The Desert King's Captive?

“Hmmm, maybe the one with the desert king and the American bridesmaid?” Alison smiles in anticipation.

“Remember, Mr. P, as the emir, you think that this American is the reason that your fiancée abandoned you.” Her eyes meet mine knowingly, “You'll have to be demanding, Sir as you punish her, and you have no idea she never been with a man. Not a beautiful, Western harlot like her.” My wicked grin must have satisfied her because her eyes sparkle with excitement and she is almost skipping through the bathroom door. I take the time to prepare a little myself. Hanging my jacket in the closet and removing my shoes and socks will speed up undressing later and I unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt as well, the man I see in the mirror is older and not as handsome as the cover of the book, but not bad either. Not much longer after that, the door to the bathroom opens and Alison enters the room hesitantly clutching a sheet to her naked bosom.

When she sees me standing in the room Alison feigns fear and surprise, but then stammers out a protest that only emphasizes how **** and exposed she is.

“What do want from me? I'm an American citizen - if you try anything you'll create a diplomatic crisis that will crush your country.” The words are to the best of my memory taken exactly from the book but coming from her covered with only a draped sheet they sound even sexier. Unlike my tenant, I did not bother to memorize the lines from the book, but I did my best to follow the rough outline laid out by the author.

“English, Amyra?” Surprising myself by remembering the name of the Arabian Princess, “In your four years living in the decadent West have you forgotten your Arabic along with your honor?” I step closer to Alison and see her shrink back in apparent fear as I lower my pitch to an ominous growl. “And what do you think I want with you? Do you think your 'Dear John' letter can change the fact that you are promised to me?” I gently brush the hair from Alison's face and do my best to look surprised to find an unexpected foreign face staring back at me.

“Who the Hell are you?” I demand and my hands grab her forcefully by the upper arms. “Why were you in my fiancée's hotel suite?”

“She's not your fiancée any more Your Majesty.” Alison is able to sound as spirited as the heroine in the book as she defends her college roommate. “Amyra is in love with another man - get over it!”

“Ah!” I smile as cruelly as I know how, “You are the roommate, the one who convinced my princess to forsake her vows.”

“She's marrying the man she loves, your excellency. What is wrong with that?”

“Because she is mine!” I shake Alison's slender body roughly, savoring the feeling of her soft flesh in my hands. “She was promised to me six years ago, by her father.”

“So, you sent your men to kidnap her? What were you planning to do once you had her in your palace?” She pulls the sheet a little higher to cover as much of her body as possible, “You're pathetic! This is the 21st century, you cannot just **** a woman into submission.”

Instead of arguing with her, I pull Alison up to meet my mouth and kiss her passionately as she jerks in surprise. It does not take long before her muffled protests turn to whimpers of delight, and when I slip my tongue between her teeth, she is more than ready to reciprocate.

“I think, Miss Miller, that you still have much to learn about men.” She shrieks in surprise when I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the bed.

“Wait! I'm not Amyra!” Her protest is half-hearted at best, and I try to remember if the Harlequin heroine is this compliant in the book or if it is Alison who is eager to move on to the 'good stuff'. She does wiggle a little when I pull the bedsheet off her with a forceful jerk. Her exclamation of surprise when I slowly kiss my way back up her inner thigh from her knee to the sweet-smelling junction where her legs meet however is genuine, and I am reminded again about how little experience with men my young tenant actually has.

“No, but you are beautiful, and here and I am, after all, a man.” It is tempting to simply plunge into this wiggling teen, but I have something new I want to try.

“Oh! ... What? ... Oh No, stop it ...” when I first reach her pussy I nibble around the edges carefully, breathing in her aroma and teasing her with my lips. “Please, oh ... oh wow... ” by now her hips are lifting off the bed to press her sex up into my mouth and I can taste even more of her nectar flowing from inside and I turn my attention to the small bud hidden in her folds. “Oh my goodness!” Her hands are in my hair, but not to pull me off her instead she is pressing my face even harder against her sex as she grinds against my mouth and nose. I consider using a finger to explore her from the inside, but before I even get a chance to touch her I feel her back arch and feel her legs tighten around me ears. I listen to her climax as I stab into her with my tongue trying to keep her squirming for as long as possible.

“Oh WOW ... Mr. P. I never knew -” she stops abruptly when she sees the hunger in my eyes as I climb between her legs and pulling away her arms that have crept up to cover her shapely breasts.

“You American girls are such sluts.” I growl as I squeeze her firm tit roughly, “It doesn't take much to make you scream out like whores.” I see the hint of a smile on Alison's face before she pushes hard against my shoulders in a futile attempt to roll me off of her.

“No, wait ... I'm not like that!” I use one hand to position myself at the perfect angle against her pussy while the other grabs her slender wrist and use it to trap her other arm against the bed over her head. “Please, I've never - Aiiggh” Her protests of innocence are cut short by a sharp cry as I ram my hard cock deep into her. I can just imagine the sense of pleasure and surprise that fictional desert king would have experienced as he felt his manhood tear through the restriction within the American virgin's passage. God she was tight.

“What?!” I pretend to stop in surprise savoring the feeling of her muscles squeezing my cock like a vice.

“I was trying to tell you, your majesty.” Alison is so young and sweet that she really looks for all the world like an innocent who is experiencing a man's touch for the first time, “I'm not a slut or a whore, I'm a good girl - or at least I was.”

“Trust me, Miss Miller, you are a very good girl.” And with that I proceed to slowly work my way back up to full speed, enjoying the soft cries of the woman under me as I stretch her open for the second time on that hotel bed. I know of course that this is not really a virgin any more than I am a fabulously wealthy Emir of a small desert emirate, but that doesn't stop either of us from enjoying this fantasy. I pace myself so Alison is once again teetering on the edge of a climax before I catch both her legs behind the knees and bend them up to her chest as I increase my tempo even more. The extra sensation of being bent in half like a pretzel is all she needs to start her second climax, and as she bucks under me I shoot stream after stream of my cum into her tight pussy.