The Strange Man Come Back

Author Notes: This one is inspired by The hypno7ist's Caller's Choice.

“Aisha? Who?” Salma replied to her mother.

“She’s your sister. Don’t play stupid. What happened to her? And why do you smell like a cigarette? Are you smoking?” Her mother threw several questions at her.

After hearing her mother’s words, Salma finally recalled who Aisha was. She’s her sister. And with it, the memory of what happened to Aisha and her. She recalled opening her door to a man. She thought he was just a salesman and was about to refuse whatever he was trying to sell. But she let the man in instead. She was unable to recall why she let the man in. She would not easily bring men into their house. Salma and Aisha lived together in their rented house; the two were devout muslim women.

Weren't they? Well, whatever, there must be a reason I brought the man in. Salma thought.

She tried to recall the event further. The man was saying something to them. And then Aisha, her more religiously devout sister removed her hijab, and then followed by her abaya dress, and finally pulled down her underwear. She was naked. Her long black hair cascaded gracefully down her back. Aisha looked panicked in one moment, and then calmed down the next moment after the man said something to her. Aisha froze on the spot with a wide smile on her face.

The man then turned his attention to Salma. Salma thought the man would make her undress as well, but Salma then picked up the hijab veil from the floor. She grabbed a bunch of her back hair and styled it into a messy bun before she put on the hijab on her head. She remembered it now. Aisha was the more devout and traditional of the two; she would never be seen outside her room without her hijab and abaya or other skin-covering long dress. Unlike her sister, Salma was more progressive, modern, and rebellious. As they moved from Arab to the state, she began to forgo her hijab and dress in a more fashionable and daring attire that showed more skin. Not much revealing to make her be called a slut, but a lot less stuffy than what her sister was wearing. She believed that her faith wasn’t gauged from how she dressed.

After the hijab, next she picked up the dropped brown abaya dress from the ground. Salma didn’t even bother to undress her short sundress, but just wore the brown abaya over it. She didn’t feel weird at all about wearing the abaya over her dress. It’s not something weird anyway.

The man said something to her that Salma couldn’t remember, but she decided to just stand there, looking at the man who went back to talk to her sister. The man took out a cigar, a thick one. The man lit the cigarand handed it to Aisha. Salma knew that Aisha was not a smoker, and she couldn’t stand smokers, but the man whispered something to her sister. Aisha brought the cigarettes to her lips. She took a long, slow drag and then exhaled a thick puff of smoke.

If she could, Salma wanted to pinch her nose so as not smell the smoke. It made her feel irritated toward Aisha. She didn’t blame the man, but blamed her sister for being a smoker.

Aisha smoked a few more. Before the man stopped her. Aisha then gave the man a smoking kiss.

Salma couldn’t believe that her prudish sister was kissing an unknown man. Once again, she didn’t blame the man but blamed her sister.

The man fondled Aisha’s big tits and fingered her cunt as they locked in kisses. Aisha was leaking pussy juice down her legs.

The man stepped back after a while. He said a few more words, and then Aisha kneeled before him. She unzipped the man’s pants and took his cock out. She blew out another thick puff of smoke to his cock before proceeding to suck his dick.

Salma stood in horror. Not only did her sister kiss a strange man, but now, she sucked his cock in front of her with much passion. How shameless!

The man pulled his cock from Aisha’s mouth and then shot his cum on her face. Thick ropes of cum coated Aisha’s face.

“You are good for someone who was once a prude. You are such a slut, I think I will keep you.” Said the man.

Salma could no longer think of her older sister as pious, faithful, and a good woman. Just as the man said, Aisha was a slut. A feeling of disgust arose in her chest toward her sister.

The man looked at Salma.

“Let me borrow your hijab for a minute.” Said the man.

Salma hesitated to remove her hijab.

The man let out a sigh, “Transferring your sister's prudishness to you too early seems to be a mistake. Obey me!”

Salma no longer hesitated and removed her headscarf and gave them to the man. He handed the hijab back to her sister.

“You know what to do with it.”

Aisha nodded. Instead of wearing the hijab again, she used the cloth to wipe the cum on her face.

“Blow some smoke on it so it will smell like a cigarette.” The man commanded after Aisha finished wiping her face with the cloth.

Aisha followed his command and blew some puff of smoke on the hijab. After finishing his command, she gave the hijab back to the man. And in turn, the man gave the hijab back to Salma.

“This is your favorite hijab to wear from now on. You will not wash it for at least a week. Wearing it will make you hate your sister so much because how dare she soil your favorite hijab? After a week, you will forget about your sister, and could only remember her vaguely. Your hatred will still be there, though, but it is now directed at others. You will pick Aisha’s piousness and think yourself holier than others, you nitpick other people's mistakes, and you will channel the hatred you have for your sister toward them. The hatred burns your chest, and to ease it, you need to feel better than others. But on the other hand, you hide some nasty secret, you are turned on if someone cum on your face or hijab. For at least a week, you will get some random men to cum on your face, and then wipe the cum with your hijab. You will not wash the hijab you use to wipe the cum for a few days and wear it for that period. You only change into a clean one when you are about to beg a man to cum on your face that day. You will also love the smell of cigarettes. But the notion of smoking by yourself disgusts you, so you will regularly visit a smoking room just to bathe yourself in the cigarette’s scent.”

After finishing saying his command, the man left with her sister in tow. But he stopped before opening the door.

“Right, one more thing before I leave, if some of your close relatives ask about the slut here, you will remember me, I will leave you my number that you’ll only remember at that moment, and call me. You will do your best to keep your relatives or friends in the house until I come.”

Instead of answering her mother’s question. Salma took her phone and quickly dialed a number she just remembered.

“Hello. I am Salma Fahrouz, the sister of Aisha Fahrouz, the muslim slut you took away. My mother is here, she’s asking Aisha whereabout.”

“Salma, who are you calling?” Her mother asked. She was shocked when Salma added the word muslim slut after saying her sister’s name.

“Someone who will bring Aisha. Just wait.” She answered curtly.

Salma should have been horrified and asked her mother to escape when they still had time. But no, Salma only felt calmness. She wasn’t horrified or worried at all. She needed to obey the man’s command.

Almost half an hour later, she heard the front doorbell ring. Salma knew it was him. She opened the door, and as she expected, the mysterious man was there.

Behind him was her sister or what was once her sister. The previous Aisha was the type that only used makeup subtly, but this new Aisha’s face was caked with makeup. From thick black eyeshadow, eyeliner, blusher, and dark red lipstick. Her once long, straight black hair that cascaded down her back was styled in curly side-swept. She, who was once too prudish to show her skin, was now only dressed in a golden triangle bikini top and a sexy high slit skirt. Her tits were bigger and much rounder than before. It’s easy to tell that Aisha got a fake breast implant. Between her fingers was a smoking pipe with a lit cigarette.

Salma didn’t know what Aisha had become. Was she a whore? An exotic belly dancer? A high-class escort?

Aisha’s face only showed a bored expression when they met. It’s like she was meeting a stranger who didn’t interest her. Salma also disliked her, so it might be better this way.

Salma stepped aside and let the man and Aisha come in.

As Salma expected, her conservative mother was stunned when she saw her once pious daughter dressed like a slut.

“Aisha, what in the name of Allah are you wearing!?” Her mother was hysterical when she saw how Aisha looked.

Aisha just rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why this strange old bitch yelled at her.

“Calm down, ma’am. Let me explain to you.” Said the man. “But first, you should introduce yourself to me.”

“My name’s Nadia Fahrouz, I’m the mother of these two girls, Aisha and Salma. I’m 45 years old.”

The man ogled Nadia. The 45-year-old woman’s appearance actually wasn’t that bad. He could tell where Aisha and Salma got their exotic, pretty faces. Her face was mature, but no wrinkles appeared on her face yet.

“Is your husband a wealthy businessman?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Nadia replied.

Nadia was pampered by her husband, who was a high-level director of one of the big oil companies back in Saudi Arabia. They had been married for 20 years. They were a traditional family; her husband worked and provided, and she tended their home as a good wife and mother for his children.

“Are you happily married to him?”

Nadia nodded. Of course, she was.

The man interjected, “No, you aren’t, you only act happy. You have acted for so long that you gaslight yourself into thinking you are happy. It’s almost automatic for you to nod your head whenever that question is asked so people wouldn’t notice your true feelings. Don’t worry, we are thousands of miles away from Saudi, nobody in the state will punish you even if they found out you are a lesbian. You have been waiting for this chance, the chance to leave your old lives behind.”

Her body trembled; it was like something had changed inside her. She wanted to deny the man’s word, but deep down in her core, she knew the man spoke the truth.

“You are a wild lesbian, Nadia. For so long, you have been suppressing your desire. It makes you insatiable once it is unleashed. You prefer young girls, girls like Salma or Aisha. But you know that at your age, having romantic relationships with girls around these ages was almost impossible, so you turn your target realistically, hiring whores. Thankfully, there’s me, your friend, I can supply you with all the whore you need. Look at the girl here, do you recognize her?”

“Yes, she is my daughter, Aisha.”

“No, she isn’t. What was your impression of Aisha before?”

“She’s a good girl. Pious to her religion.” The MILF answered.

“Now, look at her, does she look like a good, pious girl who is devoted to religion?”

Nadia shook her head.

“What do you call a girl like her?”

“A slut.”

“Yes, a slut, but to be specific, she is a whore. The girl in front of you is Genie, not your daughter, Aisha. Genie is a whore, say it.”

“Genie is a whore.”

“Sit down, and let Genie show you what she is capable of. You will love it,” the man commanded.

Nadia took a seat on the nearest sofa. Genie then sashayed toward her. Genie climbed up her mother’s lap. The Arab girl began to grind her bottom on her mother’s lap. Genie was giving Nadia a lap dance. Not only grinding her bottom, but she also started to rub her tits at Nadia’s face.

And Nadia…loved it. The fire of desire lit inside her. It burned her from within; burned her morals, burned her inhibition, burned her faith to her religion. She was no longer burdened and shackled by those things.

Nadia shoved aside Genie’s bikini cup and freed her tit from the bikini. She then sucked at her nipple feverishly while her other hand fondled the other tit.

“Okay, enough.” The man told them.

Nadia hadn’t had enough, but she followed the man’s command.

“Look how wet you are,” the man commented.

There was a big wet spot around her groin area on her white abaya dress.

“You should change your clothes.”

Nadia got up from the sofa and was about to walk back to her bedroom to change her dress.

The man stopped her. “Undress here.”

Nadia undressed without complaint. The figure hidden in the abaya, which normally could only be seen by her husband, was shown to another man. Nadia’s body figure was a bit pear-shaped and thick, the healthy kind.

The man turned his attention to Salma, who was silently observing the event unfold from the beginning to the present. He could see the disbelief and disappointment in her face. The man had taken her abilities to blame him, so she could only attribute the action to her mother and Aisha. In her mind, the two did the sexual act voluntarily.

“Hey, do you have some bold, slutty clothes in your wardrobe?” The man asked Salma.

“I have some…But I never wear it anymore,” she added the last words so the man didn’t think of her as a slut. She was a good muslim girl. She shouldn’t have owned that kind of slutty dress in the first place, but Salma, the rebellious one before she got changed, had bought some for collection and use when Aisha wasn’t around. Salma actually had an idea to throw them away after the man turned her into a pious prude, but she didn’t even want to touch these clothes, so she just let them sit in her wardrobe.

“Good, so old bitch, you can go to Salma’s room, and check her wardrobe, pick the sluttiest one you think will suit you.”

After waiting for ten minutes, Nadia came back to the room. She no longer had her hijab on her head, and was letting out her brunette, shoulder-length hair. Her abaya was traded for a tube top a few sizes too small for her, and just a sexy black lacy g-string.

“Nothing fits me down there except for these panties,” Nadia explained why she was only in panties.

“It’s alright, it’s good that you embrace your exhibitionist side. You love it when people ogle your body. It gives you confidence. You will tease and flirt with other men so they give you attention, but you will never fuck them, because you are a lesbian. The only man you will consider fucking is me if I ask you for it. At least four times a week, you will hire whore from me to fulfill your lesbian desire, but feel free to hire other whores in the street if you feel it isn’t enough because I know you are such an insatiable lesbian cougar. You will spend your money until your savings are in the red, then you will start selling yourself to others. Your preferred client will be another lesbian, but you will resort to selling your service to men if it means you can get enough money to hire a lesbian whore that night.”

Nadia’s mind absorbed the man’s command. If only she stayed in Saudi, she would still be happy with her husband; now her life had been changed forever and filled with debauchery by the powerful stranger.

The man looked at Salma once again after he finished with Nadia. He needed to cut the loose end. Sadly, it meant Salma would need to suffer some more. “Despite how you dislike your mother’s behavior and her being lesbian, you are fully filial to her. You will be subservient to her, and you will not have any thought to resist, not because you like her, but because it is your duty as her child. If someone questions her actions, even if your mom is in the wrong, you will be on her side, even if it is against your beliefs.”

After saying all that, the man brought Genie away. Leaving the family more twisted and ruined than before.

“Yes, lick that spot, you fucking whore!” Nadia commanded. She was having her pussy licked by a young blonde whore in her 20s. She wasn’t one of the man’s whore but just someone she found on the street.

While Nadia got her pussy eaten, Salma was steadily capturing the action on the camera. She didn’t want to do it, but she didn’t want to disobey Nadia. It was her mother’s command.

There were a few changes in her mother’s appearance as she was embracing her lesbian aesthetic. Like her shoulder length was now a pixie-cut, and dyed bright blue. Her face was adorned with a few piercings, such as a nose ring and eyebrow piercings. Aside from her appearance, her dictionary also became a lot more vulgar and brassy.

Her mother was naked aside from rainbow stockings on her legs. It was her favorite piece of accessory, a gift from the stranger when her mother hired Aisha, now Genie’s service for the first time. Rainbow stocking to show she was part of lesbian pride. Nadia also made Salma do the camerawoman duty at that time. For Salma, it was the least pleasant movie she took as Nadia’s camerawoman. She didn’t even bother to fake rubbing her skirt when she took it.

After Nadia finished having sex with the whore, Salma’s job didn’t end. She was also the video editor and would upload it at some porn site. It made her so ashamed because most of these accounts were made using her name instead of her mother’s name. Her mother wanted her to be the one who managed and ran her porn star's profile.

As she uploaded the latest video, Salma's phone rang. It was from her father. Her mother had one-sided divorced her father after just a few days after she came to the United States and was changed by the stranger. Of course, her father had a lot of questions. Unfortunately for him, Nadia and Aisha no longer took his call. Only Salma did. Salma, being absolutely on the side of her mother because of the stranger's command, could only say to her father not seek her mother anymore. It was the only mercy she could give. Hopefully, her father followed her advice. But it seemed he didn’t give up. Salma sighed. She didn’t want her father to be taken care of by the strange man.

The End.

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