Language barrier

"Samir. Watch this. These American women, they do not know the word of Allah. I only have to wave my hand around, and present my penis. They only think of one thing. Just watch," the man said. He stood on as best he could and pointed "That is the horizon. You are in a jeep. I drank goat milk this morning!" he said in a commanding voice, all in Arabic. Katy looked around, not knowing what he was saying. Her big, blue-grey eyes wide. Her mind was full of images from the nightly news. Her imagination started to run wild. "This is my penis. It has only known my wife's touch, and I wish to remain faithful to her."

"Okay, Katy. You can do this!" she thought, and leaned forward, taking the bulging head into her mouth. The man giggled as she sucked it in, her tongue playing over the length of it. Katy batted her large eyelashes as her slightly glittery eyeshadow sparkled in the moonlight. The rocking, bouncing ride made it difficult to keep his cock in her mouth, so she steadied herself by grabbing his thighs.

"See Samir, they can't help themselves." the man said, amazed at how skillful she was at this. The prostitutes in Mosul were nowhere near as eager to please him as this American. Katy slid his cock deeper into her mouth, and slowly down her throat.

"Let me see." Samir said, unzipping his own fatigue pants. Katy grimaced, but she wasn't surprised. These were savage men, and they had her. Her only hope was to make herself desirable enough to them until some tribal leader or whoever who knew English, or at least who she was, could convince them that she was more valuable alive than dead. Samir slid over next to her, and pointed to her chest. "American, I want to see those." he said, pointing at her breasts. Katy kept sucking off the first man, her eyes shifting to Samir. He pointed again. She slid the strapless dress she was wearing down to her waist, letting her ample, naked bosom sway with the rocky road they were taking. Both men laughed. Samir unzipped his own pants, and fished his rapidly hardening cock out. Katy gently encircled it in her smooth hand, and started to slowly pump it up and down.

The third man, who had been silent this entire time, shook his head. His face was covered in an Arabic scarf. The AK 47 he had pressed between her shoulderblades sat beside him. He watched as she shifted her mouth from cock to cock, sucking one and then the other. The first man was breathing deeper, his now painfully swollen cock unsatisfied with her hand while her mouth took Samir's entire length into it. He was roughly fondling and groping her swaying breasts as Samir was reaching behind her, inching her dress higher and higher up her shapely thighs. The third man said something, quietly, in Arabic, but his accent was different from the others... The men looked at him, Samir rapidly meeting her mouth with his own thrusts and grunts as the first man was squeezing her nipples to tender erectness. They paused.

Katy glanced over. He was holding a machete. "Ms Perry..." he said. Her eyes went wide as her mouth filled with Samir's seed. He held her head there as he groaned at twitched, sending rope after rope of thick jism down her throat. The third man stood, drawing the machete. She was paralyzed with fear as cum spilled from her mouth and ran down her chin. He stood there, a shadowly figure against the desert sky. She drew her head back, the last of the man's cum erupting onto her face and neck in thick spurts before he released his grip on her.

"You...you know who I am?" she said; unsure of what was going to happen next.