Chapter 16

Posted: August 30, 2006 - 10:05:00 pmUpdated: September 14, 2006 - 08:31:43 am?

Life was finally beginning to improve as the Iraqi Army and National Police took over more of the routine peacekeeping duties and the American Army concentrated on running down imported insurgents. Although it had never been a pressing issue out in the desert, the peace that was slowly emerging made travel easier and less risky. I noticed the improvements as Zahrah and I made our way towards Amman, Jordan to enroll her in college, because the trip only took a little over three hours. It took two days for placement testing and registration, but Zahrah ended up a coed at the University of Philadelphia - Jordan, twenty miles west of Amman. Her first academic term would be filled with college prep courses, basic math and sciences mostly, but she now possessed a road map towards becoming a teacher and had the study material to prepare her for her first semester.

Zahrah and I had a nice room at the Radisson Hotel for two more days, so we shopped a little and honeymooned some. Zahrah seemed to be enjoying sex more, but she sure wasn't in the same league as her sister. She seldom initiated sex and wasn't interested in returning my oral attention. She was a cuddler though, and enjoyed sleeping with me each night. She also enjoyed being in public as my wife. She was a very attractive young woman in her new abayas and colorful hajibs. In addition, she carried herself with the natural grace that seemed to be inherent in her family.

While we were in Jordan, I made some discreet inquiries among the Americans living there about getting documents establishing me as an Iraqi. I finally worked my way up to meeting a young computer whiz that had a flair for dreaming up identities and bringing them to life. He made copies of my birth certificate, driver's license and social security card, then took some passport type pictures of me. He also made copies of all the documents I had that once belonged to Hassan. I paid him a hefty twenty-five hundred dinar down payment, and he promised to have my new identity ready when I returned in two months.

Back at the farm, life continued at the easy pace that I loved. I was now attending market in al Warabi with Basheera one day a week. I liked the small town and the people I met there. They were honest and friendly folks, too busy scratching out a living in the harsh desert to bother with being bad neighbors. We were taking more vegetables and fruit to market nowadays, but were still selling out early in the day. The quality, freshness and price of our produce made us very popular with the owners of the town's three restaurants.

After our produce was sold, Basheera and I strolled the market, looking for good deals. There was no predicting what would be available on any given day. Watching Basheera shop was entertaining for me only because I wasn't the one having to negotiate with her. My senior wife gave new meaning to the term 'driving a hard bargain.' She calculated the price she was willing to pay for something and generally argued the seller down below it. If she couldn't get something for what she valued it at, she walked away. I think half the merchants were scared to death of her, while the other half loved trying to best her in making a deal.

Just shy of eight weeks after I took Adara in for surgery, a white Range Rover pulled into the yard about four in the afternoon. I walked outside to see who it was, when the passenger door opened and Adara jumped out. I started tearing up when she walked towards me with a completely normal gait. I just stood there and raptly watched as she swayed towards me. Her smile was huge and her eyes literally danced with happiness. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me with even more than her usual passion, right in front of everyone in the family. When I grudgingly let her break the kiss, she looked up at me, still smiling hugely.

"Your little desert flower is back, my husband, and all fixed up. What do you think?"

"I think you look wonderful and I am very happy you are home. How do you feel and why are you home early like this?"

"I feel very good, Neeko, my leg tires easily, but Aludra says it will get stronger as I use it more. The physical therapy went so well that I was released a week early. Aludra and Mother thought it would be a nice surprise to bring me home. Also, by driving me home, Aludra can see the farm and visit al Warabi."

I nodded my understanding and looked up just as Aludra and Jamilah walked up. They were both beaming at me, pleased that their little surprise worked so well. They both kissed me too, nice kisses but much less intense than Adara's.

That night, the newly improved Adara joined me in the harem room. After a two month sabbatical from sex, Adara was even more passionate than usual. When she finally realized that she couldn't coax another round out of me, we had been at it for almost three hours. I was glad Aludra was there, because I actually thought my tongue and dick both needed splinting. Adara must have cum at least twenty times, about half of them loud enough to raise the dead. When I dragged my carcass out to the main basement room to sleep, it was deserted. Adara thought it was just fine that we were alone, because she snuggled up next to me naked, with visions of letting me nap, then jumping my bones again.

The next morning I had to endure a ration of crap from my other wives and Aludra. I just hung my head as they went on and on about not being able to sleep in the cool basement because of Adara's screaming. Adara was proudly unapologetic as she told them to get use to it, because she had some major catching up to do. I cleaned up and had a couple of cups of coffee before taking Aludra into town to show her around. She thought as I did that a clinic here would be a good thing for the community. I showed her the two buildings I was considering renting, but she said both were too small and antiquated.

"What we need is a facility built from the ground up to be a regional clinic. Maybe we could get the Iraqi government to build it," she said.

"That would be nice, but I doubt if they'd build one just because we asked," I replied.

"You never know, Altair Hassan, if you marry me, the Ministry of Health and Education might build us one," she said.

"You already know I'd marry you in a heartbeat, but I don't know why that matters to the government."

"It doesn't matter to the government, but it probably would to the Minister of Health and Education. After all, you would be finally making an honest woman out of his daughter," she said.

As I stood there looking at her incredulously, she began to titter. "I'll bet if you knocked me up right away, he'd build you a hospital," she said with a giggle.

Aludra and I announced that we were marrying when we came home from town. Basheera, now the subject matter expert, cranked out a marriage contract in about fifteen minutes. My other wives then prepared Aludra for our wedding night, while I cooled my heels changing oil in the Kubota tractor. During the next couple of weeks, I was going to double the size of the date grove, so the tractor was going to get a workout. When they called me back in, I knew the drill. I showered alone and went downstairs to put on my Sultan costume. Jamilah was once again helping me dress. When I was all spiffed up, she gave me my last minute instructions.

"Remember, Neeko, that Aludra needs a firm hand, start your marriage off that way and you will not regret it later."

I wondered what I was getting myself into as I nodded and headed towards the door.

It turned out that I was getting into something extraordinary. True to Jamilah's prediction, Aludra wanted to dictate the terms of our sex life. I ignored her jabbering and turned her over my knee. Her squeals echoed off the walls as I reddened her cute little ass for her and set her back on her feet. It was an entirely different person standing before me rubbing her butt than I'd encountered when I walked into the room.

"There is only one man in the home of Altair Hassan, especially in the bedroom. Understand?" I said firmly.

"Yes, husband," she replied meekly.

I think she started climaxing while I was still clamping the shackles on her wrists, and didn't stop until I let her loose after a wild hour of sweaty jungle sex. She came the hardest when I ordered her to get rid of her birth control pills as I was pounding into her. Right before she fell asleep in my arms, she whispered sleepily into my chest. "I finally got it right," she sighed.

Aludra went back to Kuwait to settle her affairs three days later. She took Fatima and Tahani with her, so Fatima could have her baby in the hospital where Aludra worked. I had the skills necessary to deliver a baby, but not the equipment if anything went wrong. I figured why take a chance if we didn't have to. The morning that Aludra departed with Fatima and Tahani, Basheera and I moved Zahrah into the Philadelphia University dorm. We helped her set up her room and went to the local town to pick up everything else she needed. When we were sure she was comfortably moved in, I took Basheera to the Radisson and checked us in. Basheera was thrilled to be visiting somewhere besides al Warabi.

The next morning, I left her at the hotel while I went to meet with the fellow hooking me up with a new identity. As soon as I saw what he had done, I realized why he charged so much. The young man had done an amazingly thorough and masterful job. I now had official documents identifying me as Altair bin Saleem al Hassan, an Iraqi American born in Florida. My history even included correspondence to my 'father' from his cousin Abu Bakr al Hassan. I ended up spending over ten thousand dinar with the forger, but the final price included altering my passport to reflect my new name. The final item he provided me was a cheat sheet for me to memorize that summarized my new identity.

We stayed in Amman for one more day, then headed back to the farm. I would have enjoyed staying in Amman a few more days with Basheera, but I needed to be in Kuwait City in two days to be with Fatima during the final week of her pregnancy and the birth of our son.

My adventure came full circle when I stopped at the Iraqi border, presented my passport and stated my intent to immigrate back to the land of my ancestors. Basheera showed the guard her identification papers and explained that she was the widow of my cousin, and that I would be taking over the family farm.

The border guard touched the rim of his helmet in a salute of sorts and said, "Welcome home, Altair Hassan, may Allah bless and keep you."

Epilogue

It was three years ago that I crossed the Jordanian frontier as Altair Hassan for the first time. My family and I celebrate that day every year as our family day. I always spend some time in the morning reflecting back on my life as Altair, I am humbly thankful for all I have. Family day means a lot to my wives as well, because for us, family is everything.

I am firmly established as Altair Hassan now, complete with legitimate Iraqi documents and recognition as a returned citizen by the government. The disarray of the governing authorities in the early days and the loss of so much of the former regime's information helped the process, but Ahmed al Hatari, my father-in-law and Aludra's father, actually made it happen. Aludra wasn't kidding when she said that her father would do about anything for the man she finally married.

She wasn't kidding about the government building us a clinic either, although it took a grinding eighteen months to get it done. Ahmed agreed to the clinic idea as soon as I mentioned it on the day we met. I think I could have gotten him to agree to anything I asked when his daughter, demurely dressed in abaya and hajib, fetched us coffee when I asked her to. Of course, Ahmed didn't know that Aludra was putting on the obedient wife act just for his benefit. Aludra was a handful, no mistake about that, but she is a terrific doctor and administrator.

When we had the clinic up and running, Basheera took me to speak with the senior cleric of the local mosque, Faqeeh (expert on Islamic law) Jamal Abd al-Karim. I do not know why exactly, but Jamal and I hit it off right from the start. I took him for a tour of the clinic and told him of our ideas for treating the local population. Jamal's endorsement of the clinic insured that people used our services. I was very respectful in any dealing I had with Islam. I didn't become a Moslem, but I studied the religion so I could better understand its followers and not commit a faux pas that could get me lynched. I have to say that as in most major religions, the core values and teaching of Islam have merit, but like the other religions, when men start interpreting the Qur'an to fit their agenda I have to back away. Jamal and I had some lively debates about how interpretation leads to extremism.

The last three years has seen our farm become the benchmark for farming in an arid climate. We are even better now at converting every drop of moisture into something green. One of the documents we found in Abu Hassan's possessions was a list of locations in latitude — longitude form. Curious about the list, I bought a GPS receiver off the Internet and tracked them down. All five locations listed were sites of unsuccessful oil wells that had hit pressurized water. None of the wells had the pressure of ours, but they all pushed water out of the ground.

I gave four of the locations to the mosque to distribute, and applied for a land grant to incorporate the fifth and closest into our farm. The other well was the weakest of the five, but was only six miles from our house. With Jamal's blessing, our land grant was approved. We Hassans now had title on almost three thousand acres of rocky desert. It wasn't greed that caused us to claim the other well, it was caution. We wanted to make sure we had a secondary source of water in case our current well dried up. We shared our farming techniques with anyone who asked, the only secret we kept was our wells. There are now half a dozen operations similar to ours but smaller. We have cautiously grown to the point where wholesalers now visit us to purchase our crops. Basheera, though, still insists on taking produce to market two days a week for the local population.

I have to add here about me getting a camel for the farm. Yep, a desert herdsman gave me a camel as a present for saving his son's life and leg after the boy stepped on a 'toe popper' antipersonnel mine. I thought it was a great idea until I actually had to spend any time with the beast. I named it Clyde after the camel in the Ray Stevens song, 'Ahab the Arab.' My wives thought I had been in the hashish resin again when I tried to explain the song to them. I finally downloaded the song from the Net and played it for them. Same results, except Fatima loved it that she was the sultan's main squeeze and the 'sheik of the burning sand's' love interest. The thing that really pisses me off about Clyde is that it loves everyone but me. I mean around my wives the damn ornery critter acts as if it were a puppy, while if I get within ten feet, it spits at me. Jamilah suggested that it was because Clyde was a female and I gave her that stupid name; personally, I think the stupid fleabag is just evil.

So, I guess now is a good time to update you on my amazing family. Our unique plural marriage is still working; as a matter of fact, it works better than ever. We are an incredibly close and loving family, thanks to my wives. We are circumspect in public, still using the plan Basheera and Jamilah concocted. Our public face has me formally married to Kalila, Zahrah, Fatima and Aludra. Basheera plays my widowed mother-in-law; Jamilah portrays herself also as a widow and our domestic servant; she claims Adara and Tahani as her daughters. Tahani actually suggested that she play Jamilah's daughter. She knows, as do the other women, that convention be damned, they were all my wives.

Basheera is still the 'lady of the house.' She has grown into the job and is probably the most respected woman in al Warabi. Every action that Basheera takes is determined by what is best for our family; she is the center of the family as much as I am. I listen to all of my wives, but I have to admit that I take what Basheera says as golden. Basheera runs the household, and with Jamilah, manages the farm.

Besides managing the farm, Jamilah is the proud mother of our two-year-old son, Nasser al Hassan. Nasser is the Arabic word for victory, just as Nicholas is the Greek word for it. Jamilah is a forevermore-clever woman. Jamilah is a whiz at figuring out what crops we should plant; she has an excellent sense for timing our crops to maximize profit. Our operation is a moneymaking enterprise that allows us to live more than comfortably. Jamilah was also in charge of expanding the size of our house. She came up with the plan and supervised the construction with only a little advice from me. Our little desert palace is now about three thousand square feet. Not really that big if you think about the number of people living there, but still a marvel to our neighbors.

Fatima, who we affectionately call Umayma (little mother), is doing what she dreamed of all her life: having and taking care of babies. Besides our son Barakah (blessing) she has a one-year-old daughter we named Basheera but call Bee Bee. Fatima takes care of all our children during the day, and runs the daycare we had established at the clinic while the mothers were being treated.

Tahani works at the clinic as our office manager and fill in nurse. She is about six months pregnant, but refuses to learn the sex of the baby. She wants it to be a surprise to everyone, including herself. Tahani is still sweet and shy with a wild sexual streak. She often joins Jamilah, Aludra and me in the harem room for some serious romping.

Kalila graduated from nursing school just as we were opening the clinic. She is the best nurse I've ever met. Aludra is trying to convince her to go to medical school, but Kalila is happy right where she is. Kalila could still be a fashion model on any runway in the world. Kalila likes to wear western clothes when we travel because she looks so good in them. The travel thing is something I've been doing for two years now. Once a month I take one of my wives for a four-day trip to wherever they want to visit. The upside of this for me is how happy it makes my wives; the down side is that I've been to Disney World eight times so far. Although Kalila is well over the nineteen and a half age that I agreed the girls could get pregnant, she has shown no interest in having children yet.

Zahrah completed the two-year course in primary education with highest honors. She is currently teaching the equivalent of first grade in the al Warabi primary school. Zahrah loves teaching and is very good at it. She is continuing her education during the summers when school is out; she loves learning as much as teaching. Basheera told me that Zahrah is thinking and talking about babies more and more. She says she will be a grandmother within a year. If Basheera says it, I know it is so.

Aludra is — well Aludra is Aludra. If I ever thought I'd have a dull moment living out in the desert, Aludra made me forget that in a hurry. She can be the sweetest woman on the earth one minute and the biggest bitch that ever lived the next. Jamilah told me that Aludra was mostly that way so I'd spank her or chain her to the wall and have my way with her. It seemed like a strange way to get my attention, but I guess that was the way she was wired, because she had been so spoiled all her life. The one area where her conduct is flawless concerns our son, Ahmed Hatari al Hassan. Aludra is as good a mother as Fatima or Jamilah. Aludra was an only child, so little Ahmed is the only grandson of the Hataris. The money to expand our house was a gift from the Hataris to celebrate Ahmed's birth.

And finally there is Adara, my little desert flower. Adara completed her degree in business management earlier this year and is in charge of our business dealings. She also oversees our finances and manages our investments. The government subsidizes the clinic as well as Aludra's and my pay. That coupled with the profits from the farm and my disability check makes us comparatively prosperous. Adara is still the sweetest, sexiest and smartest woman I've ever met. Not only is she all that, but she grows more beautiful every day. I love all my wives and would take a bullet for any of them, but Adara and I share a love that is deep as the Grand Canyon. Oh, and she is as highly sexed as she was at fifteen. On the nights I spend with Adara, everyone else sleeps upstairs.

Like I said, I have a lot for which to be thankful. The life I lead isn't for most people and living it for only the sex wouldn't work for anyone, but my life suits me just fine. After thirty years of looking for something I couldn't even verbalize, I found where I belong. All because of a broken wire, on a two-dollar relay, on a billion dollar AWAC airplane. If this is indeed Allah's work as Basheera claims, he must still be laughing up his sleeve...

The amazingly talented Wet Dream-Girl conceived, co-wrote and edited this story.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl