degree angle upward as he closed the small space between them and cupped her breasts with both hands. They didn't have a prayer of covering those mounds and the nipples hung out between his middle and index fingers. Her hands moved up to his forearms as he began squeezing gently.

"I've never done this," she said with a tremor in her voice. "No one has ..." Then she moaned and apparently abandoned whatever she'd been about to say.

Her left foot lifted off the floor and her calf rose up the other leg until it was mid thigh. She was clenching the conjunction of her legs together very tightly in this way.

Her head was forward as if she were watching what he was doing to her but I couldn't tell as long scarves of her hair fell from her shoulders on both sides and provided a veil over both breasts.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly in reaction to Mahmoud's movements. Her leg was going up and down the other now and I wondered how long it would be before she went off from the simple stimulation. "Oh!" she cried out, throwing her head back, as he leaned forward and took her left nipple in his lips though he hadn't moved his hand away.

Now I had an itch that wasn't responding well to my own moving leg.

I bit my lip painfully as I watched Amgad move behind her and slide his hands into the back of her panties, pulling them tight across her pussy and gaining him a kind of restrained load of her ass cheeks in both hands. She squirmed some more but was still standing on that one foot with her head back. She had nothing to worry about. I knew the guys wouldn't let her fall.

Mahmoud looked at me, sweat beading on his forehead when he moved back from her nipple, and asked permission to take her panties off in words that I easily recognized. I could only nod rather jerkily before Amgad spread his hands and pushed them down her legs. They stuck quite tenaciously between her labia, stretching considerably before being loosed with a little gasp from her as well as the guys.

"I think you're going to get laid, Nadia," I whispered into the silence. "Where?"

She sighed and shook her head, showing she didn't understand.

"In bed? On the couch? On the floor? Or right where you're standing?"

"I don't, ahhhh, ah care," she said. "But soon please." Knowing she'd answered my question but needed to communicate beyond me, she repeated it in Arabic. Mahmoud smiled and met her now downcast eyes. He said something and Amgad moved from his position close behind her to the side. She was forced to put her foot down in a step behind her as he gently pushed her back. But the table where I still sat, was close and she didn't have to take another step as he moved his hands off her breasts to her sides and lifted her the six inches onto the edge of the table.

She gasped in surprise and, perhaps, the coolness of the tabletop against her bare bottom and then let him lower her the rest of the way to her back. When her shoulders touched, leaving her breasts and beautiful face within inches of me, he returned his hands to the mounds of flesh and she arched them into his hands as her legs spread outside his hips.

He didn't slow his forward movement until the head of his cock made contact with the conjunction of her legs. Her mouth began to open as he effortlessly began sliding into her as did her eyes. He wasn't half inside her before her eyes were as widely opened as possible and her mouth in a large circle O.

By the way her body moved upward then, I could tell he'd come against an obstruction inside her and I knew for sure now that she was a virgin. But only for another few seconds because she was making no move to change what was happening or sound to discourage it. In fact, her spread legs now brought her black high heels to his ass cheeks, straining to pull him further in.

He moved one hand to her shoulder and lowered his mouth, widely opened, to her swollen breast. It covered the areola but didn't make a dent in covering the entire mound. She gasped in a high pitch as he obviously started flicking her long nipple inside that enclosure, arching her back up even further.

That's when he pushed forward more and her face turned into a grimace of pain. A quick scream escaped her and then slowly changed, her head going back further and her back arching even more radically as he pressed on past the obstruction that had been there. They both grunted as their pubic mounds came into contact.

Knowing from personal experience how long he was and what it felt like to have him inside and against your cervix, I salivated at the sight. In fact it raised me to my feet beside the table, looking down at her. She gasped when I leaned over and took her other breast into my mouth, her hand on the back of my head.

I wasn't overly surprised when I felt Amgad behind me, lifting my skirt in a motion and pulling my panties down to my knees. I not only didn't protest, I lifted one foot to allow him to take them off and spread my legs in hopes of accommodating him as soon as possible.

I wasn't disappointed. I almost lost my connection to the nipple between my lips and under my probing tongue as he plunged into my pussy roughly. I grabbed onto the edge of the table so he wouldn't push me too far away, sucked, and felt him slam into me again. It was actually so hard that it lifted my feet off the floor for a second. And that was just fine with me.

I came right then, feeling a strange apology that I'd done it before she had.

But, as I gasped with it, I heard her let out a steady stream of Arabic chatter even as her body went into wild versions of ecstatics.

I wasn't finished when Amgad slipped out of me and, intentionally or not, punched directly into my asshole. I screamed against the mound of flesh I was sucking hard now but it was a scream of passion and had nothing to do with pain. It felt wonderful!

I came again immediately and kept at that pinnacle for a long time.

Then he found my clit with his fingers.

Chapter 14

WE'D LAID THERE on the table like that for quite a while after everything had passed, only the sound of our collective breathing filling the room, when she whispered, "bed." I had no idea what she'd said or what she meant so I lifted my head and looked at her.

She had her eyes closed still and a huge, satisfied smile on her face.

"What?" I asked.

"Bed. I'd like to get laid in bed," she said and I remembered that had been my last question of her. I chuckled.

Actually, maybe she was suggesting the next venue and not the last. It still struck me funny and Mahmound looked at me as if I'd lost it. Then she repeated her statement in Arabic and Mahmoud's somber face broke into a grin as well. But Amgad was the one who really laughed outright.

The laughter had all sorts of positive effects but it had at least one negative one as Mahmoud pulled back and came out of her body. She let out a little startled cry and slapped her hand between her legs. Surprisingly, she pushed Mahmoud out of her way physically and ran for the bathroom. I knew what her problem was because I was having precisely the same problem but, more used to it, I worked to keep Amgad's come inside me with my sphincter muscle in spite of his shrinking plug there.

When he pulled free, it did serious damage to my efforts and I too had to put a hand over the orifice and trot for the bathroom. I hoped that Nadia could give me the toilet quickly. I was pleased to see her standing and washing her face as I rushed in. She ducked my advance, I sat down, and my ass began draining immediately in gurgles and bubbling noises.

She watched, smiled, and balanced on one foot with the other curled as she leaned in the doorway. Laying on her back, she was one of the most impressive women I'd ever seen. Even in men's magazines. But standing, she was spectacular. I couldn't believe that much mass could possibly have fine enough muscle tone to stand free of her chest the way it did. I really didn't think there was a half an inch of flesh touching flesh beneath them. And even the relatively unaroused nipples and areolas were still standing proudly from the top of the mounds. My still male psyche raged at the sight of her and got me completely aroused before I was done with what I was doing.

"You did say bed, didn't you?" I grinned.

"Uh huh. If, I mean, anyone wants to," she said, chewing on her lower lip fetchingly.

"Oh, I don't think there's any problem with that." We laughed and she squirmed a little.

I wiped and went to her, putting my arms around here and under hers. Hers went around my neck and pulled me into an open mouthed kiss that momentarily took my breath away. After my last several days, there was something wildly out of place in being almost totally dressed and kissing an almost naked woman.

"Is there, ah, anything I should do?" she asked, looking around the room as she broke the kiss.

"Yeah. Hang onto your hat, sweetie," I said and, again, she shook her head, unable to understand the colloquial phrase. "Just get ready, Nadia. You may get more than you expect."

"Oh, okay," she said briskly, smiling.

Leaving the bathroom, I glanced into the main room but I really didn't expect to see anyone there. I guided her toward the brightly sunlit bedroom and she smiled so broadly at the view, I couldn't believe it.

Both the guys lay on the big bed with their hard cocks in their hands, staring at us as we came into the room. From what I knew of Egyptian women and the little I knew of Nadia, I was really surprised when she let out a little squeal of excitement and literally jumped onto the bed.

"What do I do?" she said excitedly.

"Anything you want. The guys will be happy to help any way they can." I was sure of that statement.

"Give me suggestions!" she giggled.

"Okay. Have you ever been eaten out?"

"What's that?" she said, looking confused.

"Even if it's not called that, I'm pretty sure you'd know if it had been done." She just shrugged. "Okay. Get on all fours. Like a dog." She did it. "Now crawl over the top of Mahmoud with your pussy right over his mouth."

"You mean you want me to put this part ... ?" I nodded.

"He'll know what to do from there. Believe me."

"And he wants to do this?"

"You bet," I said, using another idiom I'm sure she didn't understand beyond the fact that it was positive.

Because his head was on the pillow near the wall, she got on all fours with her ass up toward the wall. She was blushing brightly and looking all around herself -- at Mahmoud and Amgad but particularly at me. She was grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of what she thought was going to happen and she couldn't imagine, I thought.

Even in this position, her breasts didn't seem to respond to the forces of gravity like normal flesh should. Of course they hung down but not nearly as much as I thought they should.

Mahmoud took over at that point as I thought he might. His arms went around her waist and pulled her down and back until his tongue could reach her pussy. I watched her eyes cross and her head go back as he pressed it inside her.

His hands went around the sides of her waist to move her up and down on his tongue. It took her less than five seconds to find this rhythm and to begin responding to it without his help. I could almost feel his breath on her sensitive virgin asshole as he stroked his tongue into her with his nose tight against it.

I cringed with vicarious pleasure as his tongue slipped from her pussy into her asshole. Her entire body spasmed at the feel of it and her attempt to get away from the escalating excitement she was feeling.

As if she were getting complacent with this particular attack on her senses, he moved her body slightly again and I knew from her scream and from her wild reaction that he slid down enough to take her clitoris into his mouth. For the first time, her breasts seemed to have some connection to the real world that is governed by physics and the laws of nature. As she swayed back and forth, they swayed opposite to the rest of her body.

She began making a wordless noise that sounded most like "Nyah!" over and over and over again. I kept waiting for her to truly go over the edge and, I'm sure, the guys were waiting as well. None of us could have anticipated what she did though.

Of course, I'm not sure what they expected. They knew she was going to climax or Mahmoud wasn't going to stop. But beyond that they couldn't have anticipated it at all. I'd expected her to have an orgasm and probably to cry out as she had before. Probably she would cry out in Arabic as I'd heard before and I wouldn't know what she'd said. I couldn't see how she was holding it back now.

Then she exploded. Just as if she'd held back too long and it had reached a point where it was out of control completely. She did all the things I thought she might. She screamed things in Arabic. Loud. Her body bowed forward, not lifting her clit from his mouth and bending almost double until the top of her head was almost touching his ribs.

Maybe he felt the rest coming because his fingers were white where they held onto her waist to keep her clit in his mouth. Her head still against his ribcage, she suddenly lifted both legs level with the bed, a foot from the bed's surface, and began doing something that looked as much like a frog swimming kick as anything. She spread her legs wide and straight with her toes splaying widely. Then she pulled her heels together, almost kicking him in the head. Then she straightened again. Then her legs snapped together and her feet and toes touched the wall above his head and pushed.

I thought she must have a really long clit for him to still be stimulating it with her legs so tightly together. Her ass quivered wildly before her legs again started spreading wide, her toes still pointed that way. Unbelievably, her head came up and her back arched until her body curved in a wide semi-circle. Her neck was tensed and her mouth a mask of agony, or what looked a lot like agony to me. And her entire body was balanced on his hands and lower arms, the elbows against the bed to hold her up. I think I might have seen something like that in the circus or possibly an acrobatics exhibition, but never before while having sex.

She started shaking her head slowly side to side and the longer it lasted and the more her legs vibrated with the orgasm, the faster she swung it until she was beating herself with her long hair.

I knew it couldn't last long, though I was proud of Mahmoud's ability to do it for as long as he had. He lowered her to his body and lifted his head to lick her broadly from pussy to asshole. She arched up now with her breasts pressed between his slightly spread legs as she spasmed.

I think if he hadn't stopped she might have gone on that way from the rest of the day. But he did stop and she spasmed down from the high until she was laying like a new baby over the top of him. I fully expected that he'd roll her to the side in a minute -- assuming he got up enough strength -- and she'd sleep away at least the next couple of hours.

Just as I thought it was about to happen, she suddenly popped back to life, lifting her head, getting her arms under her, and then getting her knees back to all fours. She was all smiles and looking from Amgad to me and back.

"That was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me!" she squealed. Our looks, I'm sure, were of relief. I knew that's what I felt most acutely.

It still took me by total surprise when she started turning around in place over Mahmoud.

"If that's that good, I can't wait to get fucked!" she squealed again. To make her desire real, she placed herself with a knee on either side of Mahmoud's waist, lifted up slightly, found his hard cock, and carefully guided it to her pussy. Her head went back and her mouth open as she moved back onto it until that unusual length was totally sheathed in her body. "Oh, yes!" she sighed with a huge smile over her shoulder.

I was sitting right beside her slowly moving bottom as she started moving upward and then downward, making a kissing look with her mouth. I couldn't stand not doing something as I looked at the foaming circle of white lubrication around her pussy and on the inside of her spread thighs. My fingers easily gathered the fluids and found her asshole.

She started spasming again as I sunk my fingers into her. But she was still fucking him. She really began spasming and saying things in Arabic again as he took her nipple into his mouth when it swung up in his direction.

Amgad gently pulled my fingers free and I looked at him for the first time in a while. For a fairly small guy, had a prodigious hard-on. He grinned and guided himself to her wide spread crack, watching what he was doing as he guided it to her tiny pucker. I watched it slowly disappear as Nadia started gasping loudly and moaning at the same time.

Finally he was completely inside her and she was pumping her center between the two cocks in her. Holding himself on one hand, he reached between Mahmoud and Nadia and found her clit. That was when her orgasms cascaded over into uncontrollable even though her body from waist to thighs rocked back and forward even faster. She seemed to be orgasming continuously as they found the pace and began fucking her in earnest.

When I was sure it was going to happen, I used my still moist fingers at the opening of Amgad's asshole and watched him begin moving in exactly the same way Nadia was. Their heads back, they looked like mirror images of each other.

Then he groaned loudly and slammed forward into her ass. I could almost feel the hot come filling my own ass as she screamed. Mahmoud seemed to be triggered by the feel of Amgad's climax and Nadia's reaction to it. It looked most like she was in pain from the hot fluid that now bubbled out of her and down her thighs.

As wild as it had been a moment before, it was suddenly still, their bodies freezing into the tableau as the orgasms passed.

"Hey guys?" I asked. "Anything left for me?"

The response was weak but all three of them turned their heads and smiled at me.

Chapter 15

MOHAMED AND THE other guys returned to the apartment late that night. We heard them come in and I gathered up enough energy to motion for Mahmoud to shut the bedroom door when he looked to me for guidance. I'd never noticed the key but grinned to myself when he clicked it into place.

We woke the next morning with full bladders and other parts that were near bursting. Ahmed was sitting on the couch and looked up at me when I skittered, naked, into the bathroom. He watched me trot back to the bedroom as well. I can only guess what he thought by the time all four of us had made the trip -- all in the nude. Mahmoud relocked the door and Nadia and I made sure the guys made as much noise as we did as we made passionate side-by-side love to the guys.

If that weren't enough, Nadia stood up on the top of the bed, backed up to the wall adjoining the living room, and had Mahmoud fuck her while she stood there crashing into the wall. Amgad did the same for me against the bedroom door, bounding my ass into the loose piece of wood.

It there was anyone in doubt of what was going on in the room, they must have been deaf, dumb (as in stupid), and blind (since the door and the wall both moved with our efforts).

We cleaned up a little -- as well as we could with only a partial roll of toilet paper -- and started looking for the sexiest clothes we could find. We all knew it was almost cruel, but we giggled as we did it anyway.

The guys helped a lot. They didn't care much about clothes matching shoes or any of the things I'd come to appreciate. But they had an unfailing eye to what was sexually exciting. We had to try on a lot of things before our final decisions were made. They were absolutely right with their choice for Nadia. That much I knew. And it couldn't have been simpler.

I'd gotten one white dress made of a tee-shirt-like material. About that weight and thickness anyway if a little more solid. What it did without any effort at all was absolutely mold to every tiny bump and depression on her body. Three quarter sleeves didn't go all the way to the shoulder and the top arched downward from her arms to the top edge of her areolas. The back, of course, was at the same height, leaving her shoulder blades and shoulders completely uncovered.

The shape of those swollen areolas and nipples was plain through the material even if the change in color wasn't enough already. It showed her taper to waist without flaw, even showing a little indentation where I knew her bellybutton was.

It exactly noted her relatively tiny waist, the rise of her bottom, and the shadow of the crack of her ass behind. In front, it was tight enough across her tummy that the dark pubic hair was visible through it as another kind of shadow.

The bottom of the skirt was two inches below the conjunction of her legs and, I knew with certainty, would allow an almost unobstructed view through and between her legs if she walked in front of a window.

Of course, the guys vetoed a bra or panties or stockings and were happy to help with her own shoes. They weren't really high enough for that dress but they had the distinct advantage of fitting her as mine didn't.

I was flattered when they chose the shortest shorts I've ever seen for me to wear and insisted that I try them on before we picked a top. The things clung tightly across my tummy and right at the top of my ass crack at least 4 inches below my natural waist. The legs were so short they very nearly met the waistband at the sides with a one inch cuff that only drew attention to them and where they were placed.

Amgad pointed out that the material of the shorts pulled tight between my labia, as if I didn't know it from the pressure on my clit, and even made them more blatantly swollen looking.

After trying on every possible top, they finally settled on a yellow silk body suit that, naturally, required me to snap it tight between my legs. Amgad was happy to help with that. I could see my much lighter areolas through the thin material and my nipples didn't even require a mirror to see lifting the material high. They might not have been much competition for Nadia's large breasts and larger nipples, but they attracted a lot of attention anyway.

I didn't remember buying a pair of yellow high heels but they found those and put them on for me.

Since we were all dressed, that's when the guys decided that what we really needed was to have our toenails and fingernails painted. I don't know if you've had a manicure but however sensual an experience that may be, and I suspect it's normally fairly sensual, there's something special about a naked guy painting your fingernails on the back of his thigh or toenails as the bottom of your foot rests against his swollen cock.

It seemed to do something for Amgad, in my case, since the alternatives following the painting were to get undressed again or relieve some pressure in some other way. I chose another way and soon had a wonderful mouthful of his come. Nadia chose a different way, that helped speed my mouthful, by pulling her skirt up high enough that Mahmoud could enter her from behind unimpeded as she leaned over the bed beside me.

Nadia and I traded off brushing the other's hair, and chosing and approving simple makeup. When we were done, we looked magnificent, even if I do have to say so myself. In fact, I didn't, of course. The other three were ample in their praise and we were with praise for Nadia. She was pretty scared of actually appearing outside a bedroom dressed as she was.

We found some shorts and tee-shirts for the guys and they put their loose sandals back on to join us going into the other rooms of the apartment.

Even though it had taken us a long time to get ready and since there'd been more than soft sounds from the bedroom, all three of the other guys were in the living room waiting for us. I was pleased with Mohamed, then the other two, when they apologised for what they'd done the day before.Thanks to Nadia, I understood when they pledged that I could go anywhere I wanted, anytime and with whoever I wanted. They said they just hoped I would return and that I would forgive them.

I kissed each of them lightly and thanked them. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy on them. Through Nadia again, I told them that I'd consider returning things to a semblance of what they had been before when I felt they'd made it up to me in the apartment and when I'd seen them walk around the block in the nude. Nadia chuckled a lot at the idea of that. None of them liked the idea of walking around the block but I knew that was going to be the easy part in comparison to what they were going to be doing around the apartment for the next couple of days.