Chapter 5

Posted: August 18, 2006 - 10:07:01 am?

Yes, hashish was the crop that afforded Abu Bakr al Hassan the wherewithal to have such a well-appointed house and four wives. Hashish was Hassan's cash cow, the source of the ready cash he needed to conduct other criminal enterprises; enterprises that mainly involving smuggling. Unbeknownst to his wives, Hassan was nothing he pretended to be; for one thing, he wasn't even Iraqi. For another, his real name wasn't Hassan. Hassan had trained his wives in the production of the hash, and their skill at hand-separating the pollen from the buds was what made his product valuable and superior.

Basheera and Jamilah knew the hashish traders were a mean and thuggish lot that would simply take the processed hashish from them if the traders knew Hassan had disappeared. However, if Neeko stood in place of Hassan, the smugglers would have to deal with him. The women had been near desperation before Neeko had given them the gold, because Hassan handled the money in the family and had left them near penniless.

Jamilah jumped at the chance to give her ideas on how to keep Nick with them as soon as Basheera gave her the opening.

"We could make him our husband," she said firmly.

The other three wives looked at her in shock. Tahani spoke first.

"He is an infidel. Have you not heard of their perversity?"

"He is a man," Jamilah replied, "an intelligent and caring man. I believe that his lovemaking would reflect that. Yes, he is a nonbeliever, but he seems to respect our beliefs. Is the thought of him as our husband so repugnant?"

Her eyes swept the other women as she asked the question. Tahani looked at her wide-eyed, but it was Basheera and Fatima's reaction that caught her attention. Fatima was looking down at the table blushing furiously, while Basheera was looking everywhere but at Jamilah. Finally, Basheera looked at her and spoke.

"Neeko is a much better man than Hassan, I see that already. He would also be a much better husband for us, I think." Basheera's cheeks turned pink but she continued. "I think he could also provide us what Hassan could not as far as making us feel good to be women."

Fatima spoke up then.

"He could give us babies, his zakar is mighty, so his inzal (ejaculation) must be potent," she said excitedly.

"Hmm, I guess some of us have thought about the possibility," Jamilah said with a smile.

The women agreed that Neeko as husband was the best solution, although Tahani was less enthusiastic than the other wives. Basheera said that she would talk to her daughters so they would share in making Neeko feel as if he were home in their house. Everyone knew that Adara would need no coaching; she was crazy about Neeko already.

I don't know if it was because it was the Islamic Sabbath or what, but the women treated me very well that day. It helped too, that the general feeling of well being I'd been experiencing showed up around midmorning. Adara and Jamilah even went light on the language lessons that day. Basheera's daughters came into my cell with my lunch. One had a pitcher of cold water and the other carried a plate of cut up fruit. Kalila and Zahrah weren't wearing their hair-covering scarves today so I complimented them on their beautiful hair. They had Basheera's coal black, waist length, thick and shiny tresses. They thanked me for the compliment but never cracked a smile as they put down my food and left.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked Adara.

Adara giggled at my confused look.

"You did nothing wrong, Neeko, but Zahrah and Kalila are of the age to marry so they try to act as if they are mature women. Every man they see is a potential Zawj (husband) so they must always be Hishmah (decent and modest)."

I nodded my understanding then leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips.

"Then I will have to give all my kisses to you," I said teasingly.

"A wise decision," Adara responded in mock solemnity.

After supper, Jamilah and I played chess while the other women bathed and the house settled down for the night. Shortly after nine, Basheera entered my cell. I was elated; it was shower time. Basheera walked up to me and reached for my wrist. She had the key in her hand as she said something to Jamilah.

"You will not try to leave, Neeko?" she asked.

I shook my head, "I will not try to leave."

Jamilah nodded and Basheera unlock the manacle. I was happy on two levels as the shackle slid off my wrist. For one, I was happy to be unfettered and headed for a shower; for another, I was pleased that the women asked for my word about trying to leave and took my answer as the truth.

Navigating the stairs was a chore, but I managed it. Basheera led the way and Jamilah followed me. It was much better going up them under my own power than it had been when the women carried me down. I was walking with the aid of the cane the women had brought me from the market the day before. I was leaning on it, but not as heavily as I thought I would be. I was definitely healing — and definitely happy to be out of my cell.

The Hassan bathroom was something out of 'One Thousand And One Nights.' The room was about twelve by twelve and was dominated by a semi-sunken tub covered in bright colored mosaic tile. The tub was big enough for three adults easily. The shower was a smaller enclosure covered in the same tile. As soon as I walked in the door the experience turned into something akin to a dream. Instead of the shower I had expected, Basheera led me to the tub that was half filled with water.

"A nice soak will make you feel better, Neeko," Jamilah said as she slipped out the door.

I figured Basheera was going to stay with me even though I gave my word I wouldn't try to get away. The thought of lying in the water was appealing as hell so I shrugged and started stripping. In less than a minute I was stretched out in the tub. The water was on the warm side of tepid and felt wonderful. I had my eyes closed, luxuriating in the experience when I heard the door open and close. Thinking it was Jamilah, I turned my head to wisecrack about her joining me and there stood Kalila and Zahrah.

The daughters of Basheera were wearing veils over their flowing abayas, but I knew who they were. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Basheera knelt by the tub, motioned for her daughters to do the same, and then started bathing me. I was not as embarrassed as I thought I would be when, once again, one of the widows was using me as a training aid.

The daughters of Basheera not only shared her ebony hair, they also had her eyes. Basheera and her girls' irises were so dark their eyes appeared to be all pupil. Of course with them wearing veils, all that was visible were those smoldering, expressive eyes. Those beautiful orbs got a work out as the girls looked at my body and listened to their mother. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy the hell out of having three women bathe me. I sprung a woody as they worked their way down my torso, my dick levitated out of the water as if it was a periscope. Basheera nonchalantly latched onto it as if it were hers, then started showing her daughters their way around an erection. I was embarrassed but not enough to lose my erection; Basheera's soap-slippery, slender fingers felt way too good for that to happen.

Basheera was giving quite a drawn out explanation, turning my dingus this way and that as she explained my foreskin. She encouraged her daughters to touch it. Just as Kalila's tentative hand neared it, I tightened my stomach muscles and made it move. She squealed and jerked back her hand. Basheera and I both cracked up.

The sudden lurch of Neeko's zakar startled Kalila, and made her reluctant to touch this strange organ. When it became apparent that her daughter would not explore it of her own accord, Basheera grabbed Kalila's hand and placed it over the foreskin-shrouded tip. The frightened girl attempted to withdraw her hand, but Basheera held it firmly in place and spoke soothingly.

"Do not fear it, my daughter. It will not harm you to touch it. Take it into your hand and feel its warmth..." Basheera whispered as she slowly began to move Kalila's hand over Neeko's turgid shaft.

As the girl began to lose her fear, it was replaced by curiosity. She began to gently explore Neeko's manhood of her own accord. Basheera released Kalila's hand and retracted Neeko's foreskin.

"Look at this, my daughters," she said, running her fingers over the velvety soft crown of Neeko's now exposed helmet.

"Touch it and see how soft it is... like the finest of silk!"

Kalila ran her fingers over the soft crown and moist inner lining of Neeko's foreskin. Her mother was right... it was very soft. The moist inner lining of the foreskin reminded Kalila of something more intimate than silk... something she often rubbed when laying in her bed at night. The thought made her nipples grow erect and the tingle in her nether regions intensified.

Kalila attempted to wrap her hand around the shaft, but its girth was so great, her small hand could not completely encircle it. She tried to imagine being penetrated by such a large organ, and concluded that her faraj was simply too small.

"Go ahead, Zahrah, feel it for yourself!" Basheera urged her other daughter.

Zahrah slowly reached out and touched a man's zakar for the first time. She found it surprisingly warm to the touch, and just as her mother had said, the helmet and inner lining of the foreskin were soft and silky. Zahrah took the sensitive foreskin between her thumb and forefinger, and pulled the fleshly sheath upward, making it cover the tip of Neeko's zakar. When she reversed direction and retracted it, Neeko had to suppress a moan of pleasure. Again and again, Zahrah manipulated it, unaware that she was bringing Neeko dangerously close to ejaculating.

As Zahrah's fondling of Neeko's manhood continued, his excitement intensified. He could no longer suppress his pleasure, and began to moan. His penis was now throbbingly hard, and droplets of pre-ejaculate began to ooze from the tip. These pearly-white droplets did not go unnoticed by Basheera or her daughters. Neither girl realized the significance of the liquid, but Basheera certainly knew, and on impulse, she encouraged Zahrah to continue.

"You are making our Neeko feel very good with your fingers... you must not stop. Keep moving the outer flesh of his zakar!"

Zahrah dutifully continued to manipulate Neeko's foreskin, enraptured by the handsome man's long, thick shaft. His appreciative groans encouraged her to speed up her stroking motion, finally triggering Neeko's eruption. His scrotum suddenly tightened, and Zahrah felt the shaft pulse in her hand, just as jet after jet of thick, white semen shot into the air.

The astonished girl gasped at this unexpected flood of warm, thick liquid, and would have jerked her hand away, but her mother's words made her continue.

"Do not stop, my daughter! Keep rubbing his zakar until his flow ceases!"

By the time Neeko's orgasm had subsided, the back of Zahrah's hand was completely covered with his spunk. Zahrah released her grip and held her hand aloft to inspect this strange zakar liquid. It had a musky aroma, and felt thick and creamy when she rubbed it between her fingers. She held out her semen-covered hand towards her mother.

"Mother!" exclaimed Zahrah. "What is this white liquid that squirted from his zakar?"

Basheera smiled at Zahrah and answered, "It is his seed, and if Allah is willing, it shall bless us with sons."

Their mother's response both startled and mystified the girls. How could this man's seed bless them with sons unless he was to become the husband of their father's widows? They yearned to question their mother further on this matter, but Basheera shushed the girls and announced that their questions would be answered later.

Zahrah dipped her hand in the water to rinse off my semen. I really didn't understand more than a fraction of the conversation between Basheera and her daughters, but I surmised that it involved me. Both girls stayed in the bathroom and helped their mother dry me off. The toweling led to an explanation of my scrotum and the family jewels and some more touching on the girls' part. I could tell that the lesson was having as much of an affect on the women as it was on me; they were more brazen in touching me, and they were breathing faster. It seemed to me that Zahrah and Kalila were both disappointed when their mother dismissed them after I was dry

Basheera escorted me down to the basement. As soon as we were through the door, I swept her into my arms and planted a gentle, yet hungry, kiss on her lips. She stiffened in my arms for a second then kissed me back fiercely. I reluctantly broke the kiss and picked up my shackle and chain. Basheera regarded me for a moment, and then spoke in broken English.

"No leave?" she asked.

I shook my head. 'No leave," I replied.

Basheera was a little harder to coax out of her clothes than Fatima had been. She seemed embarrassed by her mature body but she certainly didn't have a reason to be. She was a slender, tallish woman, standing at least five-nine. Her body barely showed the results of bearing two children. Her breasts were on the plus side of medium and sagged hardly any. Her hips were well defined and her fine ass sat proudly upon long shapely legs. I told her in two languages just how beautiful I thought she was. Then I showed her by kissing every inch of her long lanky frame. She fought me a little when I carefully settled my face between her strong thighs, but the fight left her when I flicked her clit with my tongue.

Curious as to why their mother hadn't returned to their room after Neeko's bath, Basheera's daughters slipped silently down to the basement. Now, Zahrah and Kalila were peering through the partially open door of Neeko's cell, their mouths agape. They were slack jawed in wonder as they took in the sight of the big American with his mouth pasted to the faraj of their naked mother. Even more amazing to them, was the obvious enjoyment of their mother from the obscene attention. Their mother's passion was evident even in the pale flickering light of the candle, as she moaned and sighed in bliss.

Basheera was in bliss as Neeko made love to her with his talented tongue. She had heard of such things in the gossip at the market, but she had thought it was surely all nasty exaggeration. Yet the reality of it was even better than the rumor. Her hips bucked up of their own volition and she used her hands to draw him closer to her as her ardor soared. She cried out when she climaxed; her hips churned as she desperately pulled him up onto her. When he gently entered her, he remained motionless as his lips planted little kisses all over her face. When her orgasm abated he started a slow grinding motion with his hips that hers instinctively followed. As his stoke quickened and he started the climb towards his completion, he brought her along with him. They reached the peak together; when he tried to roll off her she held him in place with her legs locked around his hips. In her post coital haze, Basheera felt the first stirrings of love for a man.

Zahrah and Kalila slipped back to the room they shared with their mother, their minds and bodies aflame from what they'd just witnessed. They were also full of questions, both those unanswered from bathing Neeko, and new ones raised by what they had just witnessed. They talked to each other about it, and decided that Jamilah would be the best person to query.

On day nine my status seemed to have changed from prisoner to honored guest as the widows and their daughters treated me as if I were royalty. I gave Jamilah my word that I wouldn't try to leave and I was unfettered right away. I had the run of the house, although I pretty much stuck to the basement, where it was the coolest. I gave my word freely to the women about trying to escape, rationalizing that I wasn't in good enough shape to get far anyway. Truth be told, though, I was getting stronger, and could see myself at full strength in a week or so. What I'd do then put me in a quandary. Yes, I had an obligation to get back, but every day I felt more of an obligation towards these incredibly strong and brave women.

I tabled that line of thinking for the moment, and used my new status to find out more about the Hassan family. Jamilah was my major source of information, because even though I could converse with the women in fair Arabic now, some concepts took both languages to convey.

"Jamilah, tell me more about Abu Hassan," I requested.

She didn't hesitate a second telling me Hassan's incredibly lucky story...

Abu Bakr al Hassan had been a geologist working for Allied Petroleum in the late nineteen seventies. He was in charge of an exploration crew that was doing test drillings in this part of the Syrian Desert. The crew never found viable oil, but one well tapped into an artesian pocket of pressured water eleven hundred feet below the surface. The water column from the well formed a geyser forty feet tall. Hassan had the well capped and moved the crew on.

Abu Hassan claimed to be a distant cousin of the then Iraqi President Ahmed Hassan Bakr, and was a loyal Sunni and Baathist. When Saddam Hussein took over the government in 1979, Abu Hassan managed to finagle a large land grant that included the capped artesian well. Hassan spent eight years developing his property and building his house then he went searching for his first wife. In a village fifty miles from his farm, he found sixteen-year-old Basheera, a pretty young woman less than half his age. And so it went, as Hassan could afford it, he added more wives, in search of that elusive male heir.

The more I heard about Hassan the less I liked him. The man appeared to have been a petty tyrant who treated his wives poorly. I wasn't at all surprised to learn that the cell I was in was designed for their punishment. There was something about Hassan that also didn't jibe. It might have been from too many movies of the week about men leading two lives, but that's all I could think of when Jamilah said Hassan was gone every other month on 'business.' If you added the fact that the wives had never met any of his relatives, it was even more obvious. I mean the Iraqis were a clannish people with large extended families; it seemed impossible that a cousin of the former President would never have relatives visit.

Hassan had departed on one of his 'business' trips six months ago, right at the start of the war. He never returned, nor had he communicated with his wives in any fashion. As was customary, he had left them just enough money to make it through the month he was to have been gone. That is why the family had been in such dire financial straits. I listened to everything Jamilah said, but didn't comment. I thought they were much better off without him, yet I kept my opinions to myself. I guess it was then that I decided I would stay just long enough to help them get back on their feet.

My next questions were about Adara and her deformed leg. When I asked about it, Jamilah said Adara was crippled as a toddler when Hassan had accidentally run over her leg with a tractor. Jamilah said that Hassan had taken her to the doctor but the leg was damaged beyond repair. That piece of information clinched my jaw tight; no competent doctor would make a diagnosis like that on a crippling injury without some sort of consultation. I asked Jamilah if I could examine Adara's leg, not that I could repair it or anything, I just wanted to see the reason she limped so badly.

Adara's right foot was badly twisted inward and rolled over on its outer edge. Her gait had led me to believe she was club footed from birth. Since that wasn't the case, all the material needed for her to walk more normally was already available. Sure, it might take some superior surgical skills to meld the material into a better arrangement, but I was sure it could be done. I kept that opinion to myself also, though, because I thought the world of Adara and I wasn't about to say anything to give her false hope.

All day long Jamilah and I shared looks and touches whenever we were alone. We were strongly attracted to each other. Both of Basheera's daughters were giving me sidelong, inquisitive glances all day long and I even caught Tahani looking at me speculatively a couple of times. I had a wonderful supper of fresh vegetables, chicken and rice. When I insisted that we all eat together, I had seven smiles for dessert.

Bath time this night was much blander than the one before. Jamilah led me up to the bathroom then disappeared the same as the night before. There was no Basheera to wash my hair so I had to manage on my own. After my bath, I put on my green inherited boxers and went back to my cell. I was confused as to why I didn't have an escort, but where could I go in my drawers walking with a cane anyway? When I returned to my cell, I found where Jamilah had disappeared. She was laying on my sleeping pallet, wearing some sort of white satin slip that would have been at home in a Fredrick's of Hollywood catalog. The cell was dimly lit by a couple of candles and Jamilah looked as sexy as anything I'd ever seen.

"Come make love with me, Neeko, for we have waited long enough," she said.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 6