POW Prisoner Of The Widows Chapter 4
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POW (Prisoner Of The Widows)Chapter 3 free porn video
I woke to my second day of captivity trying to find a spot on my body that didn't hurt. I couldn't find one. Surprisingly as long as I was off my feet, my knees and ankles felt better than my neck, back and head. I knew it was typical to have aches and pains that my body suppressed yesterday, but knowing it intellectually and feeling it for real were entirely different animals. I was happy as hell when Jamilah and Adara entered my cell with breakfast.
"Sabah alkhair (good morning), Neek. Did you sleep well?" Jamilah asked.
I returned her greeting. "Sabah alnur, Jamilah, I slept well but I am in much pain this morning. Perhaps you could get my medicines out of my vest?"
Jamilah said she would ask Basheera about the medicines after breakfast. She told me that they were going to empty the vest and bury it along with the other trappings identifying me as an American aviator. I nodded, and greeted Adara who rewarded me with a sweet shy smile. Jamilah gave not the slightest indication that she had been my nocturnal visitor. She even commented that she was glad Basheera had decided to leave my hand free. Either she was a good actress hiding what happened from her daughter or my midnight paramour had been Basheera.
Basheera did allow me some of my pain meds. Jamilah brought in my vest while Basheera stood in the doorway. I started removing my medical supplies and giving them to Jamilah along with an explanation of each. Jamilah asked me why I had so many medical supplies. The women seemed interested that I was a doctor of sorts. Finally I dug out the plastic baggy that I'd prepared and took out the pills I wanted. Thinking a little bribe wouldn't hurt, I fished the ten South African Krugerrands out of their secret compartment and passed them to Jamilah. Even Besheera's eyes went wide at the sight of the shiny gold coins. The gold was something I carried on the advise of my commanding officer, there were five of the one ounce variety and five half ounce ones.
"You might as well have these before you destroy the vest," I said.
"These will help us greatly Neek as we need food, seed and other supplies," Jamilah gushed.
Jamilah left carrying my vests and its contents, she stopped at the door and gave Basheera the coins. Basheera stood in the doorway a few seconds then spoke to me for the first time.
"Shukran, Neek," she said softly.
My day was much less insane than the preceding one. I made it through two meals and a bath with no one grabbing my joint. I was even left alone to sleep through the night.
On day three I felt much better. My headache was gone, and except for some residual stiffness, everything except my left knee and ankle was feeling much better. The women of the house were in a collective good mood that day, making me feel even better. Adara spent most of the day in the cell with me; she had been assigned the task of improving my Arabic. I would never pass for a native of course, but Basheera had a plan to account for that.
Adara was a delight, she was so eager to learn and so serious in her role as my teacher. I liked her for what she was, a smart and sweet young woman. She liked me because I never thought of her handicap as detracting from her beauty or value as a person. It was Adara who started breaking down the clothing taboos. We were sitting on my sleeping mat, she with a notebook in her lap, me sitting against the wall teaching her grammar. Suddenly my curiosity got away from me.
"Adara, I want to see your hair, I think it must be very pretty like the rest of you."
She blushed and kept her eyes down on her book. "That is forbidden, Neek; a woman must stay covered so as not to lead honorable men to impure thoughts."
"But I'm not a follower of Islam, so my soul is damned anyway," I replied.
She pondered my reply for a few seconds then unwrapped the scarf from around her head. Her hair was even more beautiful than I thought it would be; it was long, thick and a deep dark brown.
I couldn't help reaching out to touch the mass of walnut tresses that flowed down her back. My touch was motivated by curiosity, not lechery. Adara shied away for a second, then with a sigh, leaned her head back against my hand. I knew that my stroking her hair was probably about the only contact she'd ever had with a man, and sadly, because her defect was considered a curse, it might be all she ever received. It was a serious shame because she was an amazing young woman in every measure that mattered. I decided then and there that I was going to do all I could to make her feel as special as I thought she was. A thought that I might be getting too close to these women nagged me from some hidden recess of my mind but I ignored it.
I met the daughters of Basheera on this day also. Their names were Kalila and Zahrah, Kalila was seventeen and Zahrah was sixteen. Both of them were beautiful and both of them were petrified of me because I was a man. Jamilah told me their fear was based on the fact that they were of an age to marry and they were full of fear of being taken from their home as minor wives of some fanatic. Basheera, it seemed, had filled their heads with ideas of marriage being an odious duty.
The Hassan women had worked out an efficient system for taking care of me, with most of the tending done by Jamilah and Fatima. Adara was with me almost constantly acting as my interpreter. I was well fed twice a day and bathed about as often. The women were almost fanatical about cleanliness. My only real complaint aside from being a prisoner was not being given any clothes to wear other than my underwear and a pair of green boxers that must have belonged to Abu Hassan. They made me change every morning and washed what I had worn daily. One concession the women made was to give me a cheap, Russian made, windup watch. The watch had a frayed leather strap, huge luminous numbers on the face and a day of the month window. I had to admit that I felt more naked without a watch than I was about not having pants.
As I lay on my pad that night I began to think about why it was taking so long for help to reach me. In terms of air distance I couldn't be that far from where Pete went down and in the barren desert a crashed A-10 should be easy to spot. Hell, I'd seen pictures taken from satellites that captured a car's tag number; surely they couldn't miss a fifty-five foot long airplane. I stopped worrying about it because I knew the SAR folks knew what they were doing. They were probably widening the search area as I lay there. I steeled myself to be patient and soon was relaxed enough to sleep.
Basheera completed her preparations to once again sacrifice her womanhood for the good of her family. This night though, she had no second thoughts. The only change in her routine was the application of some jasmine scented oil on her faraj to expedite his entry into her depths. As she applied the oil she was surprised that she didn't need much of it at all; her sex was already damp with her own nectar. Basheera slipped into her burka and put on her face covering niqab before sneaking down the stairs.
Basheera slipped into the cell again and as before the American turned towards her. She set the candle by the door and moved over to the sleeping mat. She tried to tell herself that she was anxious to get it over with, but in her heart of hearts, she knew she was just anxious to get started. He did not struggle or protest when she reattached the shackle to his wrist. When he was secured she moved the candle closer to them so she could see him better. She was pleased when he didn't struggle as she pulled off his underwear and heartened that his manhood was already straining to its full length and girth.
This time there was no dryness to impede her progress as she sat down on him. Instead her natural lubrication and the jasmine oil allowed her to smoothly take him in a few delicious movements. Because the experience was so pleasant last time, Basheera experimented with angle, speed and depth of penetration. To her amazement, everything she tried felt good to her. It took her only minutes to reach a thunderous climax. She bit the heel of her hand again and thrashed wildly above him. Her orgasm seemed to last forever, it was so strong she became lightheaded. With one last shudder, her upper body fell forward until she was draped over him, her face resting on his chest.
She stiffened a moment when his arms wrapped loosely around her shoulders but then she relaxed and settled into his embrace. Throughout her achieving her release he had been still beneath her. Now he gently started rocking his hips from side to side. His phallus was still hard in her so she figured he'd yet to spend. As he slowly ground against her, he moved one of his hands around until he found her swollen and sensitive breast. He squeezed it firmly but not painfully in a way that felt wonderful to her. When his lips started pushing against her veil lightly nibbling her neck through it, tingles radiated down her body. She grabbed the candle and blew it out plunging the room into inky darkness. Sitting up slightly she unwrapped her niqab veil and head covering.
My nighttime visitor returned on my third night in captivity. My response to the sight of the shadowy burka clad figure was classically Pavlovian as my dick hardened instantly. I didn't resist her as she reattached the manacle to my right wrist, I was certain now that my visitor had to be Basheera because she was the only one with the keys to the shackles. I couldn't figure out her motivation for doing this but my conditions improved dramatically after her last visit so I was not going to fight her off even if I could. Besides, even though I could tell she wasn't a very experienced lover, she had a marvelously tight and talented little pussy. Thinking that cause me pangs of conscience, pangs that were quickly pushed aside as she sat astride me.
She didn't have any problems mounting me this time; she was hot and slick as she worked her way down my shaft. She started moving on me as soon as she was fully seated. She moved up and down a couple of times then started moving in different directions as if she were trying to find what felt best to her. I was enjoying her experimentation; her syncopated rhythm kept me from getting over excited. Amazingly, it took only a couple of minutes for her to orgasm. It must have been a big one judging by the way she writhed on my dick. When she fell forward onto my chest I instinctively wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened then settled into my embrace, her breathing ragged. I was still hard as a brick and horny as a goat, so I moved my hand onto her breast and started rocking my hips. I couldn't push with my bad leg so I had to settle for a little circular movement I achieved by alternately flexing my thighs and stomach.
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