Erotic – Hot Stories

June 10, 2010

Erotic Hot Stories – An Arabian Night

He shuffled into the room, eyes downcast. He was stripped to his waist and barefoot. The cool night air caressed his naked chest causing his nipples to stiffen. His state of undress made him nervous and only added to his confusion. Yesterday, he had been just an American on holiday in the Middle East. Then, for merely dared to look upon the sultan’s wife, he found himself a guest in the sultan’s dungeon. He found it almost laughable and absurd that dungeons existed in this day and age. He was given no contact with the American embassy. No representation whatsoever. He fell asleep, cold and hungry, fearing that the next day would be his last. He awoke in a lavishly furnished room with several other men. None of them would speak to him, if indeed spoke any English at all, and his Arabic was comical. They all just smiled at him and went back to their conversations. It was a little after nightfall when they came for him. Now, a hulking guardsman paced, bull-like in front of him, a wickedly glint to the pistol holstered on his belt. The American was starting to fear that his roving eyes would be his death sentence. The mammoth guardsman stopped and stood directly in front of him. He could almost feel the hatred in the guardsmen’s scowl. “Stand straight! Head up!”

He got his first real look at the room. The walls were adorned with tapestries and the floor was covered with giant cushions and pillows in shades of satiny red. Several candles cast the room in a mercurial flame hue and the air was laced with a sweet and pungent smoke wafting from several incense burners. A large table stood in the middle of the room set with fresh fruit and wine.

“Wait here!” With that final command the guardsman stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him. He immediately turned his attention to the table. Even through the heavy aroma from the incense, he could smell the fruit. The smell made his stomach growl loudly.

Looking around the room, he cautiously stepped to the table and grabbed a handful of grapes. He popped one into his mouth. The pale green orb burst spilling its sweet juices over his tongue. Immediately, he was ravenous and all rational though abandoned him. His hands picked through the fruit tasting it all. He poured a glass of wine and drained it in one gulp.

“Isn’t it considered polite to wait for a lady before you eat?”

He whirled around to see the sultan’s wife standing in the doorway. In his famished state, he had not heard the door open. The seething guardsmen stood behind her, hand on the handle of his pistol.

“You dare eat before the Mistress! Yankee dog! You will die for your indiscretions!” The guardsman strode forward, a murderous look in his eye, but the Mistress’ graceful hand caught his shoulder.

“Abdullah,” she said soothingly, “It is alright. You may leave now.” Despite his obvious disgust, Abdullah slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sultan’s wife watched the guardsman go and turned to face him. She was even more beautiful up close. He had only caught a glimpse before. Like him, she was American. She had fiery red hair, alabaster skin and luminescent green eyes. He had heard many stories of American women lured into the Middle East to populate the sultan’s harem.

Her sparkling eyes looked him up and down hungrily. He was taken aback by the pure lust in them, yet despite his apprehension, he could feel the stirrings of passion deep inside him. Her near transparent, red robes flowed in waves around her body. He could see the swell of her breasts swaying as she paced around him. Her smell was near overpowering. The aroma of the incense had all but disappeared. She smelled sweet, like the fruit he had just consumed. Now he was thinking of quite a different kind of consumption.

She stopped in front of him, standing close. She was shorter than he was and he could feel her hot breath on his chest. She looked up at him with her green eyes locked on his, a look of wanton desire on her face. He felt her graceful fingers trace up his side and over his chest, lightly grazing his nipple. She ran a finger along his jaw line to the corner of his mouth and then brought the finger to her own lips. Its tip glistened with the juice of hastily devoured fruits. She slipped the digit over her ripe lips and tasted the sweetness.

“Do you know why you are here?” He eyed the sultan’s wife suspiciously. He wondered if this was the part where he died.

“I assume it has something to do with my daring to look at you.”

“It was not just any look you gave me. You looked at me with hunger in your eyes…With lust.”

“And your husband took offense,” he finished. “I can see why. You are…breathtaking. But I have heard about the way he treats women. A beautiful woman is not a possession. She should be savored…worshipped.” She smiled briefly at him and then turned and walked to the table. Her fingers ran playfully over an apple, red as her full lips.

“Let me tell you something about the sultan. He adores me. It’s true, for…political reasons he must promote certain ideals publicly, no matter how barbaric they may seem, but in private, he treats me very well. He gives me anything I want. He gave me you.”

He stood in silent amazement. Slowly realization dawned on him. He would not die this night.

“I am here for…your pleasure then?”

“Yes,” she answered brazenly. “Your sole purpose is to fuel my desires. To feed my lust. The sultan loves me, but he alone cannot satisfy me. Can you?” As she spoke, the sultan’s wife poured herself a glass of wine. She lifted the glass to her ruby lips and sipped of the sweet nectar, all the while her eyes locked with his. He was suddenly aware of his near nakedness. Goosebumps covered his skin and his nipples were stiff in the evening air. He could feel the stirrings of passion in his groin and he was sure that she could see the affect she was having on him.

She circled him again. Her fingertips trailed across his back, her fiery touch sending shivers of desire through his body. He could feel his manhood growing. Her fingers teased across his shoulder and over his chest, winding through his dark chest hair, down across his stomach and then brushing lightly over his growing erection. It throbbed at her touch, and suddenly, he was painfully aroused. She smiled wickedly at him as her fingers hooked over the waistband of his pants. She pulled him to her. He could feel her insistent nipples graze lightly across his chest. He was so close to her he could feel her hot breath on his neck. Her hands were gently running over his body. Over his hips and up his side, over his chest, and along his broad shoulders. His lips just barely grazed her forehead. Her fiery hair smelled sweet. It intoxicated him.

His hands found hers. Their fingers locked for a moment. He let go and ran his fingers lightly up the backs of her arms and then over her shoulders, tracing her collar bone and then gently he lifted her face. His lips skimmed over her cheek leaving a warm moist trail behind them. Their noses brushed against each other. He could feel her eyelashes on his temple.

He softly kissed her shoulder, then her neck and her chin. Then he tasted her crimson lips. They were tangy with a hint of the wine still on them. He cradled her head and pressed her lips to his, kissing her intensely. Their bodies melted together and she could feel his manhood rubbing against her sex.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and pushed him backwards. She regarded him coolly, walked to a large pile of cushions and sat down.

“Strip.” He looked playfully at her and began to walk towards her.

“Strip!” she commanded. “You will do as I say.” He stopped in his tracks at the biting reminder of his station. Pensively, he looked up. Her luscious lips were curled into a sensual smile. Her eyes penetrated him. “Please,” she said. “It would bring me pleasure.” He hesitated for a moment then slowly unzipped his jeans. He pushed them down over his hips and stepped out of them. He wore black boxer briefs and his arousal was evident.

“Keep going,” she urged. “Don’t stop now.”

He pulled off his briefs and stood before her, blushing deeply. His arousal fully exposed, he could feel her eyes devouring his naked form. She bit her full lip and began absent-mindedly running a slender finger over it. Her face wore a mask of ravenous desire. She parted her sheer robes with one hand and began to lightly caress her swollen nipple. He hungrily drank in the sight of her bare bosom. His member, swollen and deep purple, twitched with anticipation. He could not recall ever being as aroused as he was now. The look in her eyes, and the sound of her breaths quick and labored, sent waves of wanton desire through his body.

“Touch yourself,” she breathed. Now past embarrassment, his hand moved over his pelvis, through his dark thatch of pubic hair and slid around the base of his manhood. He could feel how hard it was, like steel beneath soft velvet. He could feel the texture of his skin, the bulging veins and a sense of erotic power that surged in him when he touched himself. He began at the head and slowly stroked the length of his shaft, his hand cupping his balls before moving back up.

He watched the sultan’s wife as she slowly stroked her pink nipples. Her other hand slid down her stomach and inside her red silken panties. She let out a tiny moan. Again and again his deft fingers worked his hardness as he watched her watching him. He was close to exploding when she crooked her finger and beckoned him to her. He nearly tripped over himself in his excitement. He sat down and reached for her, but she held up a graceful hand and stopped him.

“Pleasure me,” she insisted. “Only then will you be pleasured…If you are adequate that is.”

He slowly pushed her robes over her shoulders. Her bare skin, fair and supple, beckoned to him. His gentle hand cupped her breast, the thumb slowly teasing at her swollen nipple. He bent down and took her other nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. She breathed heavily into his ear, her hand cradling his head, pulling it even closer to her breast.

He pulled his head away, a silky trail of saliva stretching between his tongue and her nipple. He left a trail of moist kisses down her stomach, his thumbs now hooked in the elastic of her panties. He nuzzled against her silken covered mound. The smell of her sex was near overpowering. She could feel the slightly rough texture of his hands as he slowly slid her panties over her thighs. He smiled wide when she was revealed before him. She was shaven and he could see that her nectar had already began to flow.

He bent close to her womanhood, breathing hot, moist breaths on it, lightly kissing her inner thighs, grazing her swollen clitoris, with the tip of his nose. The sultan’s wife whimpered slightly when she felt his tongue slide along the length of her sex. Her taste was divine. She could feel his stubble, rough on the inside of her thighs. She moaned, one hand rubbing her breast, the other pulling his head into her grinding hips. He could feel her muscles tighten and her breaths coming quicker. Her body convulsed, and crying out, she came, her body twitching in wave after wave of pleasure.

The sultan’s wife, still trying to catch her breath, grasped him and pulled him towards her. She kissed him hard tasting herself on his lips. Her searching hands made their way down his stomach and found his member still rigid with passion. Her touch on his sex sent electric shivers through him. Her hands were gentle, but hungry. She gently pushed him onto his back and knelt beside him. Her hands ran over his thighs as she gently kissed his abdomen, her soft hair falling over his stiff manhood. He watched as she took it in hand and ever so lightly kissed the swollen head. Her eyes locked with his as she began to slowly lick up and down the shaft. She savored his taste…his smell. He gave a throaty moan when she swallowed the head, her tongue running along the underside. She caressed his balls and stroked his thighs while she continued to take him deeper into her eager mouth. When she could feel his thighs tighten she pulled away from him.

He ached with an overwhelming sense of loss as his manhood slid from her warm mouth, but she straddled him then, and guided him, slick with her saliva and his precum to the entrance of her sex. He felt her silky, slickness as she rubbed his member along the length of her, then slid down over him, engulfing him inside her. She whimpered loudly and bit her lip as he entered her, then, with her hands on his chest she began to rock back and forth on top of him. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her tightly to him as he drove inside her. She tossed her head back, her fiery hair cascading in a graceful arc over her head as the made love. She moaned loudly, and as if in reply, he pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely on her lips, and then her neck, and finally her breasts, ranging his tongue over her wanting nipples.

“Take me from behind,” she pleaded between gasping breaths. The disentangled their bodies and she knelt in front of him. He grasped his slick member and pushed it slowly into her. She moaned as he filled her, and pushed her hips backward, grinding into his. He grasped her hips again and began to push inside her in a carnal rhythm. Her body was slick with sweat now as they pulsed like a giant heart, pumping lifeblood to one another. He kissed her shoulders tasting the tang of her sweat. She turned her head and he brushed the soaked, matted red hair from her face and kissed her muffling her loud moans. His hands on her shoulders now, he drove into her feeling her body convulse with each thrust.

He moaned loudly knowing that he was close to the edge. The sounds of her whimpering beneath him sent him over. With a final thrust and an animal-like growl, his hot seed spilled inside her. Feeling his passion fill her, she cried out and came again, her body trembling beneath him. They collapsed, sweaty and spent onto the cushions. His arms encircled her and they lay there, a tangle of heaving breaths and pulsing, sweat soaked flesh. He fell asleep holding the sultan’s wife, listening to her breathe and stroking her flame-hued hair.

When he awoke, she was gone. He pulled on his jeans just as Abdullah entered the room with the rest of his clothes. The guard thrust the garments at him.

“Get dressed!”

He dressed quickly in silence, wondering if he’d ever see her again. When he finished he was led to the palace gates where he was ushered out into the harsh daylight. Abdullah tossed his bag on the ground at his feet, slamming the gate in quick succession. The American quickly snatched up the bag and rifled through it. All his possessions seemed to be there. He strapped on his wristwatch and noticed the time. His flight was leaving in less than an hour. He checked the side pocket of his bag and, relieved, he found his plane ticket.

The square was littered with people, but he managed to find a taxi quick enough. As the taxi sputtered off to the airport, he gazed at the palace through the grimy window. Her taste and smell were still embedded in his mind.

He spent the ride in silence, paid the driver, then shuffled apathetically through the airport. He sat and waited in silence for his flight to be announced, his mind filled with her fiery beauty. When they called his number, he wordlessly handed his ticket to the flight attendant.

“First class sir,” she beamed. The words took a moment to register.

“Huh? First class, but I didn’t pay for…” He smiled widely as the realization overtook him. The sultan did have deep pockets after all.

He made his way onto the plane and collapsed in the seat. He ordered a drink and sipped it calmly, gazing longingly out the window. He barely took any notice when someone sat beside him. Then he recalled the sent, and saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye, and by the time he understood she was already kissing him. When they disengaged, he could only stare at her in disbelief. She just smiled wickedly at him.

“I got a divorce.”


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Erotic Hot Stories – A Trip to Remember

“Why, oh why did I choose to travel Pakistan Airlines and that too from JFK, the worst airport in the Western hemisphere?” I questioned myself, as the security queue inched a bit further on towards the metal detector and then to the relative peace of the departure gates.

Well, I had taken this flight because a single aircraft would jet me home to Karachi with just two fueling stops in Manchester and Lahore, and would take 12 hours less than the trip on Emirates via Hamburg and Dubai. JFK was the obvious choice as PIA flew daily from there to Pakistan. Also the cost on this airline was significantly lower than on the Arabic carrier, and I had bought a return ticket during my last visit home.

The queue was long and painfully slow. Furthermore the pressure of people adding to the line kept forcing those ahead together and I could feel myself sandwiched between a fifty something mom in front and a thirty something South Asian looking man behind me. As the line surged behind us, I lost my footing and the he grabbed me from the waist and left arm. Without this support, I would have certainly ended up on the floor. Another push from behind meant that one of his arms was around my waist and the other was holding my left hand, and this while my body was totally melded against his.

“Careful, miss,” he said, “the people behind are pushing like animals.”

I thanked him for his help and he slowly released me. But we were unable to fully disengage and another shove meant that I had to just accept that we would be in very close proximity until the metal detector was navigated. Here was a good example of where the norms in Pakistan are a lot better, there women and children would get preference to get through such devices and would not be forced into a unisex line. It took another 10 awkward minutes or so before I finally arrived at the top of the queue. During these moments I was saved from tripping a couple more times and all the while I could feel his pelvic region right up against my ass. I could swear I felt something growing and stirring next to my behind, but was too focused on getting through to realize that the friction was probably giving him a hard on.

Add to the friction the fact that I was at the prime age of 23, having just finished college in the US. I had embraced the country and culture wholeheartedly in my four year stay. Today, given that I was an experienced traveler, I had opted on a smart mid length skirt, short heels and a T-shirt. I figured I would change to a shalwar kameez closer to Lahore. This attire, though fairly ordinary, nicely allowed me to show the curve on my legs. I was proud of the athletic regimen I had strictly followed to ensure my figure was well proportioned and maintained. The T-shirt was not buttoned all the way and let me display a fair bit of cleavage, notably if I bent over. With my hair cascading down nearly down to my waist, my fair skin and light eyes, I was quite the ideal Pakistani-Western woman. It was no surprise that the guy jammed up against me was getting turned on; he could probably feel the warmth of my skin through the light fabric of my skirt and the flimsy panties underneath.

Thanks to heaven no lights lit up as I went through the detector. I was not in the mood to be strip searched by the dyke type female security guard standing next to a close by check room. The same did not hold true for my handbag. Though I had been careful about what I had carried, I was sent to another inspector who began to look through and take out some stuff. Of course, there was nothing suspect inside and the guard mouthed a low “thank you” and allowed me to proceed. However, as I was refilling my bag, my passport and ticket dropped to the ground. I was pleasantly surprised to see the same gentlemen, who had I been squeezed up, handing the things to me.

“So you are from Pakistan too?” he queried, “are you going to Lahore on PIA by any chance?”

“No, I am on PIA but continuing to Karachi,” I replied politely.

Seeing my name on the boarding pass he responded, “I will see you on board then, Ms. Iram Mansoor”.

I thanked him again and as he went off towards the Business Class lounges, I figured I would not be running into him any more. He was a rugged and handsome guy, with features that would not easily identify him as Pakistani. He was dressed very smart casual, and carried a sizable notebook computer and expensive looking luggage.


After what seemed like an endless wait, given that the aircraft was delayed by two hours, boarding was finally announced. A wave of people rushed to get on quick, but they were held back by the departure lounge crew. Once order was restored, I found myself about mid way in the pack. Slowly I made my way to the counter and handed over my boarding card.

“Miss Iram,” said the gate agent, “we had a free seat in Business Class and have upgraded you all the way to Lahore. You may have to change back to Economy for the Karachi leg, but check with the staff before you do so. Have a good flight.”

That was certainly great news, given that the PIA Boeing 777 aircraft, while quite new, was pretty cramped in the economy sections. I would now have a lovely business class experience probably all the way home. Why I was upgraded was not a concern that I had, I figured I had made a good impression at the PIA check-in desk and the guys had remembered me. I did look and act memorable compared to the normal load of passengers on this particular flight. A couple of batted eyelids had melted the resolve of the check-in agent to charge me for the significant excess baggage I was carrying along. I knew I was pretty, so why be shy and coy. America had taught me to use my resources to my advantage, and beauty was something I could count on.

I had the window seat on the right side of the aircraft and in the second row. It was not that I had never been in business class before. I had just never been upgraded or flown for such a long journey. The seats looked very inviting compared to the sardine can layout in the back sections and I flopped in to mine with a smile on my face. I gratefully accepted the glass of fresh juice and the newspaper from the stewardess. As I read the paper, I felt someone take the seat next to mine. Looking up, I was surprised to see the fellow from the security line sitting there.

“Hello again Iram, I was wondering if they were going to get you into this seat,” he said.

“Hi again,” I replied, “and you are?”

“Forgive me, I am Fareed Mir from Lahore and Chicago,” he introduced himself.

It was Fareed who had talked to the PIA Station Manager about giving me the seat next to him, and since the Manager remembered me from the check-in desk, he complied. After all he was Fareed’s friend from high school and this was the least he could do for his buddy.

“So why did you ask for me?” I queried him with some suspicion.

“I’ll be frank, I would rather have a very beautiful young lady, who I believe will carry on an intelligent conversation, next to me rather than some average Joe from Pakistan,” he confessed, “I hope you do not mind my company all the way to Lahore.”

Actually I was rather hoping to have someone good to talk with also and Fareed fitted the bill, and now I was in his debt for the upgrade.

The aircraft finally departed nearly three hours behind schedule and we ascended into the night for the journey eastwards. Almost immediately the crew came to life and soon as we leveled dinner was served. I was pretty famished, since I had an early lunch and dinner was quite late compared to my routine. The food was exquisite and I wolfed it down with gusto. During the meal, Fareed nudged me and asked if I would like an alcoholic beverage. PIA does not serve booze and he had brought a bottle of Vodka on board from the Duty Free. Not being a prude as far as alcohol went, and figuring it would help me get some sleep, I accepted and soon we had polished off more than half the bottle. We did get a few stares from the other passengers, either a rebuke for drinking or an appreciation that we were having a good time. By the time dessert was done, I was fairly tipsy. The lights dimmed and I extended the sleeper seat to its fullest and dozed off.


Aamir and I had been introduced to each other a couple of years ago by our respective families. He was completing his Master’s level work also in the US and there was a feeling that we would make a good couple. Aamir was presentable, articulate and knew he was going places. He also was the single child of very wealthy parents, so money was not going to be an issue in his life. Just before I returned for my senior year at college, we were engaged in a lavish ceremony in Karachi.

Aamir attended university on the West Coast, while I was in College on the Eastern Seaboard. Because of the distance we would spend hours daily chatting on the phone. I had not yet experienced sexual intimacy, despite three years of college in the US, since I was at an all-girls school. However, as boys were the favourite topic of discussion at any gathering of girls, I was intrigued by the descriptions of various acts that were given by my colleagues. I often fantasized about making love to Aamir and almost always woke up with a sticky feeling down below.

Then Aamir surprised me by showing up at my dorm during Thanksgiving break. He had come to visit friends in Boston and his plan to be a bolt from the blue worked well on me. Luckily I had just finished mid-term exams or my grades would have taken a serious beating. We made plans to go for dinner at a fancy restaurant that evening and he made sure he arrived punctually. I wore stylish designer jeans and high heeled boots and topped them with a lovely blouse and short jacket. Aamir’s eyes ate me up and I could see that I had made a real impact. Dinner was lovely and we made small talk for a couple of hours as the courses were served. Aamir, like me, was not averse to having a drink, and we celebrated with a bottle of champagne.

I was quite giggly as he drove us home. Since it was a holiday, most of the girls had gone. No one challenged Aamir as he walked me over to my room. Guys were not normally allowed into the rooms, but rules could be bent if you knew the right people. Aamir pulled me close and kissed me deeply. The champagne had dulled my inhibitions and I melted into his arms, allowing him to kiss my lips, cheeks, face, neck and so on. He shut the door, sat on my desk chair and placed me on his lap, still kissing me wherever he could. As I began to get more flushed, he slid the jacket off my arms. I next felt his fingers undoing my blouse and soon he was touching the bare skin on my torso as this piece of clothing was discarded. I tensed as I felt him releasing my bra clasp and tried to push him away. Instead he stood us both up and with my back towards him, slowly took the bra off. His hands grasped my breasts and I could feel his throbbing manhood at my rear. He sat me down on the bed, unzipped my boots and set them to one side, correctly figuring I would throw a fit if my shoes were scuffed. Putting his hands to my midsection he then undid the buttons on my jeans and soon these were lying on the ground.

“No Aamir, please do not do this,” I pleaded, secretly hoping that he would ravish me that very instant.

My pleas fell on deaf ears and my panty was too slinky to survive the pull he gave, as it shredded off my legs, exposing my vagina to him.

Aamir bent over me and whispered, “now remove my clothes, Iram.”

In a flash, I had him out of his clothing. He took a condom from his jacket and rolled it on to his penis, which was the biggest I had ever seen so close up. I lay back expecting bells and whistles to go off. Instead, I felt myself being rent apart as his prick entered my virgin orifice. He slacked and pressed a few times before I felt an intense pain and then had a sense of being filled up. Aamir’s cock was firmly inside me. As a Pakistani girl, I should have kept my virginity to my wedding night, but since I was fucking my husband to be, it did not feel wrong. Aamir began breathing in a laboured fashion and soon jerked as a gasp escaped his throat. I was too focused on the pain to feel anything else. He relaxed and lay back on top of me.

Through the night we made love a few more times. Although my vagina became quite sore, I began to feel some inner pleasure from the battering Aamir gave me. I enjoyed his exploration of my body and when he licked my privates. However, I was not bold enough to agree to sucking his cock. After all it had given me so much pain when he had deflowered me, I could not fathom the hurt it could lay on my mouth. Aamir made up for his disappointment at not get a blow job by fucking me doggie style. I again drew the line at anal sex, though I allowed him to stick his finger into my back side. Finally exhausted, we cleaned up and I sneaked him out of the dorm before too many people were up and about.

I had repaid Aamir in kind during Easter by going to California with some colleagues and dropping in on his apartment late in the evening, without any prior warning. I stripped down to a rather skimpy bikini and spread myself on a deck chair by the pool. I then gave him a call to come down and help me with luggage. He was down in a flash and the sight of me in barely any clothes worked wonders on his midsection. Needless to say Easter was wonderful, but I hardly saw any of California, given I was never in enough of a clothed state to venture very far from him.

I was now on my way back, and he would be coming home soon also. Our wedding had already been planned for December the same year. In the three or so months since our last encounter, I dreamt of the moment every night. Often I would discover my fingers delving deep into the recesses of my vagina and then resulting wetness all around.


I felt a hand envelop mine and help my index finger into my pussy. The pressure increased as another finger of mine and one of the stranger’s also found their way in.

“Ooh, that’s lovely Aamir,” I moaned, “rub me some more.”

The fingers began to move with a nice rhythm. I felt my blouse being unbuttoned and my breast being caressed.

“Kiss me please,” I implored, as I turned my face to one side. I felt my lips being crushed as a tongue entered my mouth.

I came mightily, and woke up shocked to see Fareed kissing me full on the mouth, while fingering my pussy and fondling my breast. My blouse was open more than half way almost releasing one breast from the cup. The skirt had ridden up, exposing my panties and our hands were under the sheer cloth, teasing my vagina. Both of us had blankets over us and it was dark in the plane, so no one could see what either of us had been up to.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, trying to get his hands off my body.

Instead he grabbed my vagina harder and pushed another finger in.

Stroking my neck with his free hand, he whispered, “you were asking me to kiss you and to do some things, I just went along with whatever you asked.”

Apparently I had audibly babbled on in my sleep, damn the vodka!

“Aren’t you ashamed trying something like this with an unmarried, virginal girl?” I responded.

“Well unmarried yes, untouched no, Iram,” he replied again, winking at me.

His fingers were moving in and out quicker and I did not want to make a noise that would bring unwanted attention from the crew and hundreds of fellow passengers. My body began to react to the stimulus and I reached another orgasm. Fareed took his fingers out and ran his hands down my legs, pulling my panties off.

“These will make a lovely souvenir,” he chuckled.

“Please give them back,” I begged, remembering that I had accidentally packed all my other panties into my bag and had not kept any spares in my hand luggage.

“Okay, but on the condition that you be nice to me on the journey,” he replied.

“All right,” I agreed, “what do I have to do?”

“Well to start with, let me please see those beautiful breasts,” he requested.

I went red in the face, but he suggested I remove my blouse and bra under the blanket. I put the blanket on my back and pulled it close as I took off my clothing. Fareed slowly dropped the front and revealed my chest.

“They are truly marvelous,” he said admiringly as he began to suck on my nipples.

I was getting aroused. He looked around and saw the restroom area was empty.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

I put my blouse back on and holding the bra in one hand entered the washroom. Fareed came in behind me and locked the door. He sat down on the commode and undid his pants to remove his cock. Turning me around, he lifted my skirt and positioned my rear over his manhood. Slowly he managed to fit his cock into my pussy.

“You are not wearing a condom,” I whined.

“It’s okay, I will not come in you, I do not want to be a dad either yet,” he responded.

I began to move up and down his shaft, which seemed larger than Aamir’s. After a few minutes, he beckoned me to get off. He now asked me to sit on the toilet and before I knew it forced his cock into my mouth. Holding my head he kept ramming it in as I gagged for breath. Thankfully he exploded within moments and I was forced to suck everything down, as he ordered, or risk it all over my clothes. He cleaned himself, kissed me on the lips and went out quickly. I heard him telling someone that the toilet was not working and he should go to the next one. I found packets of toothpaste and brushes in the washroom and was happy to clean out my mouth. I had been forced in some way, but had found the experience to my liking. I was relieved he had not come in my pussy; a pregnancy would have been something to explain to everyone in Karachi. I had also been pleasantly surprised by the blow job, it was not as awful as I had thought, rather the feeling of power over the man, given that one could bite down with gusto, was something to relish.

“Iram you were wonderful,” Fareed murmured as I returned to my seat.

I found my panties on the seat but decided to not wear them yet as my pussy was still excited and I could feel wetness oozing out of it periodically. A few moments later the lights came on and breakfast was served in anticipation of landing at Manchester. We had just finished and gotten back to our seats in time or things could really have taken a less than palatable twist.

Fareed leaned over and joked, “you’ve already eaten me, I would love to eat you, this food is not really needed!”

I nibbled at the breakfast all the same to get my mind off things. Well I had certainly had a club class experience and my fellow passenger had already entered nirvana. I did not feel violated, maybe out of a sense of debt repayment for the upgrade, but more likely for the fact that I had enjoyed the spontaneity and danger of mile high sex. And we were still just half-way to Lahore!


As we exited, we were told the stop was for one hour more than usual, due to some technical reason. The Manchester Station Manager was waiting at the gate passing out Club Lounge passes to the Business Class passengers. Fareed grabbed a couple and led me to the lounge in the departure area. After seating us in a relatively empty section, he went off to ostensibly visit the duty free shops. He returned a little while later and was laden with reading material and other items.

He asked me if I was grungy and would like to have a shower. After the night’s antics, I was certainly up for this. He asked me to grab my vanity kit and come with him. Soon we were at a restroom area, with signs for showers indicated. A Sikh attendant was there and Fareed gave him some money. He handed us towels and showed us into a cubicle which was attached to a shower. I had expected separate male and female showers, but Fareed had bribed the guy to let us into the same place. There was a fair sized bench and a wash basin apart from the shower.

While I was still soaking in the implications of being in the same shower, Fareed had grabbed me close and was already pulling down my skirt. Since things had already gone far enough, I did not object and he soon had me nude.

“You are gorgeous, Iram, I am so lucky to have met you,” he spoke while rubbing my breasts.

My cheeks turned red at the compliment, as he disrobed quickly and laid me down on the bench.

Pulling out a pack of condoms from his pocket and stating, “Manchester Boots Duty Free to the rescue,” he put one on.

With my legs splayed either side of the bench, he pushed his cock into my willing pussy. Fareed pumped for quite a while, giving me a couple of orgasms in the process. Finally spent in the condom, he pulled out.

“Let’s shower up,” he suggested and we proceeded to enjoy the warm water for about half an hour still playing with each others’ privates.

Cleaned and freshened up, I was looking to put my blouse and skirt on again, when he pulled a package out of the Duty Free bag. Inside was a sharp Liz Claiborne mid length dress, which covered the breasts and closed in a choker at the neck, but had the back dropping to just a couple of inches from the derriere. The hem, however, did extend six inches below the knees. Along with it was a jacket that could be worn to hide the deep back.

“You don’t mind if I keep the blouse and skirt as remembrance of our encounter?” he asked and I nodded assent.

Another box contained a sharp set of stilettos, and in my size, but I was not going to let him have the shoes I was wearing as those were personal favourites.

“Check them out and change them if they don’t look good,” he suggested.

The stilettos were an exact fit and showed off my pretty feet in good measure. Dressed to kill, I returned to the aircraft as boarding was announced. I certainly got a lot of stares, given my new dress and fresh look, but no one could have figured out how much had transpired in the past 12 or so hours since the queue at JFK.


As the dress was backless, I could not put my bra on, and so my bare breasts perked up the front nicely and the nipples were clearly visible. Since I did not want to spoil the jacket by wearing it all through the flight, I had the stewardess hang it in the coat rack thereby exposing my back greatly. By now I could have cared less if anyone objected to my mode of dress. Not only was I traveling better than I had paid for, I certainly was getting serviced a great deal more. Incidentally, as the crew had changed, and I was clearly the snazziest dressed female on board, I was now receiving a lot of attention from the male attendants in particular. Backless dresses are not the norm in Pakistan and I was certainly giving many of them painful erections as they were able to see almost down to the crack of my ass. The female crew was also busy chatting about my dress and “decadent” look. One even ventured to ask if I was a model or designer, and I playfully confessed to being both, much to the enjoyment of Fareed, who was soaking in the action. Within the first hour, every crew member had been in the vicinity to stare at me.

Lunch was served and things returned to normal on the aircraft. I wonder if any of the guys had to go jerk off in the washrooms from the hard-ons they got leering at me. Sure enough, Fareed pulled out a few British ales and I enjoyed downing them with him. So they were a few calories, but they certainly make them good in that part of the world.

As I snuggled up again to catch some sleep, Fareed murmured, “you need to change into something Pakistani before we land or you know this dress will give people heart attacks if you come off the plane in it.”

We had both covered ourselves with blankets and Fareed’s fingers soon found their target. He fingered me for a pretty long time and I was worried the dress may get stained. Luckily it did not.

The flight droned on, the impact of lunch and lack of sleep made most of the passengers doze off. Fareed suggested it was time to change into a more appropriate outfit. As I went into a washroom to change, he knocked and I slipped him inside. Needless to say a quick fuck and clean up followed. We kissed for a few minutes and then he left me to make myself presentable. As the plane came over Pakistani territory, heading to Lahore, I stepped out in proper regional attire, much to the disappointment of many on the aircraft.

The plane landed in Lahore, nearly four hours behind schedule. Just as the lights were dimmed, Fareed sneaked a kiss. He bid me goodbye and talked to the chief steward on the way out. I saw him going up the gangway and wondered if I would see him again or if the past 24 hours had ever happened. The fact that the dress was in my luggage and that I could still feel his hands on my privates meant that I had truly undergone the experience.


It took a while for the flight to prep up and leave for my ultimate destination, Karachi. Finally we were off the ground and the end to my journey was just an hour and a few minutes away. As I had anticipated, no one asked me to go back into Economy Class and so my trip continued in comfort. But, half an hour into the trip, the Captain came on advising of freak thunderstorms in Karachi. Since the airport had been shut down for the time being, we would be returning to Lahore to wait out the weather.

We landed and passengers were asked to go into the departure lounge. As we reached the baggage hall, I found myself looking at Fareed. He came up and told me he had heard about the storm and flight cancellations and had taken a chance to see if I was coming back. Furthermore he advised that the storm was in fact a full blown cyclone in the Arabian Sea that would mean Karachi was closed for at least half a day.

“Why Fareed, how do you know all this?” I asked, secretly relieved to see him in a city I did not really know.

“Iram, I work for the ICAO and am supposed to know what is going on with airlines and weather and so on,” was his response.

I now figured out how he was getting treated so much better all around and could pull strings with the airline. He had arranged for PIA to get me a room in the Pearl Continental Hotel, which was the premier place in town. While the bags remained on the flight, I was advised to come back after 12 hours. Meanwhile the immigration formalities for those going to Karachi were now done in Lahore as arrangements for their stays were being made. An officer delivered my stamped passport and I was soon in my room at the hotel. I would no longer need to go through customs and immigration in Karachi, thanks heaven for small mercies!


Some time after I had arrived and finished showering up to sleep, there was a knock on the door. Not surprisingly, Fareed was there with a bunch of packages in tow. I should have denied him entry, but so much water had passed under the bridge that I felt a certain friendship with him. Lovers we were, but I was also enjoying his company.

“Iram, I have brought you some of the finest foods from Lahore, it would be a travesty if you did not get to sample the cuisine while here,” he said laying out a half dozen items on the table.

“But this food is messy and you don’t want it all over yourself, so take off your dress and put some towels over yourself,” he hinted to me.

I did as he directed and enjoyed the treatment as he seated me naked in his lap and alternatively fed me tasty bits of the food and tickled my body parts. Finally I could not eat any more.

I was, however, ready for more sex and lay down on the bed. Fareed, now unclothed, opened my legs wide and sucked on my pussy until I felt an orgasm build up and dissipate. Licking my legs, midsection and breasts, he positioned himself and entered my pussy yet again. We lay entwined and he began to slowly make love to me. For once we were not having a quickie or in any danger of discovery, and the sensation was wonderful. After a while he asked me to sit on top and straddle his cock. I did so without question and began to buck as he enjoyed the sight of my breasts bouncing in their glory as his penis vanished into and emerged from my vagina. I pulled him out as he began to thrash a bit and took his cock into my mouth, peeling the condom off first. He came, but not to the extent of the first blow job, and I had no trouble swallowing the love juice down. Still, I was impressed that he had managed to fuck me repeatedly in the past day or so. Aamir had not managed more than twice a day while we were together in the States.

Fareed asked me to leave a wake up call with the front desk and we went to sleep in each others’ arms. The call got us out of deep slumber. As we had over one hour till the car was due for the airport, I began to rub his cock rhythmically. His response was automatic and he was up quickly. Rather than putting me on my back, he turned me face down. Picking up my bottle of lotion from the side table, he greased his cock. I was wondering what he was up to when his prick invaded my backside. I yelped and begged him to withdraw, but he thrust all the way in. Slowly the pain subsided and I began to enjoy his pulling in and out of my ass. He grunted as whatever sperm he could muster was deposited into my rectum. Not only had he fucked me royally, he had also introduced me to the joys of anal and oral sex.

I figured Fareed was also well and truly fucked. He bid me goodbye, before the phone rang to advise about the car waiting for the ride to the airport. I was sure this was going to be the last time I would see him and was glad that the episode was coming to an end. We had been intimate, and it had made a journey very pleasant. But it was now time to put this sojourn behind me and embark on the next part of my life with my soon to be husband. Importantly, Aamir would be glad to both get his blowjobs and to fuck my ass if he so desired, without any objections from me, as those inhibitions were now ancient history.


This time the aircraft took off without incident. Fareed had brought me a designer shalwar kameez and this time I really looked like a Pakistani runway model. My business class seat was still there and so was the elevated level of attention from the flight crew. Exactly as indicated, the plane touched down at a very wet Karachi airport one hour and thirty minutes later. I had half expected to lose my bags, but sure enough they were there on the carousel.

More importantly Aasim was standing in the baggage area to receive me. We demurely shook hands as any further public display would render us liable to prosecution.

“You look smashing, Iram, I am sure you turned quite a few people on in the flight,” he ventured.

“Oh no, Aamir, I only dressed up to show what treats I have in store for you,” I teased him back, leaning in to let my still bra-less breasts brush his arm.

He was quite surprised with my boldness, and got us into the car and on to the road in record time, anticipating a good reward in the near future.

I am sure he would have been even more surprised at how many hard-ons I had actually dealt with in the past few hours, but that was my very own secret!


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