by Reed James
She frowned at him. “It is your name, right? You are Yusuf, right. Yusuf ibn Ayyub?”
“Nope. I'm Kyle Unmei, Jr.”
“What a foreign name.” She peered at him, then nodded. “I can see the far east mixed in your face, but this language sounds European.”
“It's English.”
“I don't understand,” she frowned. “But only my bridegroom or one of his blood could have...oh my, how long have I slept?”
I shrugged. “It's 2014.”
She shook her head.
“It's the European calendar”
“Sorry. I was never taught that.”
Kyle thought for a moment. “So who is this Yusuf guy?” he asked. “Maybe that can help pin it down. Was he famous?”
“A Kurdish man destined for greatness,” Aaliyah answered. “I was told one day he would be called Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub when he ruled the Caliphate.”
“Salah ad-Din,” Kyle muttered, chewing the words up. “That sounds kind of...wait, Saladin? He died like a thousand years ago. That was during the Crusades or something.” He vaguely remembered that fact from Assassins Creed video game.
Her face fell. “You must be his descendant, Kyle.” She looked him up and down critically, then nodded. “His task has fallen to you, my husband. The Hidden People have been enslaved to the Marid tribe. You are our only hope.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. This was starting to sound like a video game or Star Wars.
“On your twentieth birthday, you must present yourself at Sahabah and claim the throne in my name.”
“Sahabah? Is that in Saudi Arabia?”
“It is everywhere and nowhere,” Aaliyah answered. “It is the capital of the Djinn.”
“This has got to be a dream,” Kyle gaped, pinching his arm hard. He didn't wake up.
She scooted closer. “It is no dream, my husband.”
Her hands touched his thighs and he realized he was naked from the waist down. Her dark eyes gazed at his hard shaft; he throbbed as she licked her lush lips, warm breath blowing across his cock. Everything went out his head at that moment—the fact that she was a Genie, her cryptic words about a task, the girlfriend he loved—nothing mattered except that a hot girl was just inches from his aching cock.
“Would you like to use my mouth for relief, husband?” Aaliyah purred. “Or would you like to take my maidenhead?”
“I...uh...” Christy's smiling face appeared in his mind. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend...” she mouthed the words. “Ahh, such an interesting concept. I do not see the problem. I am your wife. It is only proper that I relieve your needs. I am well versed in the arts of the sigh and the pillow, though no man has ever touched me.”
“But she's my girlfriend.”
“I know.” Confusion marred her face. “You are destined for greatness. Of course there will be other wives. You will need four before you can claim the throne.”
A strangled sound escaped his lips. “Four?”
“A great man must have four wives,” she answered. “Proof of his power. Now relax, husband, and let me relieve you.”
Her veil melted away and her mouth engulfed his cock. She was warm. So wonderfully warm. And her tongue was agile, swirling about his cock as she sucked. A girl's mouth is on my cock! A real, live woman or Djinn or Genie or whatever is sucking my cock!
He came.
He leaned back, gripping the sheets. The pleasure was so intense. Far better than anything his hand had ever generated. It drove all thoughts of his girlfriend, and his guilt, out of his mind. It was rapturous. He heaved, looking down at the girl, the genie, who just gave him his first blowjob. She had a pleased smile and a bemused look in her eyes; white cum stained her lips.
“That wasn't...unpleasant,” she smiled. “Salty and a little bitter.”
She rose up, leaning in to kiss him; he flinched back. “There's cum on your lips.”
“Oh, right,” she nodded and the cum vanished. “All better.”
Her kiss was soft and timid, much like Christy's had been the first time; for all her talk of training, she was quite inexperienced. Memory of Christy's bone-melting kiss in the car plagued his conscience; he did love his girlfriend, but Aaliyah's ardor was making it hard to remember that fact, and his own lust was quickly drowning out his guilt at betraying his girlfriend.
His hands grasped her sides, and he found her naked. He slid higher, expecting to feel her silk vest. Instead her found her ripe grapefruits. Where did her clothes go? They were softer than Christy's, but her nipple felt smaller, tiny buds compared to the fat nubs he felt on his girlfriend's breast not even an hour ago.
She mewled into his lips as his fingers pinched her nipple, and wiggled on his lap, his hard cock prodding the softness of her rear. Her hand rubbed at his bare chest. Where did my shirt go? Her fingers traced his pectoral muscles—ROTC and kendo kept him in shape. She giggled and cooed, clearly enjoying his definition.
“So strong, my husband. A warrior's body.”
His blood boiled, going straight to his cock. He didn't care about anything right now, least of all his girlfriend. He had to fuck this lithe, beautiful creature in his arms. He had to finally get laid. She didn't resist as he lowered her onto her back, her black hair fanned out across his pillows and comforter. Her hands found his rod, stroking it gently, guiding him between her legs.
“Take me, my husband!”
Why does she keep calling me that? His cock brushed the petals of her flower, damp with her passion's dew, and that question didn't matter. A spicy scent filled his nostrils, exciting him and driving him to plunge into her silky wetness.
His first thrust missed, his cock sliding up through her lips, bringing a wet moan as he brushed her clit, then he slid through the silkiness of her neatly trimmed, black bush; he almost came again. He drew back, taking a breath, and moved his cock lower, pushing slowly until he felt her wonderful folds spreading around him.
Sensations poured through him as he savored his first taste of pussy. He wanted to push into her, but something stopping him, soft like tissue, an obstacle keeping him from his goal. He pressed on; she gasped as it gave way before him. Then he was all the way inside her, his balls resting against her groin.
Rapture!
Pleasure!
Amazing!
Hot!
Wet!
He erupted; the sensations too much to hold back.
His cock shrank, wilting inside her. Frustration seethed in him. He was finally in a woman's pussy and he lasted five seconds. “I wish I could last as long as I wanted,” he muttered, “and keep fucking you.”
“Done, my husband.”
Life flared into his cock, and he expanded inside her. There goes my second wish! His hips pumped. Her hips rolled. He kissed her again, reveling in the tight, wet, silky feel of her sheath. He loved it. Her blowjob had been amazing, but this—this was paradise.
“Oh, my love!” she gasped as she writhed beneath him. “I love you, love you, love you!”
“I love you too!” Kyle moaned back. Did I love her? I love Christy? Right? His emotions were too confused by the pleasure surging from his cock. It didn't matter if he loved her. It just mattered that he kept pumping his hips inside her until that wonderful moment of release. He'd say anything to keep fucking her—any lie, any admission of love. He could sort out his feelings later when he wasn't buried to the hilt in hot cunt.
“You're so hot!” he grunted. “You feel wonderful!”
“Oh, yes!” she gasped. “I'm...I'm...cumming! Oh, what a wonderful word! Cumming!” She said it slow, letting every vowel and consonant linger on her lips. “Cumming, cumming, cumming!”
Her sheathe convulsed like a gloved hand about him. New sensations adding to plethora of other, wonderful feelings. Her legs wrapped tight about his hips, pulling him to her, and her nipples rubbed hard against his chest. He buried his face into her hair, smelling of sandalwood and jasmine. He bit at her ear, an
d that made her squeal and cum again on his cock.
He exploded.
Driving his cock as deep as he could, he basted her pussy with his seed. His body tensed, every muscle tightening. He grunted and groaned, pleasure spiking through him with every blast of cum. Then he was finished, and he collapsed onto the pillows of her breasts, burying his face into her silky tits. Sweat and the sweet unguents adorning her body warred in his nose along with reek of their lovemaking: cum and spicy cunt.
“Oh, my husband,” she purred.
“I'm not your...”
The door banged open. “What in the hell is going on in...” Faiza's voice trailed off at the sight. “Kyle...what...who...”
“Faiza, I...” He was about to say he could explain, but he couldn't. Beyond his astonished landlady stood an even more astonished Fatima. Faiza had only a few rules, and one of them was no bringing girls back for sex. Sex was solely for married couples in her eye.
“Kyle, you are in trouble,” she taunted; her astonishment replaced by a devilish grin. “Christy is going to be pissed when she finds out.”
Aaliyah slipped out from beneath him, still naked, and knelt before his mother on the floor. She has a nice ass. A rich, olive color, and no fat—two perfect hemispheres.
“Madam, it warms my heart to greet you. I am Aaliyah, daughter of Sheikh Umar ibn al-Jann, ruler of the Jann, and wife to Kyle.”
“I...” she stammered. “What, wife?”
“Forgive my undress,” Aaliyah blushed, and suddenly she wore her silks that did little to conceal her lush body. “We were consummating our union. I have sworn to see to his needs and was attending to my wifely duties.”
“Who is this girl?” Faiza stammered. “I don't understand. What about Christy?”
“She's a...” Crap, how do I explain she's a Genie?
“I am sure Christy will make a fine, second wife for Kyle,” Aaliyah continued. “Do not think me the jealous type. I grew up in my father's harem. He had four wives and a thousand concubines, all as fair as a desert oasis.”
Holy shit. A thousand?
Faiza drew in a deep breath. “I'm really confused here. Where did she come from? Did you sneak her in the house?”
He didn't know what to say, and was all too aware of his nakedness beneath the blanket. His heart raced a mile a minute, and his thoughts felt like molasses. He wanted to speak, opening his mouth, but he could think of nothing. I wish there was someway to make Faiza understand.
Done, my love, Aaliyah's voice echoed in his head.
Faiza relaxed in an instant. “I'm so glad to that Kyle's made you his wife, Aaliyah.”
“Thank you, Madam.”
Then Faiza entered his room, pulled Aaliyah to her feet, and hugged her warmly. “Please, call me Faiza since you'll be living in my house.”
“Mom!” gasped Fatima. “You're okay with them Kyle sneaking a girl in here? You always told me I was dead if I ever snuck a boy in my room! No sex before marriage under my roof.”
“Well, they are married, it's only proper for them to be...uh...intimate.”
Fatima spluttered like she was choking on a chicken bone then shot Aaliyah a piercing, almost jealous, look.
You can read my mind?
Of course. It can be difficult. Your thoughts are very...well...disorganized.
I wish Fatima would understand as well.
Fatima instantly regained her composure, her impish grin exploding across her face. Then she chortled. “Well, I guess your hand can finally get some rest. No more self-stimulation.” She made a jerking motion with her hand.
Aaliyah nodded emphatically. “I will make sure my husband's needs are satisfied. He will not have to resort to masturbation any longer. All of my body is his to use.”
Fatima rolled her eyes. “I see why you married her. You two are peas in a pod.”
“C'mon, let's leave them alone. It's a special night for them. I remember my own wedding night—” Faiza's words were cut short as she closed the door.
“All of your body?” Did that mean her ass, too?
“All of me. Even my ass, my love.”
His cock was hardening beneath the blankets. Her clothes vanished in a puff of yellow, and she knelt naked before him. “How do you do that? Make your clothes disappeared? And how do read my thoughts?”
“I am a Jann, though my powers have been limited to the hearth and harem.”
“What?”
“I can use my powers to make clothes or furniture, or to conjure food,” she answered. “All to maintain your household.”
“How does making Faiza and Fatima accept all this fall under that?”
“It doesn't, husband.”
“Call me Kyle. I'm not your husband.”
“You are,” she insisted. “You accepted my betrothal when you freed me from the lamp, and then you consummated our marriage in this very room.”
Kyle wasn't sure how to feel about that. She was pretty, but he didn't know her. His hormones made it hard to think clearly, especially with her kneeling naked before him, but he was sure he didn't love her. How could he? They just met. But he did want to fuck her again. He wanted to use her in every way his imagination could conjure, his lust warring with the guilt of cheating on his girlfriend.
“So we're really married?”
Pain crossed her face. “Are you displeased with me? Did I not satisfy you properly?”
“No, no! You...um...satisfied me very well. This is all just so sudden. We don't even know each other!”
“Everyday we shall grow closer and closer, our love growing stronger,” she declared.
“And what about my girlfriend?”
She gave him a confused look. “If she loves you, then surely she would consent to be your second wife.”
He sighed. How am I going to explain this to Christy. Hey, this is my wife and she's totally fine if we keep dating and hopes we'll get married. Like that'll fly! That was a problem for tomorrow. “How did you make Faiza and her daughter accept this if your powers only affect the hearth?”
“My powers affect hearth and harem,” she answered. “Causing your family to accept us falls under the harem part of my powers. As your first wife, it is my job to oversee your harem and see that you are satisfied. I read your thoughts so I can anticipate your desires.”
“So making Faiza accept you...”
“Let's me satisfy you without causing undo stress in your home,” she finished with a smile. “I can also make any woman fall in love with you, desire you, or allow you to bed them.”
He swallowed. Any woman? His masturbatory fantasy reared its head: Christy fucking him; Ms. Capello, his hot English professor, fucking his cock with her large tits; fucking his classmate Carla's fine ass; dusky-skinned Megan, his old babysitter, slipping in the shower with him; Toni, one of his college's hot cheerleaders, on her knees sucking his cock; Faiza's face dripping with his cum; more and more filled his mind, an endless parade of the hot women.
“Even Faiza” Aaliyah purred. “If you want a woman for your harem or as your wife, all you have to do is ask.”
“Why do you want to do that?” he asked, swallowing. It seemed wrong to Kyle to make any woman have sex with him, let alone marry him.
“You're a powerful man with a grand destiny. And powerful men have appetites. I understand this, my love, and wish only for your happiness.”
“So if I said, 'I wish for Megan to appear in my bedroom and fuck me,' you could do that?”
“Do you want that?”
Her dark eyes fixed on him, and an image of his old babysitter bent over in a pair of tight daisy dukes filled his mind. That image still haunted Kyle, and he loved to spank it thinking about his babysitter doing naughty things to him. Her ass was perfect, and she always wore tight clothing to show it off.
“I...” He worked his mouth, his mind whirling. It would be wrong.
I want to fuck that ass! his cock seemed to yell as it hardened.
He shuddered as
Aaliyah licked up his shaft, her pink tongue swirling around his tip.
You've always wanted to fuck her, what's the harm? the lustful side of him whispered
It would be against her will. the rational part of him countered.
Aaliyah's tongue felt wonderful on his cock; he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a moan. Megan's perfect rear floated in his mind, bent over. She probably shaves her pussy. You love spanking it to bare twats! Let's do it! Let's fuck Megan!
“I wish Megan was in my bedroom, wanting me to fuck her ass!”
“As you wish, my love.”
“Hello, Kyle.” He opened his eyes to see his old babysitter leaning over his desk. His eyes fell on her tan, perfect legs, following them up to her beautiful ass clad in a tight pair of jeans cut so short her pussy lips bulged around the material. She was older—it had been eight years and she was in her late twenties now—but still as beautiful, maybe even more beautiful, as she had been at eighteen when she watched him.
“Is she real?”
“Of course,” Aaliyah answered. “I summoned Megan from her bed and clad her in the outfit from your imagination. I could also conjure an illusion that would feel as real as Megan.”
“I've been naughty,” Megan purred. “I need your hard cock up my ass, Kyle.”
“Holy shit!”
“Enjoy,” the Genie whispered, pulling him to his feet and pushing him towards her. He glanced back to see her stretch out on the bed, her fingers rubbing through her bare pussy. I thought she had pubic hair?
I'm bare for you, my love, her voice cooed in his mind.
I got to watch what I think or she's liable to turn me into a toad.
Much too ugly. A nice songbird to perch in a cage and serenade me. He froze. A joke, husband. I would never hurt you. Relax and enjoy your gift. And don't feel guilty. You're a powerful man, and powerful men take advantage of beautiful women. There's some lube on the desk. It's your choice if you want to hurt her or not.
He glanced back at Megan and her wonderful ass wiggling in those tight jeans. Sitting next to her was a tube of KY jelly. “Umm, you should lube yourself, Miss Reynolds.” I didn't want to her hurt.
She smiled at him, face framed by gorgeous brown hair. “Call me Megan, I'm not your babysitter anymore. You've grown up into a handsome man! Those muscles...yum!”
