The Meager

Douglas's in-laws were in town, straight from Islamabad. Douglas thought on the process that had led him here, not for the first time, to a homely Pakistani woman and children that took after her genes far more than his.

The language during those visits was mostly Pashtun. The meals were primarily goat based, and the conversations were mostly about him, rather than to him.

In the evenings, Douglas took his frustration out on his wife, burying his small cock into her tight pussy, her mismatched face veiled. He came after a few minutes, filling his wife with his seed.

"Why do they hate me so much?" he finally asked.

"They do not hate you. They hate this godless country," Zainab responded, a mixture of truth and lie. "They wish to see their grandchildren raised in their home country."

"And what do you think?" Douglas asked, chewing his lower lip.

She paused before providing an answer, as her pussy milked at his spent tool, reviving it for another session, and to dilute her husband's clarity.