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He devoured me like a meal and him the hungriest man on the planet. I was on the brink of an orgasm, and I began gasping and pleading that he allow me to release. He pulled on my waist and dragged me over his body until I was straddling his hips with his hardness prodding into the skin at my thigh. He fisted his erection, holding it for me, and I slowly sheathed him inside my soaked entrance, “Climax for me, my sweet wife,” he ordered as I felt him jerk inside me.
“Good girl,” he said in a gravely tone as I continued to pulse inside of him.
“Turn around, goddess. Ride me,” he again commanded.
It took me much too long to navigate that kind of rotation without unseating him, but I managed, and soon I was leaning forward, gripping weakly at his massive ankles. He squeezed my plump behind and used its fullness to massage his shaft from this position. Then he lifted and pulled my bottom
up and down over his length until I took over and found a steady, sliding, gliding—erotic rhythm.
His hands continued to fondle and grip and massage me, and soon I had increased the rhythm until I was lifting and sitting back down over his body, bouncing against his groin and feeling the ripples of the action up through my plump posterior. He started making all kinds of pornographic sounds and before long was helping and thrusting up and into me with equal force.
His shaft grew heated, and I knew he was close. When he came, he pulled me down hard so that he was as deeply in me as he could physically get. The repetitive slapping of our bodies was oddly hypnotic, and I came so fiercely it was as if my insides had exploded.
When we were done, he pulled me backwards to drape uselessly over his chest. His heart thudded against my spine and hypnotized me into an odd, out of body moment where I wondered if we had become one. His arms wrapped around me, and he held one ripe tit in each hand. He kissed my nape and whispered in my ear how much he adored me and how incredibly satisfying I was. I felt entirely complete and sated.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was only a week before the big celebration and I had been going back and forth to our private groupings of islands. My mom was due to arrive this evening, and I was arranging with Yasmin on wardrobe for the planned week of festivities. We were hosting and housing over a hundred guests at the retreat that Omar had built only a few years prior. There was a small hotel-type resort with fifty rooms on the main island and bungalows and cottages were sprinkled out over the adjoining offshoot island croppings that would provide beds and rooms for another fifty guests.
My parents, Julie, Omar, and I were staying in our private home about a mile away from the main hall and boutique hotel. We’d employed two servants per guest and also had to provide transportation to and from the mainland as we rotated staff. All told, this was an unbelievable undertaking, and I had helped plan almost all of it, including the menus for every meal provided. Again, Omar seemed impressed, and I was pleased I had been able to take most of that responsibility off his shoulders.
I flew home in the chopper and prepared for my mom’s arrival. Omar joined me in the suite as I changed, and he commented, “Have your breasts grown?”
I giggled, “Yasmin says they have. You know I am putting on some weight, too. Are you sure you like me this way?”
He gave me that sexual growl he loved to use when he was most aroused, and I laughed at his expression of hunger, “You are even more luscious. I love your curves, and I love having a good handle when I need to hold you in place. Yes, of course I love you as ripe as possible. I will pluck your delicious fruit and suck out all your sweet nectar.”
“Oh my, Omar,” I gasped. “My body just reacted very badly.”
“Nonsense! There is nothing wrong with letting your husband arouse you.” He came to me and cupped my breasts, hefting them and jiggling them, “Yes, they are bigger. I like this very much.”
I sarcastically said, “You would know, you handle them more than I do.”
“Yes I do, and I now I must take you.”
I pushed on him in a weak attempt to thwart his advances, but since I was already half naked, there really wasn’t much I could do to dissuade him. My nipples had already puckered, and if he checked my center, he would find I needed no other foreplay. “My mom will get here any second,” I whined.
He gave me a lascivious grin, “Then I’ll have to be fast.”
I met my mom with flushed cheeks and a bit of a freshly messed up hairdo, but she didn’t seem to notice. We hugged and I commented on how vibrant she appeared. She looked at least ten years younger, and her eyes had a real sparkle in them. She informed me my dad was going to arrive in a couple days and that he couldn’t wait to walk me down the aisle and give me away.
Without preamble, she asked to see the soup kitchen installment, and I buzzed for our guards and a cars. On our way out of the building’s parking garage, there were a multitude of flowers and gifts left along the sweeping entrance to the building. “What is all that for?” asked my mom.
I wrinkled my nose and shrugged, “Omar tells me it is how the people show appreciation. He said it was for me and because of what I’ve already provided to them.”
My mom’s hand went to her heart and she exclaimed, “Oh dear, they adore you, Anna! Did you see how many there were?”
I again shrugged, but my cheeks tinted, “Yeah, I guess. All I care about is that the riots have ceased completely and Omar seems relieved. So, it’s all good.”
She put her hand on my thigh, “Because of you. I am so proud of you, Anna, you are an amazing adult.”
I leaned over and hugged her. “Only because you raised me right mom. I love you so much!”
We arrived in the ghetto area of the most lavish city in the world, and it seemed as if we’d driven to another planet. Instead of even a hint of hostility, though, we were met with greetings and appreciation and even a few proffered flowers as we walked through the gathered crowd waiting to eat. Armand was on my right and we were surrounded by ten of Omar’s best men, so I felt safe as I took my mom for the tour. Then we went to the sight where the planned ten-story housing development was to be constructed and she even looked over the initial blueprints and made comments and suggestions. Over all, she was impressed with how quickly we’d implemented so much and she again told me how proud she was.
Then we drove back to the skyscraper and had dinner and chatted with Omar. As my mom laughed at Omar’s jokes, I marveled at how changed she was. Later, after she was a bit drunk, she confessed that her and my dad had found a new passion in their relationship, one in fact that hadn’t even been there in the beginning. He often flew home to Boston to spend the weekends with her, and she even had plans to join him more often in New York. She confessed to me that part of her joy was simply that I’d found such immense love with Omar, and that made us both cry and hug.
The next day, I took her to the islands and showed her the private wing of the main house that she and dad would spend the following week in. She seemed a bit shocked at the opulence. I explained that Omar did it all the way, or not at all, and she needed to get used to living like the mother of a Queen.
