A Cheeky Lad

Ali's mother, Umm-Arq, came from the deep south of Arabia and had married one of the richest merchants in the capital. Today we would say she was sold to him, because the merchant was conservative, extremely conservative. He had Arq, who was only called Umm-Arq when she became a mother, carefully chosen. She had to be beautiful, a virgin of course and a deeply religious Muslim from a good family, if possible of good blood. After a long time she was presented to the twice widower, who immediately fell in love with 17-year-old Arq. He married her on the spot.

Umm-Arq was 18 years old when she gave birth to Ali. His father was overjoyed; he now had a heir and no longer "just" daughters, of which he already had three from previous marriages. He was very conservative and never left her unattended; that was one of the important conservative pillars in his culture. Unfortunately, Arq would not have any more children, the gynecologists said unanimously. She had Ali, and that was all that mattered.

She came from an old, impoverished noble family and of course had never attended school. Her husband fulfilled her request and had a teacher come to the house. Six servants sat behind her when the teacher came to the house. He was not even allowed to touch the hem of her veil. So she learned to read, write, count and the entire Koran, of which she only knew a few common sayings by heart. Her husband, who loved her and Ali more than anything, gave her an iPhone to finish her education. Of course, he kept a close eye on who she had contact with — definitely not men! And also what she browsed up on the Internet.

If he had followed her tracks more closely, he would have discovered that her friends had told her about many tricks on how to do things with the iPhone. She had long correspondence with young men, made them fall in love with her and also sent them lots of daring nude photos and masturbation video clips. Of course, she was naturally shy and timid, but she soon had a lot of bad habits. But she never went so far as to reveal her real existence or even meet one of her admirers in person. Her new girlfriends had shown her how to take the best photos of herself or how to film herself masturbating. Most of the men wanted to see her masturbate or see close-ups of her clit. She overcame the initial hurdles and got to see hundreds of cocks, stiff and spurting, of course. But over time she had enough of it, digital affairs were much more fun and exciting. She remained a locked-up princess who could only talk and flirt with her princes from near and far through the closed prison door. She was clear that she was not allowed to betray or even God forbid abandon her master.

But she also used her phone to look at the world, the people and their history. She quickly found out that many women of that time did not take the vow of fidelity seriously, that many of them had affairs, lovers or one-night-stands. Umm-Arq had only had three things on her mind up to now. First, Ali, her everything. Second, the colorful world outside the walls of her big house and the capital Riyadh and the friends and admirers with whom she had secret, purely digital affairs. And third, her strong-loined slaves. Of course, these were officially domestic servants, since slavery had been abolished under pressure from the West. A dozen female servants and a dozen male servants lived in her household. Her husband was often away on business and often left her alone. The only thing she officially had to combat her carnal desires was intense, passionate masturbation.

She felt very neglected, although she knew full well that her husband had to work hard to keep his fortune together and increase it. But after a while she also knew that he was no longer faithful to her, that he had several love affairs one after the other and that he never slept alone on his travels. For weeks she was sick with hurt, but then she thought about revenge. The fact that all this was completely normal in the ambiguous morality of her world prevented her from developing any hard feelings of revenge.

Instead she decided not to spend her nights alone any more than her husband. She chose a slave she liked. Among her dozen slaves there was always one she liked — the fact that they were all black did not bother her at all. She loved the preparation for adultery very much. The weeks of teasing and teasing her chosen man were a very exciting time. The telephone lines were buzzing when she consulted with her girfriends.

Ali also grew up in a very sheltered environment, but he was not locked up like his mother. Of course he had a tutor and he was actually a very bright and clever boy. He had a lot of friends with whom he got up to a lot of mischief, but Umm-Arq forgave him for any nonsense, of course. He had long since reached the critical age where they did more than just pull the girls' pigtails.

Ali could ask his mother anything. She was the only person he could trust, and of course he used the time they spent on the roof after siesta to tell her about the girls' confusing bodies and behavior. Umm-Arq herself had grown up "well-sheltered," and of course she had no experience with boys. Well, maybe a little. She had found it pretty disgusting and at the same time exciting that a boy's cock could squirt. At first she only watched when a boy let her watch him rub himself. Then she wanted to do it herself and the boys let her rub himself. But that was the only sinful thing she experienced as a young girl and teenager.

And now Ali was at exactly the age where he discovered the opposite sex. Every day they spent the siesta, the rahat, in the airy shade-tent on the roof. Umm-Arq had brought this custom with her from her homeland. She lay on a soft surface, wrapped in a veil, masturbated and then slept soundly for an hour or two. Ali was with her, of course, he had long since stopped paying attention to his mother's wiggling, he much preferred playing on her smartphone during the siesta. He grew and grew and he looked under Umm-Arq's veil at every opportunity. No matter how modestly she moved, he always caught a glimpse of her bare thighs, of the thicket of her black pubic hair. The girls whose skirts he and his friends lifted and pulled down their underwear to their knees in a flash only had an insignificant slit, but no hair or at most a soft down. They weren't real women yet, no! said the teenagers disparagingly.

When Umm-Arq masturbated, he watched now with great interest, although he hid his eyes. He didn't know why, but it was something his mother did for herself and didn't let him take part in it. That was very clear from the start. Of course Umm-Arq didn't do it openly, she always masturbated under the veils, of course.

But Ali always managed to take a look under the veil. When she leaned back in the final stretch and squinted, he could lift the veil up an inch and see everything. He noticed that she was rubbing just one specific spot at the top of her slit until her abdomen twitched, wobbled and she then only trembled slightly. He always looked away when she came awake and clear again afterwards, so that she wouldn't find out that he had been spying.

He leaned against Umm-Arq. She was sleeping and he was playing awkwardly with his cock. He wanted to put it in her fuck hole, but he didn't know how. She woke up and smiled when he unsuccessfully stuck his cock into the crack of her ass, no, that won't work! She took his hard cock very gently in her hand. "Are you trying to cum, Ali?" she asked in a whisper. He had no idea, but he nodded. "I don't know how," he breathed. He suspected that it was something important, but he was too cowardly to ask. Umm-Arq sighed and started talking to him about sex, explaining the simple things to him simply and the complicated things complicatedly. She threw back her veil when she noticed that he couldn't imagine the female genitals at all. No, she didn't want to get bogged down in theoretical explanations. She showed him everything, explained everything two or three times and let him feel with his index finger.

Now she saw that he understood. And she took his cock in her hand and rubbed it to show him how a man ejaculates and what the semen looked like that the man was supposed to ejaculate into the woman's fuck hole. He was allowed to put his index finger into the hole. "And then — that's where I came out, as a baby?" he asked, stunned. Umm-Arq laughed. "I thought too it was impossible at the time, but the midwives laughed at me. Millions of children are born exactly like that, so don't make a fuss, Arq!"

Ali had knelt in front of her, he had put his index finger into her fuck hole and now he pushed his stiff cock forward. A moment later the cock had disappeared deep into Umm-Arq's fuck hole. She couldn't help but sigh. A moment later, Ali had to squirt without having fucked. She immediately pulled his cock out again, frowning. "Yes," she confirmed, "that's how fucking works between a man and a woman." She didn't know how to explain to him that she wasn't allowed to let him fuck her until he was 14; she had discussed it with her husband. She was very surprised, but he was of the opinion that a boy of 14 either had a fiancée to fuck or his mother. It's not acceptable for the boy to get into the bad habit of rubbing his cock, said his father, that would be disgusting. Umm-Arq nodded, because he was the master and ruler.

"I'm not allowed to let you fuck until you're 14," she said to Ali, "your father decided that." She didn't really need to say anything more; he also knew that his father was the master and no one else. He couldn't be contradicted. Not even Ali. There have been enough examples of how an heir to the throne has fallen into ruin overnight.

That day, Ali's endless interest in sex, in women and girls, was awakened. He said to Umm-Arq that of course he was sorry that he had squirted into her fuck hole without asking her. But now he knew how great it was to squirt inside the fuck hole. She smiled kindly, "It's fine! But leave the servants alone in any case, they're not there to fuck!" She thought of the many pretty young girls she had had to throw out because they had become pregnant. No, she didn't ask them, she didn't even want to know who they had fucked.

The evening routine changed only a little. As usual, she lay next to Ali in the evening until he fell asleep and came back early in the morning to wake up next to him. In between, she went two rooms away and let her current favorite servant really fuck her, she liked that very much, being firmly fucked. But that was not what she could or wanted to share with Ali. Now she lay next to Ali in the evenings, caressing his inner thighs and his balls and watching him cum again and again. That multiple squirting, she believed, was important to strengthen his virility. At least that's what she thought at the time and found it natural and right. She didn't care how long her lover had to wait two rooms away, Ali was her everything.

The siesta also changed. Ali pressed his body against hers to experience her increasing excitement and her trembling and wriggling in orgasm up close. She always slept very deeply afterwards, for an hour or two. He waited a little before he started to masturbate. She let his toes spread her legs and he masturbated, his eyes fixed on her pussy. She didn't care, she told him later, because back then he told her everything, "as long as you don't wake me up!" He was satisfied with that for a long time, staring at her pussy was enough of a sexual thrill for him.

Ali began to spy. He watched how her father fucked Umm-Arq. It was very arduous, the old man was already approaching 70 and Umm-Arq was only 30. She was not very aroused, Ali saw that, she did not let herself be fucked passionately. Ali found that astonishing, because when Umm-Arq let a slave fuck her hard, she went mad with lust and desire, even though she did not have an orgasm herself. She could only have orgasms during the siesta on the roof. Ali stayed attentive because he was fascinated by her orgasms.

She was sometimes completely beside herself when a slave fucked her particularly well. She screamed with lust and drove him on like a donkey so that he went deeper, faster, more brutally. She never dared to do that with her husband, Ali realized. Although she didn't have an orgasm like she did during the midday siesta, she purred like a contented kitten when the slave did his job well.

She felt good when her child leaned against her, hugged her and cuddled her. Ali loved his mother more than anything, he held a hand on her butt cheek when she masturbated or later when she was fast asleep. She got used to him leaving his hand on her butt cheek when he masturbated and his hand wiggling on her butt cheek when he masturbated. He squirted over her butt cheek in long, white stripes and she smiled in her sleep when he wiped the mess off with a tissue. He confessed it to her in a whisper afterwards, but she waved him off. "As long as you don't wake me up," was her standard answer. He found it very pleasant to press his glans against her butt cheek at the moment of squirting. Her skin was so soft and it was so exciting to squirt on it!

He turned the sleeping woman onto her stomach more and more often and pressed the tip of his cock into the crease of her ass. Wow, that was great! And he saw his semen running down the crease of her ass and over her slit. She sighed and smiled when he gently wiped it away. His heart pounded as he let his cock ejaculate deeper and deeper, the tip of his cock was now pointing directly at her slit and he ejaculated onto her slit, moaning with happiness. She was still asleep and smiled in her sleep when he wiped his semen from her thick labia and slit. For a long time, ejaculating over her slit was the most wonderful moment of the day.

But when she was lying on her stomach, she stretched her ass out, heaven knows what she was dreaming about! But he saw more and more often how her slit opened slightly when she was dreaming, as she usually only did when she masturbated under the veil. He dared to place the tip of his cock on it, but did not press it inside. She should definitely not wake up! He could feel with the tip of his cock whether she was having a defensive dream and was involuntarily squeezing the slit, or whether she was having a pleasant, enjoyable or even sexually colored dream, because then the slit was soft and slightly open.

He could hold the tip of his cock on the slightly open slit and squirt into it. He cleaned her when the juice flowed out again. Over the course of weeks he had developed a good sense of how she reacted to his touches without waking up. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning that he only had to be gentle and careful, then he could gently press the tip of his cock in her slit hole without pressing hard and squirt in. He refined this for weeks, he gained self-confidence and practice. He trained for weeks to penetrate her slit hole.

At first he was overly cautious and he paid attention to her sighs because her body noticed his gradual penetration. That's how he found out that he could put his little cock all the way in without waking her. That he could slide in and out very gently and slowly without her waking up. And if he just slid in and out with the utmost care for long enough, then he could squirt in her hole without her waking up.

Over the weeks he refined his technique. Umm-Arq slept deeply for an hour or two, enough time to slide into her fuck hole and squirt twice in a row. He cleaned her of the mess because he wanted to avoid tormenting questions. Of course he kept asking if he could fuck her already, but she put him off, saying only when he was 14, that was what his father had decided. Nevertheless, he sometimes fucked her when she had just woken up, always knowing that she would point out that he was not yet 14. But she let him do it with a friendly smile, because she felt sorry for him how much his carnal desires were plaguing him.

Now he went further, he fucked her in her deep sleep. Sometimes she would half wake up and smile, "You are not yet 14," she would murmur, but she let him do it sleepily. Over the course of the weeks, he fucked her every time he wanted to squirt a second time. The second time, it was not enough to slide in and out gently like the first time. So it came to be that he fucked her almost every day before his 14th birthday.

Ali whispered to his mother when he had fucked a servant, a slave. His mother shook her head, his father would certainly not have allowed that because he was still much too young. It confused her to feel a pang of jealousy when he confessed to her that he had fucked a slave. Of course, everyone knew that Ali was the crown prince and the next master and lord, so they did not reject him. Girls who became pregnant had to leave. But Ali insisted that Umm-Arq should give the girl a rich gift if he had fucked her and was perhaps the father of her child.

Umm-Arq was completely confused when she unexpectedly became pregnant. It could be a slave's child, but it could also be Ali's. So she was thankful to heaven, all fetuses were aborted before they could grow inside her. It was true that the gynecologists had said that she could not have any more children. Over time, she no longer panicked, she knew that the child would not stay inside her.

Ali's father had three sisters, they came to visit for a few days every year and Umm-Arq had only one problem with these visits. The sister or sister-in-law lay down with them during the siesta. So Umm-Arq could not masturbate freely as she was used to. She had to do it in secret or postpone it until the afternoon, which made her uncomfortable because she was a young woman and needed it urgently every day after lunchtime. Ali quickly understood this and whenever possible he distracted his aunt as best he could so that the mother could masturbate secretly under her veil.

Aunt Fatme was the oldest of the sisters, she had been widowed for a long time and now her son Hassan had married and was no longer lying with her. She looked at Ali with benevolence. "Ah, you're not 14 yet, so you're not lying with your mother yet," she said and examined his cock, the old Cheshire Cat. She was a rather fat, plump person and liked to let her veil fly, because that gave Ali an erection. She took his cock in her hand, completely unashamedly, to examine it, as the three of them were lying on the roof taking a siesta. "Umm-Arq, you're missing out on a lot," she teased her sister-in-law, because she knew, of course, that he wouldn't be 14 for another year and that her brother had to let him only then.

Fatme asked him in a loud whisper whether he already knew how to fuck. He nodded, astonished, "Yes, Aunt Fatme!" She grinned from ear to ear and flashed her false teeth. "And... tell me, are you already fucking the cute girls?" she asked him with a lurking grin. "Yes, Aunt Fatme, but Mom doesn't like it!" Fatme nudged Umm-Arq in the butt with her elbow. "So let him have his fun, Hamid doesn't have to know!" Ali blushed all over, because nobody dared to call his father by his first name. "Well, come a little closer, you little stud!" whispered Fatme and turned to the side. She pulled the veil higher so that her fat ass was visible. She took his hand and put it on her butt cheek. "Just imagine that I was one of the sweet, willing girls. Go for it, I don't bite, but you can! Of course not bite, you know!" Of course Ali knew what Fatme expected.

He cast a sideways glance at his mother, saw her glassy eyes and knew that she was no longer listening to what he and Fatme were discussing. "If you were one of the girls, Aunt Fatme," he said quietly. "I would pound her until she saw the stars!" Fatme nodded lazily. "So, let me see the stars!" and her hand pushed her ass cheek to the side. Her pussy and her hole were completely black, like a black woman's. And above her slit was a thick thicket of curly black hair. But the pussy itself was hairless, perhaps she plucked the hair out.

Ali turned to her, let his cock slide over her ass and slowly penetrated. Somehow it was completely different. The secret, the secrecy, the forbidden was missing. It only irritated him for a moment, then his cock had reached her labia and he carefully slid into the soft hole. Fatme turned her head and smiled invitingly at him. Her nephew penetrated from behind, in front she saw Umm-Arq's veil shaking. She despised her sister-in-law, who masturbated in the bright sunlight during the siesta. She masturbated only at night and rarely, secretly in the dark, because female masturbation was frowned upon in her conservative, backward culture.

Ali knew how annoyed his mother was that he was fucking all three aunts. But he didn't let any opportunity pass. He didn't care about his aunt herself, nothing about her was attractive. Except for one thing. But he really didn't care if and what kind of character was hidden behind the fuck hole. He was a little proud, because none of his playmates fucked a grown woman, they only fucked young slaves or little playmates if they came from the lower class. In the lower class, an intact hymen was not important like in the upper class. But Ali was a daredevil of a guy, he fucked grown women when they came to visit.

Fatme grunted contentedly as soon as Ali squirted inside. She had dreamed about Hassan, who also had a small, pointed cock back then and had to fuck three or four times until his balls were empty. But now she was wide awake. Hassan was no longer there, he had married a horse-faced Englishwoman and lived with her for half the year, in faraway England. Fatme had never been to England, she had never left the kingdom. But she and her husband had been away all year round and she had been fucked by many, many Arabs on these trips. She did not believe that her husband knew about it, at least he had never made a hint or a comment. Unfortunately he had had an accident when Hassan was 12 and she had cried for a long time for the good man.

Aunt Yasmin was the middle of the three sisters. She was married and had to look after her reputation. But she, like her sisters, could not resist the temptation, although unlike Fatme she tried very hard to rarely cheat on her husband. She already felt guilty enough because she masturbated every night before going to sleep and that was something that you kept quiet, kept secret and hidden, even from the dearest husband in the world. She was as thin as a bone and still childless, and she was five years younger than the 40-year-old Fatme. During the siesta, she moved away from Umm-Arq, who was doing the forbidden thing. She hugged her nephew and interrogated him. She was a little disgusted that Fatme let herself be fucked from behind like a bitch; that would never be an option for her. There was only one decent position, face to face. She was a human, not a bitch, and not an ape either. For a while, she had to whisper to Ali about fucking and dirty things, tightly wrapped around her. She could tell him lots of dirty things, or listened breathlessly to him when he described gang-fucking a girl in great detail. Of course, she told him how, when, and with which magnificent cock she cheated on her unsuspecting husband. But that wasn't bad, she said, it was always just something physical, nothing else. They started to fuck when the heat rose in her lap. She let him lie on top of her, but she only uncovered a tiny patch of pussy, the rest remained hidden under the veil. Ali lay down between her thighs and his cock found its way in.

Yasmin cried with shame every time she let Ali fuck her, because it was truly a disgrace that she was cheating on her husband. The desire to have children, and motherhood, plagued her greatly. She was already 35 and desperately wanted a child. That was one of the most important reasons why she let Ali fuck her two or three times during the siesta. She always wanted to be a faithful wife, but now it was high time for her to get pregnant. "Just squirt really hard, my little one," she whispered tearfully into Ali's ear, "squirt really hard and please make me a child!" Ali understood more or less, but he didn't know what he could do to make her have a child. Squirt inside, yes, he could, very much, but he wasn't quite sure about the child thing. Didn't you have to be married to have a child!? Much later, he asked his mother and she said no. You got pregnant whether you were married or not, married to each other or to someone else. It was one of those secrets that the Almighty never gave away and decided according to his will whether a woman conceived a child or not. The only thing that the believers were allowed to know was that you could only get pregnant through sex. Otherwise the Almighty wouldn't let you see his cards. Ali nodded, so it was in Allah's hands whether Yasmin had a child. He added his own, he told his mother, he fucked Aunt Yasmin as often as he could. She nodded, "I know, I know. You fuck her well and reliably, you can't do more than that."

Aunt Leila was the youngest of his father's sisters, who was already well over 60 and was from a previous marriage. Leila had only been married for a few years and wanted to conceive a child from the hand of the Almighty as soon as possible. If she told the truth, she had never cheated on her husband, only with Ali. And that was only because her sisters did it. She was younger than Umm-Raq, only 28. Ali could not get her to reveal whether she masturbated at night like her sisters. Masturbating was disgusting, she replied, decent, God-fearing women never did it. Yes, of course she was both decent and God-fearing, but she still did not let her secret slip. Like Aunt Fatme, she preferred to be fucked from behind; she did not want to look Ali in the eye. But when she was expecting to ovulate, he had to fuck her face to face, like Yasmin. She justified it by saying that she wanted to conceive her child in facing her lover. She was very insecure and asked Umm-Arq for permission every time she wanted to be fucked by Ali during the siesta for the second or third time. Umm-Raq always looked at her haughtily and contemptuously. What about chaste and shy, keeping the vow of fidelity! But she nodded graciously. "Don't ride the boy to shame, you greedy piece of shit!" Ali's mother would add jokingly.

Ali's social status in his age group was firmly established. He was the king, he regularly fucked three married, adult women. He could prove it, he had secretly taken photos or video clips, but he didn't pass them on to anyone. He was the first when it came to gang-fucking. The guys would surround a girl from the lower class, who would then be fucked by the whole pack. The girls didn't see it as rape, it was more of an honor. Their social status also rose, they had to have something about her that the boys saw in her when the horde pounced on her. For some reason the pack didn't touch a virgin, they didn't dare, they didn't want to. Deflowering was a family matter, they either had to do it themselves or entrust it to a teenager. That was the way it was and it stayed that way. Ali only went along with it to consolidate his position, in itself fucking such young, still undeveloped girls was not fun in a sexual sense.

Ali enjoyed fucking Leila the most. Her shy, innocent manner and her guilty look ignited a fire in his heart that he had never experienced before. No, he was not in love with the grown-up girl, she was married and far, far away, unattainable. But she wanted to have a child, she had spoken openly about it with Umm-Arq. Her husband was hardworking, kind-hearted and loyal, but Leila suspected that he was just firing blanks. She had asked him to have a urological examination, but he was not willing to do that. She just had to be patient, the Almighty knew what he was doing! He was the master of life and death and it would be presumptuous to try to interfere with his work. Leila thought she only helped the Almighty and met him when she let friends and strangers and Ali fuck and mate with her. Her gynecologist had confirmed that it was not her fault.

Umm-Arq was no longer so strict about fucking since her sisters-in-law had gone after Ali. Now she let Ali fuck her every day during the siesta, but only from behind while she masturbated passionately. She would only fuck him face to face when he was 14, not before then. Ali was fine with it, fucking was much better than masturbating. And from behind it was also a lot of fun, he held her ass cheeks in his hand and spread them as he pleased. It was funny how her asshole twitched when she masturbated, it was really very funny. And when she climaxed, her asshole cramped up as if it wanted to strangle something.

Leila was pregnant, thank God! She came to siesta very often now, she wanted to let Ali fuck her as often as he could. Both she and his mother were sure that he was the father. At the same time, they left officially no doubt that it was her weak husband. Ali was depressed about this. He had done his best to give Leila a child, and now it was her pale, weak-loined husband who had managed the feat. Umm-Arq held back because she disagreed. She had become pregnant by Ali so many times that she was sure that he had also successfully impregnated Leila. But doubting the official version was strictly forbidden. Yasmin also seemed to have a suspicion because she also came more often than before to lie down with the two of them during the siesta and let Ali fuck her.

Ali's best friend, Jamal, was a good five years older than him and had a fiancée, Rika, whom he wanted to marry soon. Jamal and Rika belonged to the lower class and their friendship only began when Ali was ready to have conversation with Jamal. Sounds stupid, and it was stupid. But that's how it was. The two had known each other for a long time and Ali experienced the love between Jamal and Rika from day one. As a young girl, Rika had been targeted several times by a horde and was highly regarded among the girls because she was repeatedly fucked by a pack. Jamal fell in love with the girl with the high social score and they were soon inseparable. Ali, who was now almost 15, promised Jamal that he would help him organize a big, colorful wedding. Rika liked Ali very much too and one day she asked Jamal if Ali could lie with them? Jamal, a good-natured 19-year-old, agreed immediately. So it came about that Ali was allowed to lie with the two of them on many afternoons. That was definitely much more exciting than wandering around with the pack of younger guys who were always looking for a defenseless girl. In any case, lying down with Jamal and Rika was much more grown-up.

It was clear to Ali from the beginning that Jamal would be a good, hardworking and loyal husband. He wasn't so sure about Rika. She had fire, bees and a whole beehive in her ass, that much was certain. On the other hand, he understood that she was primarily concerned with her own orgasm, and she only got that when both boys fucked her in quick succession without giving her fuck hole a break. Jamal was fine with it, he knew that. And Ali loved Rika's beautiful, natural body and her wonderful way of fucking. Somehow, he couldn't have said how, but somehow she fucked completely differently than his aunts or even his mother. Perhaps the word graceful would have described it best. Rika fucked gracefully, gradually came to the hill and ran gracefully upwards to gracefully orgasm at the top. Yes, that described it well.

Ali asked for money for the first time. His father nodded slowly and let him sit down, then clapped his hands and ordered tea. The 15-year-old and the 69-year-old had a long conversation. Ali explained that his best friend Jamal wanted to get married next spring. His father only knew Jamal's family superficially, but he nodded. Jamal had a little savings, but his dream was to open his own workshop and manufacture his goods mainly for foreign countries, objects made of copper sheet, because Jamal had already been working for a master for four years. These pots, tea and coffee sets and plates for meat and fruit were selling like hot cakes in the Middle East, there was a very high demand. The father had his hands folded in front of his face and listened with his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping, he was listening. Listening carefully.

Finally he nodded. Lending or giving his friend money for the long term, the equivalent of a car, was a good thing. "But," he objected, "as a businessman you have to think differently than as a friend. Become a silent partner and give him money for two cars, and you can have as much as you want. But as a silent partner you give your friend the security of a larger fortune to protect him, and in return he pays you a share of his profits." Ali thought hard. His father was one of the best merchants in the capital, and that was certainly not by chance. Was there anything against it? "No," said his father, "let your Jamal work and sell, as a silent partner you only get a share of the profits. That is a good, clean business model that will give your friend a good start. You are only a financier and do not interfere in his business. His business, you have to make that clear to Jamal, it is HIS business. And if it helps you, tell him my name, Jamal will know it."

The father poured more tea. "There is, of course, a small problem. You are only 15 and therefore not yet fully capable of doing business. A person you trust must serve as a front man, then it will work." The father sipped the hot tea. Ali understood what the father meant. "I will ask Umm-Arq if she can be the front man, father," said Ali. The father nodded and smiled. "Good idea, Ali. I am looking forward to training you as a businessman starting next year, after all, you will inherit my business one day." Ali nodded with shaking knees. "Yes, father, I know, mother keeps saying it and I am really working hard at college — I am top of the class and will graduate top next year, I can promise you that, father."

So it happened, Ali brought his mother and Jamal together, he had spent the whole night working with one of his father's employees on a contract that suited both sides and that could be presented to the judge kadi. Jamal, Rika and Umm-Arq listened attentively as Ali read and explained the contract to them. Umm-Arq had involuntarily taken Jamal's hand when Ali read it. When he had finished, there was a long silence. Umm-Arq looked into Jamal's eyes, not for the first time. "Shall we seal the contract?" she asked cooing and stood up, leading Jamal by the hand into the bedroom. Ali and Rikka stayed behind and listened, moved. Umm-Arq pushed the veil aside a little, exposing only her pussy. "Ali told me a lot about Rika and you and the fucking you had together." She didn't need to say anything more, Jamal lay between her thighs and penetrated her gently. Umm-Arq sighed and closed her eyes, she was as excited as ever when Ali accompanied her to her dates in the rental car and waited patiently in the hall or next to the bed while she let her lover fuck her hard. It was part of their agreement that Ali was allowed to sit by and watch Umm-Arq let her lover fuck her to orgasm.

Jamal had tears in his eyes, he had only mentioned his dream of being an independent workshop manager and owner once, many months ago, and now Ali shows up with a complete solution. He could now ask the master to leave with a clear conscience, even if they would then become competitors. Rika listened quietly in the background, but she rewarded Ali with the best fuck of the decade. She and Jamal would not start their lives as poor underdogs, but as craftsmen, as small businessmen. Ali understood her tears after her orgasm very well.

His father had hesitated after the conversation, he wanted to know something else. He wanted to know, in a roundabout and very indirect way, whether Ali was sleeping with Umm-Arq, he was already 15 after all. Ali was surprised that his father even asked, because they never talked about sex. He swallowed and straightened his backbone to give himself courage. "Yes, for over a year now, father. She's teaching me everything a young man needs to know." His father nodded. "That was agreed between me and your mother. Is it a good solution for you?"

Ali felt that he was becoming more relaxed. "Yes, father, it is an old and traditional custom that not many people practice anymore, but I know your heart and I know how important it is for you to uphold the old customs. You use computers in your business and a smartphone like everyone else. So no one should say that you're an old fart, father. Tradition and progress must go together, they are not opposites." His father looked up in surprise. "It's amazing to hear that from the mouth of a 15-year-old, indeed." The father was not finished. "Yes," Ali answered truthfully, "I have already mounted all the maids several times, father, but not a single one forced. I have seduced each of them and learned to seduce girls until they open their thighs willingly and happily. I should learn, learn through variety, says Umm-Arq. I follow her advice because she is a very clever and smart mother." The father nodded contentedly and proudly, this son was by no means a wimp.

The father was not finished. He thought for a long time about how best to approach the delicate subject. "I have three younger sisters, half-sisters. Two of them recently had a baby, adorable little angels. I noticed that the two little angels look most like you, they have your light skin and your characterful nose. What a coincidence!" The father sipped his tea, the delicate subject had been addressed. Ali said nothing, he just slumped a few centimeters, which his father did not miss. Ali felt that he could no longer remain silent.

"Aunt Fatme touched me when I was just about 13." He didn't want to say too much, really not. His father relaxed visibly. "And you touched Fatme, or am I mistaken?" Ali shook his head, his father was keen to know. "Yes, father. You certainly know Fatme better than I do. You know that once she has taken a bite of the cake, she doesn't leave it half-eaten. Her character doesn't allow that!" His father nodded to his teacup and said, "When Hassan went to England, she was completely alone. I understand that she was looking for someone to fuck." Ali was surprised at his father's clear words, that was unusual. Really unusual.

Ali said that he had no problem with Fatme's behavior. He had understood her from the beginning, it was the carnal desires that seemed unbearable. Fatme had handled the whole thing so casually that he was not overwhelmed by the events. Does father see it differently?" he asked cautiously. His father laughed. "Fatme has never submitted to or accepted my views. She got her husband into her head and it didn't help that I warned her about his character. On the contrary, she adapted to his and became a sex-mad whore, to sum it up very briefly. Fatme's behavior doesn't surprise me at all, I just wanted to know whether it had caused you any harm. After all, she catapulted you into adult life before your time, even though you were still half a child, 13." The father sipped the hot tea. "But the other two? Yasmin and Leila?" He looked over the rim of his cup at Ali.

The latter lowered his head. Good advice was expensive and necessary. But it was easiest if he didn't invent anything new. He looked openly at his father. "I don't know how accurate my thoughts are. I think Yasmin and Leila saw from Fatme's example that there was something to be gained in our house. On previous visits they simply rushed through and hardly noticed me. That changed because Fatme had rushed ahead of them. They also wanted a piece of the cake, or at least that's what I thought at the beginning. Over time it became clear that Leila wanted a child, she wanted motherhood more than her unblemished honor.

She spoke to Umm-Arq about it, of course. I took mother's reaction very seriously. My mother said, "You are convinced that your husband is shooting blanks and he doesn't want to be tested, which is unfortunate. But it is certainly better if you don't slip up and fuck anyone and everyone just to get someone. It is better if you take Ali, he is an extraordinary boy." That was the decisive factor. I went along with it, I was very happy to go along with it. I was not an idiot to pass up such an opportunity. I don't think it was wrong, otherwise I wouldn't have gone along with it, father."

The father shook his head. "And you are the biological father?" Ali answered immediately. "Leila claimed that she had not had any contact with anyone other than me during that time. Yes, I am convinced." The father nodded. "Leila is not such a lying slut as Fatme. If she says so, then I believe her." He looked questioningly at Ali. "And? Yasmin?" Ali knew what he had to say. "I don't know whether Yasmin had other lovers or not, I never asked her. I think there were two phases. The first phase was purely for pleasure, she was only interested in sexual pleasure. Her childlessness played no role at that time. The second phase was when Leila became pregnant. Yasmin suddenly saw the opportunity to become a mother herself. She came almost every day, so that my mother became a little annoyed. But Yasmin remained stubborn, she let me mate with her every day and also became pregnant. Maybe I am the father of her child, but I don't know for sure and I don't ask her. The joy of motherhood had a very positive effect on both of them, that was enough for me. And since then they haven't come for a siesta anymore." Ali looked at his father. Was that enough? Or did her brother want to know more?

Yes, the brother did. "I was already one foot out of the house and only knew the sisters very superficially. Would you describe to me how and how different my half-sisters are? Sexually, I mean." Ali nodded. That wasn't difficult, the hardest bits had already been said. He described the sex with the three of them for about half an hour, in great detail, because the father wanted to know exactly, to imagine it behind his closed eyes as if he had fucked his sisters himself. Then the father nodded. "My boy, that's enough, thank you! I know more about my sisters now than ever before. Thank you for that." He stood up with difficulty and stretched his back, the source of much pain. He hugged Ali left and right, traditionally. The long, difficult conversation was over.

Jamal, Rika and Ali spent almost every free minute together. Rika wanted to organize the beautiful big wedding herself, and Jamal thought about rearranging things. He needed a large workshop, at least two employees and a home not too far away for himself and Rika. Away from the small-scale milieu. And they spent a lot of time fucking. Ali knew that once they were married, this bon vivre for three would be over.

He had met Jamal's mother and he couldn't get the pretty woman in her mid-forties from the south of the Nile Valley out of his head. The Pharaohs' wives must have been made of this stuff, she looked and behaved like royalty, there was no other way to describe it. Nima had followed Jamal's father here over 20 years ago, only to discover that he was a windbag and a blowhard.

Nima realized far too late that she had married into a poor environment. She chased her husband out of the house with a broomstick, and he was never seen again. She gave birth to Jamal and sold her body and her lovemaking to the better houses. But she was able to give Jamal a solid education and a good training as a coppersmith. That was Jamal's chosen profession, which arose from his visits to the bazaar. She had to pay his master a fair amount of money, so she constantly slept with the rich and let them fuck her until the boards bent.

She was very adept at handling her physical desires. She soon sorted out bad fuckers, even if they paid well. She had a good customer base, rich, well-paying men who could satisfy her sexually. In terms of her skin color, she was a mixture of white Egypt and black Africa. Her African ancestry was almost only visible in the color of her pussy, and that was just as black as that of Arab women. Otherwise, however, she had a light skin color with a healthy tan. She had tamed her curly hair since her youth, in keeping with her Arab neighbors. She was fully integrated, even though her home was many days' journey away. She never hid from Jamal how she earned her money, but she raised him to be a good, good-natured boy who easily recognized and shook off his prejudices. Ali hardly knew her at the time, even though he became Jamal's best friend.

Jamal was very hardworking and brought the money home. "Mama, you don't have to go on the streets anymore," said Jamal, "I earn enough and you don't have to humiliate yourself anymore to support us. I want you to give up this degrading, humiliating and dishonorable job, Mama! I really want to, and I will take care of you, I can do it!" So it came to pass that Nima gave up her job as a prostitute. She only kept three customers because they could fuck her very well and because they were generous and gave her money. Jamal was happy.

That was the state of affairs when Ali noticed Nima. He loved her flirtatious way of letting her skirt fly and making his eyes sparkle. Jamal had slept in her bed all his life and had learned from her everything a young man needed to know to be good at sex. Jamal and Rika had gotten together and Nima was sleeping alone again. Masturbating was only a last resort in her opinion, so she kept looking around. And for the first time she saw Ali properly, her son's 15-year-old friend who was financing Jamals leap forward and who Rika loved so much to fuck.

Later, she couldn't say where the impulse to conquer the 15-year-old boy came from. Was it the juicy descriptions of Rika, who spoke freely and uninhibitedly about sex with Ali? Or was it the unbreakable friendship between the two young men? No, Nima had never got involved with boys who were too young, but Ali was no longer a young boy; at 15 he had already seen more than some men at 35. Of course, she noticed his hungry gaze under her flying skirts, at her bare thighs and her pussy when she behaved in a cocky, frivolous way; that was probably the deciding factor.

Ali, who regularly visited Jamal and Rika, now came to Nima's more and more often. She knew how much he liked looking at her slim figure and dressed accordingly. Yes, maybe even a little frivolously, because she desired him more and more each time. And the boy was smart and sophisticated, he learned the business from his father. She risked her life buying brandy and served coffee with a shot. Ali knew alcohol, although he had been raised as a devout Muslim. When the brandy was finished after a short time, Ali told Nima not to buy any more, not for him. He didn't like the side effects. She understood that.

She had long sat on his lap lightly dressed when they kissed, often just in her bra and panties. She really enjoyed it when he softly and gently stroked her inner thighs while they cuddled, and his fingers played with the hem of her panties without going too far, just a little bit. He was still a boy, a shy boy. She saw him as an adult, although he was only 16. But he was already a young man in spirit, character and physique, by God no longer a boy. She kept asking him what he wanted with a 44-year-old, but he just shook his head. "If we add up our ages, we get 60. The numbers merge into 5 dozen. What does that tell me? Absolutely nothing. Next year we'll get 62, 61 will be left out — and that tells me nothing either. What do I want? I want to lie in your arms, Nima, nothing more. Egypt, Africa and Arabia merge in hot desire, yes, I want that. Absolutely."

Nima knew that Ali knew about her prostitution. That he also knew that she had given up prostitution at Jamal's request. Ali nodded, "I know all that and it has no connection to us, to you or to me, to today." Nima shook her head. "No, that's not quite true. I've kept two or three of the customers, not primarily for the money, but because I let them satisfy my carnal desires. That's true, and that says everything about my depraved character. My husband was a windbag and I'm not one iota better."

Ali couldn't say anything to that. He slowly got up and left without saying goodbye. He wandered aimlessly through the streets, looking at everyone and yet seeing no one. He was in love with Jamal's mother, but he hadn't fallen for her yet. Jamal had noticed his pain some time ago and had just said: "Don't hurt her, Ali. She will certainly never hurt you, just as she has never hurt me. Please don't hurt her." That closed the chapter from friend to friend, there was nothing more to say. Ali was sad and desperate. He had discovered love for a woman and she only let him see the dark side of her soul. He clung to the hope that there was another side to her soul, a beautiful one, perhaps a wonderful one. But she obviously wanted to confront him with the dark side first, the other side would come later or never.

He turned around and went back to her. She had already changed to go to bed. He could see that she had been crying, had been crying a lot. She put a finger over his lips before he could even say a word. She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. One touch and the silk negligee fluttered to the floor. She was beautiful, wonderful. He was speechless, as if he had never seen a beautiful woman before. She looked at him in amazement and took off his clothes, piece by piece. She pulled him onto the bed and hugged him, kissing him with a deep French kiss. Ali's heart was pounding in his throat, he was close to dying of love. Her hands explored every corner of his body. Gradually he came to senses, letting his hands glide over her flawless body in amazement. She could just as easily be 15 as 45, that overwhelmed him. "Don't hurt me, Nima," he repeated Jamal's sentence.

She was very experienced in fucking. Effortlessly, gently and extremely tenderly she guided his cock to the entrance of her pussy and released it there. Like no woman before she hugged his face with both hands and with a deep French kiss she impaled herself on his cock. And she fucked him from below, he fucked her from above. He didn't look at the clock, in this eternity time no longer counted. His senses deceived him. Was he fucking Umm-Arq, who was the best to fuck so far? Or was Nima a mirage, a fata morgana magically making him believe he was fucking Umm-Arq? He was confused by the change of faces, bodies and pussies. Which one was it really?

Nima clung to him and let her orgasm roll gently over her, letting it twitch and wriggle as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She sought his lips, although her thighs were still trembling. "Ali, oh Ali," she breathed, "if you like, let it squirt, complete our union!" And Ali squirted, blissfully and as if out of his mind, squirted and squirted and wished it would never stop. He suddenly felt his fatigue, the almost painful slackening of his cock. Nima gently pulled his cock out and licked it clean.

He wrote a message to Umm-Arq, saying that he would not be coming home tonight, but that everything was fine.

"Love you, Mom!" he wrote.

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