Sexy Sheik 1 - Afternoon Delights

by Max Magnum

  SEXY SHEIK 1 – AFTERNOON DELIGHTS

  Max Magnum

  Copyright 2017

  This is a work of fiction and is intended as adult reading material. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is co-incidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  AFTERNOON DELIGHTS

  Sheik Abdul El Sharim lurked, partially concealed behind the ancient stone pillar, watching the girls leave the women’s market. It was an ideal place for a predator to wait and choose his victims. Even from across the road he could smell the spices and perfumes, hear the swell of feminine voices, and imagine the swell of female breasts. The women might think they were safe in each other’s company, but for him this was a happy hunting ground.

  His hooded black eyes assessed every woman emerging from the sheltered entrance. The old ones with their slow steps and bowed heads were easy targets, but the young ones were his preference.

  His gaze sharpened as a trio walked out, chattering. Two were obviously teenagers from the way they bounced along, scarves fluttering in the hot air. Their squeals of excitement inflamed him as they progressed through the crowded street. In seconds he was hard and hot inside his loose white trousers. The thrill of selection always got his cock energised, but this was a fast turn-on, even for him. Now he needed a woman more than ever.

  No bodyguard had yet joined the little group. Perhaps they felt there was safety in numbers?

  Three…

  He could entice one away and the other two would still be safe together.

  He snorted at that thought. Safe from what? Safe from him?

  Even though he wore the blackest of sunglasses, he fingered his white ghutra head-dress, then pulled the sides forward so it concealed more of his face. Stepping out from behind the pillar, he threaded his way through the noisy throng until he was close behind his targets.

  And fate was on his side. One of the girls lagged back slightly as she stooped to attend to the fastening on her sandal. Sheik Abdul flipped his robe around her, held her close with a steely arm, and pressed his other hand across her mouth to stifle any screams. She was tiny. Light to carry. His muscular body lifted her easily and he hustled her down a nearby alleyway, flinching as she tried to bite his hand with her sharp little teeth. But his grip was merciless, and soon they were well away from prying eyes and curious ears.

  He pushed through a gate into a private space he knew well. The grove of shady tamarind trees prevented it from being overlooked, and their green canopy concealed his progress toward the disused cottage at the end of the garden. He thought of the soft rugs he’d piled up into an acceptable bed on former visits. Soon…

  The girl continued to struggle, whipping around in his arms and making a surprising amount of noise for one so small. “Hush, he urged. “Be still, and I’ll be gentle with you.”

  That brought a breathy enraged groan and another attempt to bite his hand. What a little hellcat she was – and how satisfying she’d be to subdue. His now-steely cock pressed hard against her. Right into the cleft of her sweet curvy bottom. He thrust his hips forward as he walked, enjoying the friction of her flesh massaging him from tip to base.

  Once he’d reached the deserted cottage he kicked the door shut behind them, and in the dimness, lowered her onto the rugs. He kept her gagged with his fingers until he removed her headscarf. Her hair tumbled loose in midnight waves, and he threaded his other hand into it to hold her still—kneeling, and pinning her down by it so that when she tried to rise, her hair tugged tight and she cried out.

  “Will you be quiet for me?” he growled, staring down into her eyes. Such huge scared eyes—round and dark and shining, surrounded by a fringe of luxuriant sooty lashes. What a turn-on she was.

  But she squeezed them shut, depriving him of their beauty. She nodded very slightly.

  “Because if you’re not,” he added, “I’ll stuff part of your hijab in your mouth and bind the rest back around your head to muffle your noise.”

  That brought wide open eyes again and an expression of absolute indignation. “What a big brave man you are,” she taunted.

  The faintest trace of remorse ran through him and he eased his fingers away, drawing them through her glossy hair in a long, soft caress. She must have sensed there was some decency in him because she stayed silent, licking her lips to moisten them. He watched as her little pink tongue slid out and swept across her lower lip, then up over the bow of her top one. He wanted that tongue tangling with his, and then sliding over his skin. Over all his skin. His cock twitched with anticipation.

  “I’ll be quiet,” she whispered, rolling her head to inspect her prison, and doing some more moistening with her tongue before lowering her lids again. “Unless you hurt me,” she added. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Sheik Abdul’s gut tightened. She looked barely more than a child, although there was kohl around her eyes and surprising assurance in her manner.

  Desperate to enjoy her to the full, he tore off his sunglasses and ghutra, leaving his face and head exposed. If he gave her a good enough time maybe she wouldn’t report him? And anyway, what sort of description could she provide to make him sound different from all the thousands of other men in the city? Dark eyes, short black hair, close-cropped black beard, white clothing, mid-thirties. He’d been careful to wear no distinctive personal adornments, and his long dishdasha and trousers were the same quality that a common man would wear.

  He reached down to the hem of her purple abaya and gathered it slowly up her legs.

  Her eyes flew open again, and her lips parted as though to scream, but as his gaze bored down into hers she quietened it to a gasp of distress.

  When he’d pushed the fabric as far as the top of her thighs it was his turn to gasp. No plain white cotton panties for this beauty. Instead she wore a tiny satin bikini in rich watermelon pink.

  Trimmed with cobwebby black lace.

  With bows at each hip.

  And if he tweaked those ribbons, surely they’d come apart so he could slide the panties right off her?

  He pushed the abaya further up over the sweet curve of her belly until her exquisite matching bra came into view. It showed she was more than a child; each lace-trimmed cup cradled a plump little breast, and there was a centre fastening which he made short work of.

  She gave another gasp through those tempting lips. Another flutter of eyelashes before her gaze steadied on his again.

  He pushed the bra away and planted a knee between her thighs to hold her prisoner. Then he reached out and touched, stroking and fondling, slipping his fingers around her flesh to raise it to his lips. He dipped his head to capture the rosy nipple, and laved it with his tongue. Up it rose into a firm peak, and he smiled to himself, knowing he’d turned her on.

  The girl snatched a deep breath, and hissed it out between her teeth as she exhaled. Yes, she liked that, although maybe she wouldn’t admit it.

  He set his lips around the hard little nub and sucked, which caused another gasp.

  Her head rolled from side to side on the priceless hand-woven rugs, and she groaned and thrashed. “Ohhhh….” she protested, but her fingers grasped tight into the weave and made no move to push his head away. He teased her with licks and kisses, then blew on her wet nipple to make it even harder and more tempting.

  “Ahhhh…” she cried, beautifully responsive. She
ik Abdul found himself torn between teasing her some more or seeking his own pleasure. Desperate to feel his skin against hers he reared up, pulled his dishdasha over his head and flung it sideways, looking down at her ravenously.

  Her expression transformed. The agitated look on her pretty face changed to desire as her eyes inspected him. One hand rose to touch him. Small fingers ran up and down his forearm, and then to the swell of his considerable bicep. “So strong,” she murmured. “So young and powerful.” She stroked further up his arm to his broad shoulder.

  Sheikh Abdul’s body hardened to steel as he loomed above her. She liked him? Now he anticipated the most extreme satisfaction. Somehow he held still, and her other hand rose as well, brushing here and there over his flesh, admiring his muscles, and setting his blood racing even faster.

  Braver now, she smoothed both palms over his chest, trailing her fingers through the drift of dark hair there, and up to his face.

  Her lips parted as she cupped his jaw, and he imagined thrusting his cock between them to be sucked and licked until he spurted deep down her throat. It jerked inside his loose white trousers, almost out of control, and he clamped his teeth together to find some resolve.

  Not yet. Not yet. He bent to give her beautiful breasts more attention, sucking one side again, and plucking and rolling the other nipple between his finger and thumb.

  She groaned. Her hands settled on the back of his neck and threaded through his hair. He hauled her up against him, rubbing his chest against her breasts as he kissed her hungrily. She tasted like pomegranates, sweet and succulent.

  He parted her lips with his tongue and she flinched with surprise. Soon enough though she returned the favour, and thrust hers shyly in against his, holding his face close and whimpering in a way he could only translate as encouragement.

  Unable to resist any longer, he guided one of her hands to his aching cock as it reared up between them. She fought him at first, but she’d looked admiringly at his shoulders, so he hoped she’d also be impressed by the steely spear he was trying to force her to hold. She breathed hard, fighting him, but suddenly relaxed. He wrapped his hand around her fingers, pushing and pulling so they slid up and down his length in a delicious firm massage. He squeezed his eyes closed as release hovered not far distant.

  “Can I… take them off?” she whispered, plucking at his trousers.

  A shiver of satisfaction ran right through him. He looked down at her flushed face, and in answer he tweaked at the ribbons on her watermelon panties. The scrap of fabric fell away, leaving her naked pussy lit by the dancing shadows of sunshine through the tamarind trees. Her salty scent rose to greet him, and he gave a lusty roar of appreciation and pushed her flat again. His target looked for all the world like a ripe pink fig, split open ready for feasting on. He buried his head between her smooth thighs, licked around her folds, and sucked at the heart of her sex.

  The girl’s legs fell further apart and she shrieked with shock and then pleasure.

  Sheik Abdul pushed his tongue inside her, savouring her tastes and textures, lapping at her magic pussy-bud again and again as she twisted and panted.

  She was too much to resist. Leaving her gasping, he pulled back and stood, pushing the soft white cotton all the way down his powerful sinewy legs and kicking his trousers away. He had to have her. At least twice. Once for release, and once for languorous pleasure.

  Below him she lay wide-eyed and naked, and as his trousers descended, her eyes widened and her lips parted.

  She bit her lip as she gazed up. Her hand rose to touch his naked flesh, sliding the hood of his foreskin back and then up again, apparently fascinated. “Big,” she murmured, parting her legs further and tilting her hips up to him. “Bigger than my husband.”

  “Husband?” he exclaimed, sure she’d been a virgin.

  She nodded sadly, drawing up her knees and parting them again so her ripe pink fig was enticingly displayed, drenched with shining moisture. “He is old. Not young and strong like you.” She caressed him again, more firmly this time, giving him several long strokes before trailing her fingers down to cup his throbbing balls.

  “Husband?” he repeated, more softly as the shock sank in. “How old are you?”

  She shrugged. “Sixteen. Old enough to be married off to the man my father chose.”

  Abdul grimaced, sickened by the picture of her young flesh being sullied by a gross and grizzled goblin who had every legal right to treat her as he wished. “Is he kind to you?”

  Damn! His erection would ebb away if he thought any longer about her delicious body under another man’s. He gazed down at her moist well and licked his lips.

  “Not kind,” she whispered. “He wants a son, but…” She ran her fingers the length of Abdul’s lusty spear again, squeezing and teasing. “…his is not as big and hard as yours. He acts as though it’s my fault, but I think it is his.” She pulled the corners of her mouth down.

  Abdul fell to his knees. His blood surged hot again at her obvious desire, almost exploding at the touch of her inexperienced fingers tugging and rubbing at his bare cock.

  He dislodged her hand and moved closer. “Shall I give you a son?” he asked, pressing against her entrance. “Would that make him kinder to you?”

  Her eyes grew wide and hopeful. “It might,” she allowed. She flinched as he slid so far into her honeypot that he ended balls-deep in her slippery nectar. “Ahh!” she screamed, eyes wide and muscles tightening.

  Abdul groaned as she wrapped her smooth legs around his hips to try and hold him immobile, but she was so warm and wet in there, so sweet and desirable, that despite her protests he simply had to move. Their mouths melded in a long, hot kiss. He inhaled deeply and drew his cock out, then pushed it in again, slow and deep.

  “Ooohhh…” she sighed. “Yes, just like that.”

  He gritted his teeth and tried to take her gently, stroking her with his whole length. Soon though, it was too much, and he lost control, thrusting savagely, desperate to come.

  “Ahh!” she cried again and again, panting and sobbing, captive under his strong body, scoring his shoulders with her fingernails as she hauled him close.

  Finally he gave a long husky groan, sucked in a deep breath, and pumped out a super-dose of his seed in a long series of ecstatic shuddering pulses.

  ****

  She lay beneath him, trailing a hand across his back as he lay, still buried deep.

  “Do you think you started a son?” she asked, “Because…” Shyness overtook her and she buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Because?” he prompted, stroking long fingers over the curve of her beautiful bottom.

  “How many times would you have to do it?” Her voice was muffled against his skin.

  Abdul shook his head to try and clear it of the warm fog that had overtaken him after that intense orgasm. “Probably several, depending on timing.”

  She nibbled on his neck and sucked the lobe of his ear, releasing it with a small popping noise. “Well… um… because my sister would like one too. We’re twins, you see. And her husband seems no more fertile than mine. Could you help her as well?”

  Sheik Abdul closed his eyes.

  Two of them?

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. “I could make myself available for the next few days?” he suggested in an offhand tone. “Same time tomorrow? Here again?”

  He rolled over and took her with him so she sat on his belly and he could play with her breasts.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Same time tomorrow, but I want to keep all your juice inside me... in case… ” She wriggled off him and lay down on the rugs, pulling her knees up to tilt her hips backward.

  Abdul moved onto his side and a beam of sunshine lit her very pink, very wet pussy, now leaking traces of his milky white semen. Something inside him gave a strong lustful thud. “I’ll put a stopper in it for you,” he murmured, grabbing her ankles, and positioning his head between her thighs.

  He thrust his tongue
deep, tasting his own salty seed and her musky lubrication. The combination was amazing.

  His cock pressed against the textured weave beneath him, already hardening again.

  The girl’s hands clutched the rug either side of his head. “You can’t do that with your tongue now!” she protested, wriggling against his mouth.

  Abdul withdrew it. “Oh but I can, and I will,” he whispered, blowing a stream of cool air over her and watching as she contracted like a drawstring purse and then relaxed again.

  He explored her leisurely, sliding his tongue around her sweet folds, and teasing the engorged bud that pouted out between them.

  The girl groaned, long and low, and clapped her hands across her mouth to stifle her noise.

  Abdul smiled to himself, and released one leg. She let it sag out onto the rugs, no longer protesting.

  Slowly he built the intensity for her, licking and sucking her clit, sliding two long fingers inside her, and watching a few drops of his sexy white semen dribble out each time he thrust in. He pressed up, feeling for the special place inside, and knew he’d found it when she bucked against his hand and cried out. A little more sucking and rubbing, and she clenched tight around his fingers and thrashed her head from side to side, hissing out the breath she’d dragged in, and burying her fingers in his hair.

  Abdul made it last for her, watching the pleasure-pain on her pretty face, enjoying her frantic screams, and waiting for those long rolling contractions to gradually lessen and ebb away. Only then did he slide into her swollen and super-sensitive pussy to hunt down his own release.

  ****

  Max Magnum is the pen name for an established romance author who is having a bit of fun on the side. (Or any other position Max fancies.)

  Max has lived in the UK, Italy, and the South Pacific, and has been fascinated by sheiks ever since visiting Egypt and accidentally acquiring an Arabian partner for a while. Max is an eavesdropper, has a keen but twisted sense of humour, and luckily for you is a compulsive writer so you get to read the fruits of a very wild imagination.