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Tarek was a Lebanese-German who worked for an advertising-marketing company. He didnít live in the United States, but his work took him to many places, most specifically the Middle-Eastern region. He was a dominant chap, who spoke very good English, and impressive French. He was wealthy enough that he would go anywhere whenever his work eased up, and I would meet him wherever he was. He was quite a looker, but it wasnít what made him stand out. It was his demanding nature, and I liked my men that way.

The arrangement was very simple. He and I werenít committed to each other. I spent three weeks in United States, where I resided. And on the fourth week, I would spend it with him. This happened when he was working in Qatar.

It wasnít the fourth week yet, and I received a call from him ordering me to go to Qatar. My work bought my Ďemergencyí excuse. One day later, I was in Doha looking for his suite. An old servant opened the door for me, and with her broken English took me in. I looked around this new suite, it was of course, so-Tarek. Everything was brand new. I made myself comfortable in his bedroom, took a shower, and unpacked my one week's worth of clothing.

Evening came, and Tarek got home. I was the one who greeted him first, but I received a cold look from him, which puzzled me.

"So, whatís wrong with you?" I asked timidly, in my South African-Asian accent that supposedly soothed him.

He didnít reply, but went on to take off his tie, and loosened his shirt. He didnít say a word to me. O, fine, I didnít go there for drama. It was actually quite mind-boggling, because he was never into histrionics.

The maid called for us, as supper was already prepared. So he and I sat, and we began eating in utter silence.

I was glaring him here and there, and he saw me doing that, but there was no reaction from him. So I said, "Well, this is so stupid!"

"What is?" he asked, coldly.

"You! Not talking to me! O, Allah, what sin have I committed now?" I sneered.

"Nothing," he flatly said, "Eat."

I sighed, "Why do I feel I was 'summoned' here? Iím not scheduled to be here, yet!" I yelled, "And when are you ever going to the US? Why is it always I, who have to sit on a plane to see you in an Arab populated place?"

"If you donít want to be here, leave tomorrow."

"You have a German Visa, you can go to the United States." I persisted.

"I donít want to go to the United States..."

I cut him off, "O, that's right. I forgot. Youíre an anti-American. That's right. You're a communist, well for someone who is a communist, you sure donít live like one." I rolled my eyes, "I mean look at this place. You'd be living in a hut in some desert."

I stopped talking when the maid came in to serve tea. Still, he kept quiet.

I waited for an answer, nervousness started growing inside me.

He shot me a frigid look, "Darling? If I want your opinion, I wont ask you."

He said his words very slowly. I knew he was angry about something. I knew I hadnít done anything wrong.

He called for the servant in Arabic, she bowed her head, and I knew she was being dismissed for the day. "Did you just ask her to leave?" I asked.

"Did I tell you talk?" he snapped. "Eat."

I couldnít eat, I played with my tea, as I watched him calmly having his supper. The atmosphere was indescribable, it was though I threw a rock inside a well. And I was sitting there, waiting for the sound of the rock hitting the bottom.

He put the table napkin down and cocked his head at me, and I knew he was done eating. "I called you two nights ago," he said.

"A man picked up the phone. I called your house. It would have been 2am."

I cracked up in a chuckle, "That's ridiculous. You got the wrong number."

"The man said you were asleep, and offered to wake you up, I didnít want to disturb your beauty sleep." There was apathy in his voice.

"Someone was messing with you, it's impossible!" I fumed, and shook my head, "What a crock of shit!"

Tarek quickly got up, and grabbing the table cloth, everything on the table fell to the floor, the noise was a mixture of glass breaking, and silver clanging on the floor. I sat there shocked, and the servant rushed in. He yelled at the servant to leave.

I looked at the mess on the floor, felt the waste of expensive bone china, and I smirked to let him know I wasnít in the least intimidated. Then, he walked towards me, grabbed my throat and pushed me against the wall.

I started clawing him, creating red streaks on his chest and face, but it didnít phase him. He let go, "Who was it?"

"No one!" I shoved him, "And donít ever do that to me again!"

"Or what? You will call 911?" He let a little laugh, "Wrong geography, m'love."

I glanced at the stairs leading to the bedrooms, I was going to make a run for it, but as I reached the third step, he had grabbed my ankle and I got dragged down to the floor. He picked me up by my hair.

"Who are you fucking?" he asked.

I panted angrily, "You can beat me all you want, you psycho, but there was no one."

He pulled me close to him to kiss me. He shoved his tongue all the way down, and at first I pushed him, but I took his tongue and started sucking on it. We started to kiss heavily, forcefully. I pushed my body next to him, as we continued kissing. We kissed for a long time, I felt his cock beginning to bulge underneath his pants. I was getting hot inside.

Then, he pushed me away, and I banged my head on the same wall where he had held me by the neck.

"So who was he?" he asked again.

"You're playing!" I laughed nervously, turned my back against him to head to the stairs.

But still he grabbed me. I turned to face him, to kiss him in hopes to pacify him. But instead, he slapped my face. I was wearing shoes with heels, and my ankle bent and I fell to the floor in pain.

"Get up," he said. I tried getting up, but it took me awhile. To hasten my standing up, he yanked my hair up, and slapped me again.

I whined, "Tarek, stop. You are hurting me." I tried to stand up straight, he watched me writhe from the sprain on my ankle.

"Actually, I like you better like this. Watching the fear on your face, you look so much more, hmm. Docile?" The word was coated with pure sarcasm.

I aimed to slap him back, but he was quicker than I was, and I ended with my face on the dining table glass. When I lifted my head, I saw blood on the glass, relieved to see the glass about two inches thick, and I knew it was strong enough not to break.

The servant, once again, skittishly walked in. She looked very distress, and I began to cry. He admonished her, and she quickly left.

He looked at me, and shoved me more towards the glass table. When I couldnít help but lean awkwardly on it, he lifted my legs, and I was laid on the table. He ripped my blouse, the buttons fell from their threads. He watched my breasts for a few seconds, my tits hardening under his sight. He grabbed my right breast, "Who has been holding these?" he seethed.

I didnít reply, I swiped the blood off my nose. His face fell on my chest, he started squeezing them hard, and he took to his mouth my stiff tits. He bit, and I moaned in pain. He started sucking them, fondling them roughly. I moaned in both pain and pleasure. He was on top of me, and I reached for his crotch. But he pulled himself from my grasp. He kept licking my tits, I felt his urgent tongue, and I thought and felt about it more, than I knew I was getting wet.

"Let's go to bed," I pleaded.

He tore my blouse, and it fell on the floor. He parted my legs, lifted my skirt up, and took my underwear off.

"Tell me, " he leaned towards my face, "tell me...whose cunt is this?"

"Yours." I replied, panting in anger that he could see my pussy was wet, swollen, and eager to fuck.

He opened my legs as wide as he could, and stepped back to look at it. I felt he was "inspecting" my cunt. "You are so wet."

He looked at me, "drip more."

I laid there quietly, submissively. And he stood at the end of the table looking at my pussy. I was breathing hard, dazed, turned on, confused. I felt my pussy ooze juice.

"That's it," he smiled, "More."

"I cant do this, Tarek!" I hissed. He kept my legs apart forcefully.

"Spurt more," he said.

I couldnít give him the satisfaction, even though I wanted to be fucked badly. He called for the servant. I was in utter disbelief. She came in quickly before he could even finish the Arabic he was spewing. I didnít see her, but she returned immediately with a wine bottle.

I was naked on the table, with just my skirt pulled up to mid thigh, my legs open with him in between, he inserted two fingers. I moaned in pain.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Fuck my fingers," he said in a daze. His fingers reached deep inside, he seemed to massage all the walls, curving his digits as he felt my g-spot. "Is this it?"

My pussy started gush. I started moving around, and he pinned my shoulder down. "Yeah," I heard him moan. He slid his fingers in and out my pussy, and I was close to orgasm. The wine bottle was placed within his reach, it was open.

He covered the opening of the bottle with his thumb. He was breathing fast and hard as I was. I groaned to what I knew what was going to be next. He pushed the wine bottle inside me with his thumb, and then he let go. He started pumping my pussy with the bottle.

I felt the wine spill inside my cunt. He kept sliding it in and out. I moaned as he grind the bottle up to all I can take of it. The wine ran down from my pussy to the table. He took the emptied bottle, and started thrusting his tongue inside my cunt. I wriggled in pleasure. I moved my waist to feel everything, his nose, his hot breaths, the licks and bites on my pussy lips. I felt my hole throbbing, he licked up to my clit, as he pushed his fingers in. I moaned as I was about to cum. And when I came, I gushed more syrup for him.

He quickly took his pants off. I saw his purple head throbbing, his cock thick about two inches in diameter. The thick shaft was sticking with length ready to fuck his slutty hurting cunt, and I sighed, "fuck me."

"Has anyone been inside this pussy?" he asked.

"No. Fuck me." I begged.

He teased my hole with his large head. He rolled only his head around my wet pussy. Then he slid it inside, I took the massive cock in despite I was so sore. I moved around his pole, inviting it to slide in. He started pumping, licking my tits and touching my skin all over, his tanned arms contrasted the whiteness of my thighs, I kept moaning.

"Have you fucked anyone?" I asked, in between his thrusts.

"No, my balls are filled with cum," he whispered. His cock had much equal force as he did, it seemed to break all over my walls. I was really getting fucked hard, he pulled me towards the edge of the table, as my body was moving towards the center.

"You're pussy is too wet." he frowned, and pulled himself out.

"I know."

"I can't cum, make it tight." He put his long cock back in, I squeezed my muscle, but I was only spurting more wine and pussy cum.

He looked down at my snatch. I didnít know what and where his hands were, but I gasped as he pushed a finger inside my ass. He reached for more wetness that was all over and pushing them along with two fingers, and I squirmed. He kept his fingers in and told me to relax, "Just feel it, baby. Feel it nice inside your ass."

He reached over to kiss me, "Give me this."

I nodded. He gently asked in French, "I need to break into your ass tonight. Let me?" My silence meant a yes.

He wiggled his fingers and asked me if it hurt. It felt odd, it tickled, making my cunt wet. He asked me to get on the floor. Aching but curious, he lifted me from the table, and I without taking my eyes from his huge cock, I went on fours on the floor.

He knelt behind me. His fingers slid all over my thighs, to get all the fluid that poured, and he started poking my ass. "Promise, it wont hurt." I could feel my ass was wet and ready. "Iím ready for your cock," I said quietly.

"Your ass wants my cock now?" he asked, breathing hard, pushing just the head that had mushroomed into violent purple. I screamed, bit my lips in agony.

He slid it in slowly, my ass was so tight, it squeezed his huge cock, but at the same time I groaned in pain. He seemed to have difficulty sliding it out, so he grinded on my ass, shaking my whole body. He held my waist, his cock stuck, only moving barely few inches in and out. He reached for my puddled twat, fingered it. With his fingers in pussy, and his cock on my ass, I was burning in orgasm.

"Iím gonna cum. Fuck your slut.Ē

"Yes, you are a whore.Ē

He shook my body, as my tight ass held on to his cock, milking it with all that cum he had kept in the many days.

"Gonna explode. Your ass is squeezing me good."

My pussy lips sored more, as he kept beating my pud over and over, and I felt sex sensations creeping all over my body as I came.

I felt his head engorge and splatter cum inside my ass. He kept it inside as I kept still, not moving at all. He stroked my hair and my neck, "So fucking tight. Did you like that?"

He pulled his limp dick out easily, crawled next to me, and I turned over to lay by him and he said, "Your cunt and ass are mine."
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