Free The Shiekh's Virgin Mistress by Jessica Brooke Page A

inside. I also noticed that I was still minutely bleeding.
    Omar came into the bathroom without knocking and I was still naked and toweling off.  I squealed, and then remembered he’d already seen me naked, and I soon forgot my bashfulness.  He stalled and stared at me.  He was in a robe, which had opened a few inches in the front.  “Let me see you.” He commanded.  I stood up straight and faced him, my towel dangled at my side, my chest heaved.  He licked his lips and made a sound of intense appreciation. 
    He made a motion with his chin, and I looked down the line of his body, and my gaze stalled at the view.  His impressive cock had lifted and was now jutting up and out of the robe, and it was entirely pornographic and obscene.  My body reacted by tightening and clenching, and I gasped.
    He spread his robe and fondled himself, my entire body salivated.  He said nothing, and we did not touch, but I watched as he masturbated to the sight of me and my nakedness.  The thought that just looking at me could do that to him, rendered me yet again from the inside out.  I held my breath.  He rubbed himself harder and with more urgency.  His heavily muscled thighs quivered as his broad palm fisted that impressive cock.  I was riveted by the sight of his big wrist and the way the tendons in his forearm moved in time with what his hand was doing between his legs.
    I’d felt that hardness, and the night before I’d seen him cum, but the room had not been this well-lit.  Now I could see everything, and maybe it was because I wasn’t quite as shocked, but I began appreciating his virility and his display.  I took it as a massive compliment, and I hoped that was how he intended it.  My cheeks stilled burned from a combination of embarrassment and arousal.  How this kind of thing could do so much to me physically, was beyond me, but I was once again part of him, and with him, and fully involved in the inferno that was Omar. 
    I wanted to be burned by his greatness, I wanted to be consumed by his fire, and I let my towel fall from my hand, and put my hand to my own pussy.  I rubbed my clit and I stood before him, unashamed and once again ready to take him into me.  I wanted him like I’d never wanted another, or anything else.  No other desire had ever commanded my body like this need I now felt for the Arabian Prince, Omar.
    I parted my lips and breathed, “Omar.”
    Omar cupped his heavy ball sack with his other hand and massaged himself, as his right hand stroked up and down the glistening skin of his cock.  I stood mesmerized, slowly rubbing my index finger over my clit.
    He grunted and I saw his abs ripple and tighten and the shiny helmeted crown of his cock engorged further, straining and expanding. Omar took the two big steps necessary to reach me and he went down on his knees. He pushed my hand aside and kissed my pubic line and then licked at my clit, which began throbbing.  He looked up at me, “You were a good girl to shave for me.  Your pussy is perfection and I wish to taste your nectar yet again, I cannot deny myself your sweetness.” I noticed he was still fisting his erection and rubbing himself.
    He ran his hands up the back of my thighs and pulled me to his mouth.  My skin was still damp and warm from the shower, but his lips felt like hot, molten lava as he lathed across the top of my cleft.  He pulled my ass cheeks apart and then in frustration, he slid closer and with his upper arms, he spread my stance.  Then he buried his face in my legs, gluing his lips to my soft folds, and he licked up the expanse of my pussy entrance. He sucked and bit and his hands re-found my butt cheeks and he massaged and palpated it.  Then just as quickly, he departed . 
    I moaned and fought to stand upright.  “You taste like honey.” He returned to my clit and forcefully suckled it into his mouth, I almost crumpled on the spot, and then he bit it, and nibbled on it and we both felt it fill and lift