You would call me an Arab Prince. I am in my thirties and am very much for real. What I write here is true but I must shelter a little so that my stories cannot be traced back to me. I stand just over five foot ten, weigh one hundred and seventy-five pounds and am clean shaven. I have been told I look a little like Omar Shariff, but I do not believe that to be the case. I grew up in the Middle East and attended college in your country at a large state university. While I was there I became quite enamored with your beautiful women many of whom I had an opportunity to fuck. I am now back in my country involved in our family business, which is, of course, oil. I work few hours and have all the money that I will ever need. I basically live a life of hedonistic leisure. As it is your money that allows me to live in this manner and as it is your money that allows me to acquire and enjoy your succulent women I felt it was only fair to take a few moments here and there to tell you of a few of my adventures and life. I want to thank you for your money and your sensual women.
The Milk Maid
I own a small island just off the coast of my country that is about a mile and a half long and perhaps three hundred yards wide at the broadest point. There is a dock, a landing strip for my private jet, a very small village where about two dozen people in my employ live and my home that is on a small rise overlooking the white beaches and is 8,000 square feet in size. This is my oasis, where I come to escape and play.
A couple of years ago I was perusing an on line adult dating line when I came across the picture of a lovely young thing that lived in California. She said she was twenty had long blond hair that went to her rear end, large blue eyes and lovely pristine pale skin. Her most remarkable feature were her breasts that were large and cone shaped with incredible aureoles and large nipples. I had to have her for a very special plan that I had long nurtured. I summoned Hamdan and his wife Nessiba to my den.
I must take a moment to tell you of these two very important people in my life. As a young Prince, Hamdan was my chosen playmate. He came to our family from a Bedouin tribe. My father paid his family for his servitude as my companion. As we grew older he was trained by my father's security as my bodyguard. I knew that he was eternally faithful and would die for me. He traveled with me to the United States and attended university with me and was my roommate throughout school. People would often think that we were brothers as we were constantly together and very dedicated to one another. Often I would allow him to fuck the young American women whom I had seduced when I was finished with them. When we graduated and returned home, Hamdan became my most trusted assistant. He managed my properties and conducted special assignments for me.
Nessiba had a similar heritage but a very different purpose. Nessiba is very beautiful with lovely olive skin, long black hair, large bosom and a lovely full ass. When I was eighteen my father took me to the wife of one of his managers whom he had sent away on assignment. He left me with her for a weekend while her husband was away. I later found out that he had told her what she was to do under threat of having her husband lose his job. The woman took my virginity and introduced me to the pleasures of the bed. I think she quite enjoyed herself regardless of the circumstances. When I returned home Nessiba, a girl of eighteen, had been placed in a bedroom adjoining mine. For the next two years while I finished my studies and prepared to leave for college I experimented sexually with Nessiba and enjoyed her in every way possible. My father's plan was that when I left for school Nessiba would be matched back up with an older man from her tribe in marriage. I had grown to love her like a sister and did not want her out of my life. Unbeknownst to my father Hamdan had become enamored with Nessiba and she with him. With my permission Hamdan had begun to fuck her when I was away. I convinced my father to allow Nessiba to stay in the household while we were away at college and to offer her to Hamdan in marriage upon our return. Both Hamdan and Nessiba were thrilled by the prospect and our lives became intertwined forever.
When they came to me that day I told them of the flaxen haired American beauty on the Internet site and the plans I had for her. Hamdan made arrangements to travel to the United States to escort her back to the island and Nessiba began making the other arrangements that were necessary for me to enjoy her in the manner that I desired.
She arrived three weeks later and was even more beautiful in person than she was in her picture. The girl's name I learned was Pamela. She was, however, extremely agitated because Hamdan had brought her to me without her consent. For legal reasons, I cannot tell you how he did it. Suffice it to say that it is possible to clandestinely give a woman a cocktail of drugs that will allow you to suggest that she come with you and she will follow you without question. To the outside world she seems perfectly normal and consensual but in reality she was abducted in plain sight. When she arrived it took twenty-four hours for the drugs to leave her system. When she became aware of the fact that she had, in effect, been kidnapped she was extremely upset. Nessiba, who speaks fluent English, stayed with her and kept her as calm. When the time for us to meet came, Nessiba bathed her and dressed her in a crimson sarong of the finest silks.
It was dressed in that manner that I met Pamela for the first time in the dining room of my island mansion. Nessiba brought her to me and introduced me to her as Abdul-Qahhar, servant of the subduer. I bent and kissed her soft attractively tapered tender hand and pulled out from the table one of the teak chairs for her to sit upon. Nessiba left us alone as I took my place at the head of the table to her right.
"Why have you done this to me, why have you brought me here?" she said with a trembling voice as tears welling up in her beautiful eyes.
"Have you been hurt or mistreated in any way?" I asked.
"No, everyone has been very, very kind." She replied.
I smiled at her and reached across to take her hand in mine. "Then enjoy your dinner. Let me get to know you over our meal. Afterwards I will show you my home and talk to you about why you were brought here. After that you will be free to leave and return to your home if you so choose."
"Really?" she asked.
I squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "Most definitely my dear. No one will harm you in any way. "
I rang the small bell on the table and the staff began to bring in the many courses of our meal. Over the next hour and a half Pamela told me all about her life in Southern California. She had dropped out of college after one year and was working at a trendy ladies dress store on Rodeo Drive as a sales assistant, a job that she did not care for at all. She also confessed that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend and was currently not in a relationship. Her mother had died when she was a teenager from breast cancer. Her father had remarried too quickly in Pamela's opinion and that had caused them to drift apart.
