Arabian Nights

Carrie and the Sheikh enjoyed the veritable feast. Freshly caught fish, lobster, shrimp, steak -- everything she loved to eat, all within reach. She could have spent the entire time eating, but she also needed to talk with her host.

"So ... I found some interesting videos of you with Cathleen," The Sheikh raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't think any survived. What did you think?" Carrie blushed.

"They were pretty hot ... but I wasn't sure why ... you and her ... I mean ..." God, this was awkward, Carrie thought.

"Well, for my part, it was simple. I come from a strict culture. A repressive culture, to many. I enjoy Western culture, and Western women. Not to the point I'd abandon my culture or my religion for it, but to the point that I am admittedly a hypocrite. But thankfully, I'd earn many points by converting a pretty American like you. You'd be quite the prize, you know." Carrie ignored that, for now.

"But what about for Cathleen?" The Sheikh sighed, remembering the buxom blonde American beauty.

"It was complicated. She absolutely loved John. But she had a son, John Junior. And she knew John Junior was very different from his father. Very ... effeminate. And he'd started a homosexual relationship with a fellow student. And she knew his father wouldn't accept that very well. And she loved that boy, doted on him. And while my culture wouldn't accept that, I am admittedly a hypocrite, as I have said. So I would have overlooked it. Gave the boy a chance to turn into what Allah willed him to be, so long as his mother accepted the hijab, and bore my children." Carrie stared at him, her jaw dropped open. So many revelations. So many secrets, just exposed. Fuck.

"And what happened?"

"John impregnated her again. She said we'd be together after the child was born. It obviously didn't happen. I tried marrying an Arabic woman. She was unable to have children and died. So I focused on business. Focused on success. And then I heard John had a new Barbie. And that he, and she, had a debt they owed me. And I'd be a poor businessman to leave debts unpaid, yes?" Carrie just nodded.

The Sheikh finished his tea. He stood up, casually undressing. He'd been waiting for this for a month. He was hairy, still strong, just like the videos. A little more cushion, as age inevitably brought, Carrie thought. His cock was still a girthy eight inches. He beckoned her to him, and she complied, as if in a trance. He took her to the bed, on sheets that felt like they had an infinite thread count, and placed her onto all fours.

"It would be sinful, to fuck you, unmarried like we are. We'll need to take the nikah mut'ah. It will mean we are married for this night." Carrie's eyes opened wide.

"Is this some trick?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder at him. He shook his head.

"Only for the night, I promise. You need to agree." Carrie squirmed against his big cock, her mind racing.

"I ... want you to be my husband ... for this night," she said, whimpering.

"And I want you to be my wife for this night," he said, pushing his cock inside her.

"Oh fuck, that's thick," Carrie said, squealing as he opened her pussy up. He pushed forward. So long since he had that Western pussy. And stealing her away from a rich, arrogant American to boot. Perfection.