Sheik Omar Ch 02
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Sheik Omar Ch. 05 free porn video
Young Lady Mary is rescued by Sheikh Omar from certain death from thirst. He took her with him while his caravan travelled home to his oasis town. Now together with a French army captain and an Irish rebel who joined the Foreign Legion they try to find out what to do.
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The English girl, the two soldiers in the French foreign legion and the Arab sheik sat around a table filled with teacups and pastries trying to figure out what she could do. Going back to the coast and sell the farm in Rhodesia she had inherited from her brother and then what? Go back to England or stay here as the Sheik had offered?
Lady Mary looked Sheikh Omar in the eyes. The man who had saved her in the desert after the plane her brother and she had been travelling in had made an emergency landing due to engine failure. Her brother had gone to look for help and had died in the desert and she had found herself in the tent of the desert lord who had traced her brother’s trail back to the plane. As always his eyes were looking at her so friendly and warm.
The French army captain and the Irish rebel under his command just sat in silence waiting for her answer.
‘But I cannot decide my own fate,’ whispered Mary. ‘Under the law I am still under age. I just turned 18 2 months ago and am barely out of boarding school. If I show up at the British embassy they will appoint me a guardian for the years to come and I have no clue who that might be. Maybe a distant cousin who is to inherit my brother’s title or some pillar of society. I cannot sell the farm in Rhodesia. I cannot marry. He will decide what will happen to me.’
‘Unless you elope,’ muttered O’Shea.
‘Do what?’ asked Sheik Omar.
‘Sometimes boys and girls run away from home and marry in Gretna Green or in France and with a consummated marriage the parents will pretend they did not mind,’ explained O’Shea.
‘Oh we have that in France too,’ said Captain Le Brun. ‘Well it can result in shame on the family and the couple having to spend the rest of their lives abroad in a colony or something.’
‘We even have it here,’ said Sheik Omar. ‘But some male relatives will insist on honour killings or wanting a huge financial compensation. But do I understand correctly that the only way to give you independence Mary is to have you married? But then your husband will be your lord and the one deciding won’t he.’
Mary felt panic rising up in her throat. What to do? Tears pricked behind her eyes and she ran out of the room though the long hallway into the moonlit small walled garden near the kitchen. The air was heavy with the smell of the herbs growing there. During the day the ladies of the household would be sitting here doing their chores in the shade of the orange tree but now the place was deserted.
All alone Mary started to sob. She hated the idea that some stranger would take command of her life and send her to Rhodesia or try to marry her off in England. What an irresponsible risk-taker her brother had been! To sell their family home, to run the estate he inherited to the ground, to invest all their money in risky things like a flying school in Africa. And now she was in the middle of the Sahara desert. All alone. The tears streamed down her face. Sobs raking her body.
Suddenly from behind she heard Omar’s voice. ‘Amira’. She turned around facing him. In the darkness she could only make out the white of his robe and his silhouette. He opened his arms and she just flung herself in his embrace. They just stood there. Her face pressed against the white cotton of his robe. Sobbing. He felt her tears wet the cotton on his chest. All he did was just hold her tight and slowly stroke her back. Her arms snaked around his back holding on to him.
Mary could hear his strong heartbeat. He had saved her life and had taken care of her. She had slept in his arms for weeks. He had kept her safe and given her a place in his home. He had been her friend. She might be young and maybe naïve but Mary did realise that some men would have acted completely different upon finding a young unconscious virgin in the desert. Had her raped, killed, sold as a slave maybe. Omar had not done any of that.
She let go of his back and lifted up her face to him and said in her halting French: ‘Omar what should I do?’
‘Amira, habibti. You know here but here you are afraid’. His hand touched her chest and her head. Then he cupped her face and softly kissed her. Her fists grabbed his robe as she felt her knees buckle. This was what he had done that morning and she had ended up panting with his finger deep inside her. The reminder of that made her flush with warmth.
His lips left hers and she reached up to have them back again.
‘Stay here. With me.’
She just wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down again. Kissing him. Initiating a kiss for the first time in her life. For both that was enough answer. She did not know what to expect with this fierce man deep inside native lands but she knew he was her friend and he was nice to be with. He was the only one she trusted in the world.
The sheik slowly untangled them. ‘Come Habibti we have to talk to the captain.’
Both walked back to the room where the two soldiers were patiently waiting drinking their tea.
‘Please explain to me,’ said the sheik to Le Brun in Arabic with him translating that in French to O’Shea who translated that into English for Mary. ‘If I would marry Lady Mary how can we make sure her country will recognise that marriage? And if she would like to go to her own people after that and I gave her a divorce would that still work?’
Le Brun explained that if they would marry with some army officers as witnesses and all written down in a document with proper stamps and signatures he could not see a way around it for her English family or guardian whoever they might be. That it would result in Mary being able to sell the farm in Rhodesia as long as her Arab husband agreed. That a divorce would be a huge scandal but that the marriage to a native would already be a scandal but that she always could say on returning to England that she was a widow.
Diplomaticly he also explained that a marriage to for instance one of his soldiers would not do as it would be a bond for life not desirable to forge just to get rid of a guardian.
He had to stifle a grin when he saw their shocked faces. They both might think this whole idea of marriage was to solve a problem but to the old captain it was obvious that both could not think of any other marriage then one to each other. Ah well, the girl was a sweet young thing and the sheik a good chap for an Arab. Who knew what would happen to her when they did not marry and she might like living as his wife.
Then something came to his mind. ‘Sheik do you already have wives? As a marriage will only be regarded valid when she is your first wife.’
Mary looked bewildered. It seemed this thought had never crossed her mind thought Le Brun.
‘No,’ said Omar. ‘The mother of my three daughters died many years ago and although I have no son and heir I could not make myself marry someone else. Amira will be my only wife if she wants me.’
All three men looked at her and she simply nodded unable to say a thing at first but then she asked, ‘How? When? How do people marry here?’
Omar explained that as the wife of the leader of the tribe and maybe the mother of a possible heir she had to convert to Islam to avoid discussions but that he would always allow her to pray to her own god in private. That she should express her desire to convert to the imam and that Omar himself would teach her to read the Koran as he would tell the imam. That they both really should do that as he was no liar but if she decided she wanted to keep her own religion in her heart he would never ask what she really believed.
Then they would ask that same Islamic cleric to perform their marriag
e with Le Brun and 8 of his soldiers as witnesses besides the 3 men who had travelled the desert with them as he wanted to include them as honoured friends. But as her brother had just died they could just pass on a big wedding feast and he would just hand out meat to his tribesmen to celebrate their wedding.
Le Brun said that he would take a certified copy of their wedding contract and a witness statement that she was alive but her brother had died back to the coast to hand over to the British embassy.
‘Tell them that Amira and I will come to them with the next caravan in a few months time.’ said Omar.
The men said goodbye for the night and Omar walked Mary back to the private quarters so he could do and tell his mother and daughters before dashing into the night to warn the imam. But in the dark hallway he halted Mary and pulled her hands in his. ‘Amira, when we go to the coast and you want to go just tell me. But if you want to stay you stay.’ Before she could answer he called for his mum and explained there would be a wedding in the morning. The elderly lady cupped Mary’s face and kissed her on both cheeks and then make an ululating noise to show how happy she was. Omar’s daughters were already in bed and would be told in the morning.
Omar left to pay a house call to the imam and Mary went upstairs to his bed. When he came home she just snucked in his embrace and went back to sleep.
-.-
Somehow Le Brun must have told Omar that lady Mary would always have dreamed of a wedding in a white dress with a long veil as English brides wore, because in the morning a lovely white native dress was waiting for her. Omar’s mother pinned a long veil over her hair and face and adorned it with a string of coins and baubles. Although veiling was not so strict in the oasis as it was practised in the coastal cities for a marriage in the local mosque it was a tradition. Omar’s grown up daughter brought a set of armbands as a gift. She did not know how to tell the foreign girl she had sensed her father’s wishes on meeting Mary but had decided at least to show she was happy for her father. The young girls were just bouncing around. The women waved Mary off and went to prepare for the bridal meal.
Omar looked regal in his best cloths accompanied with his trusted men wearing their bests. The French soldiers all shining buttons. The whole village came to cheer on their lord who had been a man of sadness all the time since his beloved wife had died. The people were curious to see that foreign one he had found in the desert.
The ceremonies were brief. One sentence was enough to make her a fellow Muslim and as for the wedding she just had to say she agreed on the wedding contract. No kissing the bride.
On return to the house the men and women enjoyed a separate meal and then Omar came to claim his bride. They walked up to his room and suddenly Mary’s mouth was dry. She had slept in his arms for weeks but Le Brun had told her that the Arab’s expected a man to sleep with his wife and show proof of virginity to the guests.
With the door closed and alone in their bedroom they just stood there looking at each other.
‘Habibti you are so beautiful. But if you are not ready I will cut my leg and show that blood.’
What a dear man he was. He was always thinking of her. She wanted to make him happy. She had no idea. No woman had told her what to do. But she realised how he had kissed her nipples when he was only half awake. So she just walked over to him and moved both his hands to her breasts still covered in her veil and her dress. Then she felt the urge to see him. She had only caught glimpses of him when he had been swimming with her or even when he had pleasured her in his bed as she had been to shy to take a good look. But now he was her husband and hers to behold.
So she bent down and started to lift his robe. She noticed how still he stood. The look of concentration on his face. She raised the garment and obediently he raised his arms so she could lift it over his head, bending down his tall frame so he was in her reach.
Now he was just in a set of trousers. She looked at him. The skin on his breast that was always hidden from the sun just a little less pink then hers. His muscled chest covered with a dusting of silk black hair that trained down to his groin like his arms while his back was smooth. She moved her hand over his skin touching the soft fur around his nipple and she noticed how his muscles trembled. She could hear his breathing catch. She looked up and smiled. He bent down to kiss her but before he was able to she was untying the cord that held up his trousers, slipping them down his legs. She admired his chiselled thighs and calves. Obediently he stepped out of the trousers.
From the floor she looked up at his face but her view was obstructed by something jutting out. She felt herself turn purple. She had never seen a man naked let alone aroused. She was afraid of that big thing but on the other hand so fascinated that she wanted to touch it and find out how it would feel in her hand.
She sat herself on her knees and started to stroke his legs. It seemed that the area around the knee was itchy. Omar was making a moaning sound and started to twitch his leg. The ‘thing’ also bounced. The hairs on his thighs were more coarse then how the ones on his chest had felt. More wire then silk. She could feel the muscles under his skin.
Now she was facing his rod. A small drop of moisture had formed on the tip of his circumcised dick. Not that Mary would have know the difference. She reached out with one finger and stroked it. Omar was making that sound again. She wanted to feel it in her hand and her fingers folded around it. She could feel it bounce in her fist. The top was so soft and still the inside of the thing felt like made from iron. Somehow she had always envisioned those things to look like breakfast sausages but this thing was hard and less round and less smouth. She could see veins it it and she traced them with her finger. It felt warm.
‘Oh Amira,’ pleaded her husband. His hand encircled her fist and moved her hand along his shaft. Oh so he liked it when she would stroke it? Experimenting she copied his movements but then all of a sudden decided she would kiss him there where he enjoyed her touch so much. So she bent towards his rod and kissed him on his tip. Unable to stop himself he trusted it against her lips slipping the top in her mouth. Her tongue met him there and she saw his face turn into a vision of delight. But she was at a total loss now.
She grabbed him again with her hand and looking up at him said, ‘Omar I do not know what to do. What do you like?’ He just put his finger in his mouth and started to suck on it while moving it in and out. She got it. Inserting him again in her mouth she started to suck on him while moving her lips all over his shaft, playing with it with her tongue, her hands stoking his sack. She could hear him starting to pant and it felt as if this rod of him was getting even more hard.
All of a sudden he withdrew himself from her and for a moment she thought what she was doing was not good enough but then he lifted her onto his bed. Only later she would learn that if he had waited he would have come in her mouth. Bending down over her fully clothed figure like a naked statue. Her veil was moved away from her face and his mouth landed on hers. Now it was Mary whose breath was catching in her throat. His tongue invaded her while his hands removed her veils from her hair and face.
Almost reverently he sat up on his knees and unbuttoned her dress all the way to the hemline baring her chest, belly and legs. His kisses following where his hands went.
‘Habibti, je t’aime,’ he breathed in her ear in his mixture of French and Arabic when his lips had trailed her whole body from top to bottom and back again. So he called her beloved and told her he loved her? A warmth blossomed in her chest. She realised she loved this bea
utiful son of the desert too. Her fear of what was to come evaporated wit her realisation how she wanted to give herself to this friend, this saviour, this man who had opened his house and his heart to her.
She wanted to hold him, feel his skin against hers and she tried to get rid of her weddingdress that was now just hanging from her arms. He lifted her simply out of it and discarded it to the floor.
Back on her back on the bed she tried to drag him into her arms. He laughed and kept saying ‘Yes, yes, yes’ sprinkling her with kisses while smiling. His hand moved to the apex of her thighs and caressed her secret places again like he had done yesterday. She heard herself moan.
‘Amira, please open your legs for your husband. I want to be inside you,’ Omar pleaded with his lips around one of her nipples. She felt his hardness against her thigh.
Her hands stroked through his long curls with his head there on her chest and she opened herself up to him. Nothing had prepared her for that glorious feeling of his rod entering her. The first inch made her want to have more and she moved her hips to drag him in. He did not need any encouragements but knew she was his virgin bride. Even thoroughly wet and aroused she might feel the pain of being deflowered. So he wrapped his arms around her back and bit down on her neck and when she was distracted by that he pushed himself inside her.
He felt her tense up and heard her small scream of pain. ‘Shhhush Habibti sshhhh,’ he comforted her stroking her hair and keeping his penis perfectly still so her body could adjust to being stretched. He could feel the sting of where her nails had dug into his back. She felt so good, so tight, so his alone.
Mary tried to breath trough the sharp pain noticing it was getting less and less fast. She felt Omar deep inside her. Her insides felt stuffed, pressure on her hips and on her backbone. The intimacy of another human being deep inside her and all around her.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘Yes it does not hurt anymore,’ she whispered.
He started to move inside her now. Slow movements that made her feel all tinkly inside. She felt the need to push her legs up to her chest opening herself wider, feeling his touch more. His hand moved to one of those legs and moved it up on his back. She placed the other one below his buttocks too.
His strokes got stronger and she moved her hips in the rhythm helping him slip up and down in her channel. Dragging him in with her muscles. Her body tightening around him. His thrusts pushing her on and on. A shout escaped her and she let go feeling him shudder inside her, the warm gushes of his semen making her shudder again.
He collapsed over her. Their bodies still joined. So now she was a woman. This man’s woman. She turned her face towards his head and whispered ‘Je t’aime, Omar mon marie’. He reached out and brushed her damp hair from her face. They fell asleep still one.
–+–
Six months later a tall Arab caravan leader halted his camels in front of the British embassy on the coast. The leader and – to the surprise of the guards – a woman crouched their camels and walked up to the gate. ‘What does that camelfucker want here,’ one of the guards whispered under his breath. To his horror the veiled lady answered in upper class British accent: ‘He is the husband of Lady Mary Westlake and he wants to speak to the ambassador. Be so kind to open the gate for us.’
The man ran inside the building to inform Sir Hubert someone wanted to see him that looked Arab but insisted she was an English lady. Ushered into the room the ambassador looked at two natives and was about to send them away again when the woman dropped the long white haik cape that covered her like a Roman ladies garment from centuries past and loosened the veil covering her face. To his surprise two blue eyes and a mass of blonde hair emerged.
‘Well well my dear who might you be?’
The tall man said in English: ‘She is my wife. I found her in the desert alongside a downed aircraft after I had stumbled upon her dead brother. We sent words to you by Captain Le Brun that she is still alive.’
Anastasia
- 15.11.2020
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