by Reed James
I shivered, running hands over my dusky skin, cupping my round breasts. They were perky and firm, my nipples small and dark brown. I pinched them, letting out a delicious moan before kneeling on my bed.
Like a bitch about to be fucked in the ass by Clint.
“Ooh, yes, Clint,” I groaned, wiggling my hips. I rubbed my fingers up my thighs, drawing nearer and nearer to my pussy.
My shaved pussy.
I couldn't believe I did that, but it made my vulva even more sensitive, made masturbating even more intense. I shivered, brushing the smooth flesh around my pussy, slick with my juices. My tangy scent filled my nose. I whimpered, brushing my slit.
Then I found my clit. I rubbed it, my asshole clenching as I wiggled my hips, pointed at the door. I pictured Clint standing there naked, his body muscular and strong, his skin lighter than mine. He stroked his cock, his face so handsome, chiseled, bold, his dark eyes smoldering as he stared at me.
“Just slide your cock into my pussy,” I moaned, rubbing at my virgin snatch, brushing my hymen. “Take my cherry, lube your cock, then fuck my asshole! Fuck me like Lee!”
* * *
Mrs. Umayyah
I came home early, Leyla's old, faded-blue Toyota Camry in the driveway. I should have stayed at the college and finish my work, but I couldn't. Temptation burned too hot. I wanted to find a stud, any stud, and have him fuck me. But I refused to violate my marriage. I loved my husband. He was a good man. A good provider.
I was the terrible wife. Bad enough I squandered our savings on my poker addiction and then spent my lunch breaks masturbating to Clint committing incest with his sisters and aunt. I wouldn't be a whore like Vicky and her daughters.
I wouldn't ever cheat on him.
I was a good woman. A proper Muslim. Yes, I had my sins, and I prayed to Allah for forgiveness. I strove to rise above my base nature, but my female desires burned through me. They'd only grown as I matured while my husband, exhausted from working hard all day, could hardly muster the energy most nights to satiate me.
Only on the weekends did my pussy get the true satisfaction she craved.
I entered the house.
It was strangely silent. I knew Leyla and my baby boy Jalal were home. Usually, Jalal played video games, the sounds echoing through the house. I moved to the second floor, a strange energy in the air. I felt...like I intruded.
I frowned, reaching the carpeted stairs, moving up them.
I heard heavy breathing. And a rhythmic slap. I furrowed my brow, the sound...familiar. I couldn't quite place it. Flesh slapping flesh. Not quite the sound of two people having sex, but similar. A hot itch formed in my pussy.
Had Jalal brought a girl home? Had my shy baby boy blossomed like my eldest son? It couldn't be Leyla. She was a perfect girl, not a slut. She'd never sneak a boy into the house.
I crept up the stairs.
I spotted the crown of my son's head just over the top of the stairs. I climbed higher. Jalal knelt before his sister's door, peering through her keyhole. We had an old house, built over a hundred years ago, with locks that used skeleton keys on all the bedroom doors. His arm moved like he was...
Masturbating.
My pussy became molten.
I crept up another step. Then another and shuddered, witnessing his hand flying up and down his eighteen-year-old cock. I fought the urge to moan, my eyes so wide, witnessing him pounding his dick. I licked my lips, realizing he neared the size of his father's. He let out another groan, peeping on his sister.
Then I heard a different moan, feminine. My eyes widened. No, that couldn't be Leyla masturbating. She was too young to discover sex. Only nineteen. She never dated. She saved herself for marriage. We were still looking for the perfect, young man to be her husband. Someone to care for and love her, to give her wonderful children and make her happy.
She couldn't be rubbing her pussy like a slut. Like a whore. Like Lee.
Jalal licked his lips, muttering, “Yes, yes, finger that pussy.”
My eyes widened. Leyla was masturbating. That little whore. And her poor brother had grown hard because of it, realizing what his naughty sister was doing in her room. He couldn't help getting an erection, forced to pleasure himself to make it go down.
“That little tramp,” I whispered beneath my breath, my son jerking his dick faster and faster.
“Oooh, you want him to fuck you in the ass?” groaned Jalal. “Such a slut.”
I shivered, my hijab swaying about my shoulders. Anal? She was such a slut.
My fingers crept down my body, wanting to rub my hot pussy. I shifted my feet, spreading my legs wider and—
A low groan creaked from the stairs.
Instantly, Jalal bolted from his feet, darting for his bedroom and vanishing into it.
I shuddered, my pussy still burning. I had to see what sort of slut my daughter was. I had to witness for herself what she did to drive my baby boy to masturbate his dick in the hallway. I moved as quietly as I could, not wanting to startle her like I did Jalal.
I reached her door, crouched down, and peered through my second peephole of the day.
“That little slut,” I hissed, my pussy clenching.
Leyla perched on her hands and knees, her pussy and dusky ass pointed right at the door. She knew Jalal watched her. Why else would she point her cunt right where he could peek? What a whore! She rubbed her fingers up and down her snatch and...
She had no pubic hair.
I stared at my daughter's bald twat, her dusky fingers sliding through her folds, exposing the pink flesh of her depths. Her juices coated her fingers as my hand shoved beneath my skirt. I slid up it, finding my panties. I thrust the gusset to the side, rubbing on my hot snatch.
“You're just masturbating like a wanton slut,” I groaned. “So filthy!” She had no self-control.
“Oh, fuck me,” panted Leyla, rubbing her pussy faster and faster.
My digits buried into my snatch. I let out a sighing moan, my hot flesh embracing my digits. The two of them felt so amazing in me. I pumped them in and out of my pussy, the pleasure coursing through me, making me quiver and shake.
My daughter's hips wiggled more and more, her round breasts swaying beneath her, nipples so hard. Her slutty juices dribbled down her dusky thighs. Her ass clenched. Black hair swung as she threw a look over her shoulder.
Staring right at me.
“Yes, yes, yes, you love my pussy,” she moaned, thinking her little brother still watched. My poor son was helpless against this temptress. “Just love being in me. But I know what you really want.” She let out a throaty moan. “My asshole!”
I gasped, watching Leyla's fingers sliding up from her pussy, through her taint, and between the cheeks of her ass. She found her sphincter, pressing her pussy-lubed digits into her asshole. Her back arched.
“Make me your slut!” she howled.
My fingers plunged wildly in and out of my pussy, watching my whore-daughter finger her asshole, begging to be her little brother's slut. I shivered, licking my lips, realizing my daughter was lost to her whorish pussy.
A slut.
A teasing whore.
I brushed my clit and came.
* * *
Leyla Umayyah
“Yes, yes, yes,” I groaned, my body shuddering as my fingers plunged in and out of my asshole. I shoved my left hand between my thighs, frigging my clit, my head resting on my blanket, my ass still shoved up in the air. “Fuck me! I'm your slut!”
My fingers thrust faster and faster into my bowels. The rough pleasure surged through me. I whimpered, my clit throbbing beneath my fingers dancing on them. Pleasure racked my body, building in me.
I wiggled my hips, picturing Clint pounding his cock so hard into my asshole, his hand reached around me, frigging my clit. My bowels clenched on his “dick,” the friction increasing as my fingers pumped so fast, lubed by my pussy juices.
I let out another groan, hearing Clint moan in my mind. Just my little slut
, he panted. Like my cousins. You're just my whore now. I'm going to cum in your asshole And maybe... Maybe I'll fuck your pussy again. Clean my dick off with your nasty cunt and breed you.
“Anything,” I whimpered, my virgin pussy drinking in the burning heat from my asshole. “I'm your slut! I shaved my cunt for you! Give it to me!”
The pleasure surged through me. I whimpered, my pussy clenching in envy of my asshole, aching to be full. I wanted to be pure. I prayed for it. How could I make it to my wedding day without surrendering my cherry to someone?
My clit drank in my rubbing fingers. My bowels rejoiced at my plunging digits. The dual delights swirled in the depths of my virgin cunt, feeding on each other. I whimpered, rubbing my cheek into my bedspread.
Let me feel that ass milking my cock, slut, growled Clint, slamming hard into me in my fantasy. Do it!
“Yes! I'm your slut!”
Those depraved words triggered rapture in me.
I came.
My pussy spasmed, juices flooding out around my fingers rubbing my clit. Heat soared through me, washing out from my cunt and my asshole. My bowels gripped my thrusting fingers. I whimpered into the bedspread, my body trembling.
Pleasure washed across my mind. Stars danced before my vision. My bed creaked as my body quaked. Such delight surged through me, the relief denied me all day at school. My toes curled as the ecstasy peaked in me.
Just my naughty slut, growled Clint in my imagination.
“Yes, I am. Your naughty slut.”
My orgasm died down. I panted, shivering, my eyes fluttering. I rubbed my clit a few more times, my fingers still buried in my asshole. They felt so nice in there. I could just fall asleep with them in me, filling my—
My bedroom door burst open.
“Mom!” I screamed in shock, ripping my fingers out of my asshole. I grabbed my pink teddy bear, a gift from Dad on my eleventh birthday, and pulled it before my naked body. Mom advanced in her dark dress, her dusky face flushed, her hijab half askew. “It's not what it looks like!”
“You weren't masturbating yourself like a nasty slut?” she demanded. “Huh?”
“I...” Shame burned through me.
“I saw it all,” Mom said. “On your hands and knees. Moaning like a whore. Begging to be your little brother's slut.”
“My...” I frowned at her. “What, no! Never!”
“I thought you were pure, Leyla.” She sat down on the bed, some of her dark hair peeking out of her hijab. “I thought you were my good girl. But you're just a slut.”
“I'm not!” I gasped.
“I heard you.”
I flushed more, remembering the hot, degrading words I said while caught up in the fantasy.
“You're a slut. And that's okay.”
I blinked at that. “What?” My mom couldn't have said that. Not the role model of a virtuous Muslim woman. “Mom?”
“You're a slave to your pussy. It happens. I hoped you would be pure like me.” Mom stroked my black hair, giving me a motherly smile.
Shame filled me for not being pure.
“But you're slut. And I know just what to do about that.”
“I'm not a slut, Mom,” I repeated. “I'm still a virgin!”
She grabbed my left hand, her fingers wet on my wrist, and pulled it up from the bear. My digits glistened with my pussy juices. She brought them to my lips, shoving my fingers into my mouth. I gasped, tasting my tangy cream for the first time.
A wicked thrill went through me as she fucked my fingers in and out of my mouth, forcing me to taste myself.
“That's what a slut's cunt taste like,” Mom said, using such a dirty word. It shocked me she knew it. “So whorish. And you love it, don't you? Your whore-juices?”
I shivered, lowering my eyes. I did.
“And then these fingers...” She grabbed my right hand this time, bringing those to my lips. “Suck them clean, too, whore.”
“Yes...Mom,” I said, shocked by how...obedient I acted. I opened my mouth, letting her shove my dirty digits past my lips. I tasted my sour ass. My eyes widened at the nasty flavor. I sucked on them, my pussy growing hotter.
“That's it, clean those nasty digits off. Just like a good slut.” Her hands pulled away my teddy bear as I kept plunging my fingers into my mouth on my own. Then her hands cupped my round breasts, thumbs sliding over my nipples.
I shivered, moaning about my digits.
“Yes, yes, you have that responsive whore-body,” Mom continued. “You must have gotten it from your father's side. His sisters are all sluts. Just like you. But I still love you.” She leaned in, kissing me on the cheek, her lips so hot. “Yes, yes, these round breasts are so firm. They were meant to be played with. Your whole body screams sex. No wonder you drove your poor little brother to distraction.”
I pulled my fingers out of my mouth. “He's the perv that keeps looking at me.”
“Because he knows you're a slut. Then you go and masturbate, pointing that pussy right at the door, letting him see what a whore you are as he masturbates his poor cock. A cock that you made hard.” Mom shook her head, her face growing angry. “A slut doesn't leave a boy hard like that. She takes care of him.”
“But...” I protested. “He's my brother.”
“Is that why you let him watch? Is that what turns you on?”
“I didn't know he was watching!” I protested.
She smacked me.
I gasped, my cheek stinging in pain.
“I won't have you lying to me,” she said. “I heard you begging to be his slut. You knew he was there. Watching you. I bet you do this every day, driving him wild. Then you don't have the decency to help him out. Like a good slut would.”
I rubbed my cheek, reeling from this conversation. “But...I didn't—”
Her hand raised.
“Sorry, Mother.”
“Now you'll be a good slut,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Right now your poor baby brother is in need. You made him hard, and you will relieve him.”
“Mom!” I gasped in shock, dazed by my mother, the perfect Muslim wife, hauling me to my feet and dragging me naked from my bedroom.
My breasts bounced as Mom yanked me down the hallway. I stumbled after her, my pussy juices dribbling out of my shaved, virgin pussy. My thoughts reeled. Was I a slut? I was horny all the time. I wanted to be fucked. A good, pure girl wouldn't want that. She'd only yearn for her husband.
But me...
And Mom was always right. I had to obey her. The imam at our mosque always said that. Children have to obey their parents, especially their mothers. You have to respect your mother. She birthed you, brought you into this world, and nursed you from her breasts.
Maybe...I was a slut.
Mom reached Jalal's door, ignoring the “Do not enter, science experiment in progress” sign on his door. She threw it open, the sign bouncing against painted wood. Jalal jumped, hauling up his sheets over his crotch. I had a fleeting glimpse of his dick, thrusting up hard from a dark bush.
My virgin pussy clenched.
“Mom!” gasped Jalal. “I was just...” His words trailed off as he stared at my naked body. Mom pulled me to Jalal's bed. “Mom?”
“I'm know what you're doing,” Mom said. “I understand. Young men have such a sex drive, and then you have your slutty older sister parading her body before you, masturbating so you can see every inch of her shaved cunt. It's okay. She'll take care of you from now on.”
“Take care of me?” Jalal spluttered, pushing up his glasses, his dark eyes so wide.
Then Mom riped down his sheets, exposing his cock thrusting out of his boxer shorts. He only wore those. His shirt and jeans gone. He had a slim body with more muscles on it than I thought. Not Faizel or Dad's level of muscles, but he wasn't weak. And his dick...it looked so big, thrusting from his dark bush.
Jalal covered his dick.
“Don't do that, honey,” Mom said, pushing me down onto the bed. “Your sister's going to give you
a blowjob.”
“What?” I gasped. “I've never done that before.”
“A blowjob is something a good slut should know,” Mom said, grabbing my dark hair. She forced my head down to Jalal's crotch. I knelt on my knees, my tits pressed into my knees, my little brother's hands covering his dick right before my lips. “So you'll practice on your little brother. After all, you made him hard with that whore-body of yours.”
“Mom,” I whimpered, my pussy growing hotter.
“Really, Mom?” Jalal asked, an eagerness to his voice. He ripped his hands away.
My eyes widened, staring at his circumcised cock. It throbbed before me, a dusky shaft leading up to a spongy tip, like a mushroom. Clear juices beaded the tip. A shiver ran through me as Mom forced my head lower.
My lips brushed the tip.
“Start sucking on it, slut,” Mom ordered. “Come on, you know you want to do it. You were born to. Your lips, so lush, were meant for sucking cocks. Do it!”
My mouth opened. My lips slid around my little brother's cock. He let out a groan ,his body shuddering. His dick twitched in my mouth. A hot thrill shot through me, rippling out of my virgin cunt. More juices dribbled down my thighs.
“Honey, you have to lick it and suck it.” Mom leaned her head down as I shivered. “Like this.”
She ripped my mouth off my brother's cock, her left hand grabbing his dick. She licked up the shaft with her pink tongue, reaching the tip. My eyes widened, witnessing her tongue fluttering around the crown. Jalal groaned louder, the bed creaking more.
“Oh, Mom,” he gasped as her mouth engulfed the tip of his cock. She bobbed up and down, her lips sealed tight about his shaft. She groaned, cheeks hollowing, sucking on it.
Then her mouth popped off. “That's how you suck a cock like a slut, Leyla. Now get to it. Your poor brother needs to cum. He has a bad case of blue balls.”
“So bad,” groaned Jalal.
“Call her a slut or whore,” Mom ordered as she shoved my mouth down to my brother's dick.