The Houri's Tale

You have asked, my Lord, how Your precious jewel became so knowledgeable in the art of love…as You know, when she came to You, she was not untouched… Hear then, O my Lord, the Tale of the Houri, in which she explains her life before You graced her with Your attentions…

My Introduction to Pleasure

I was always a precocious child; curious and lively. I grew up in a loving, privileged family, spoiled and pampered by all. My father was an enlightened man, who wanted all his children, sons and daughters alike, to be educated. Thus I grew up in an atmosphere of learning, love and trust. I thought everyone loved me, and believed none would do me harm.

As I grew older, I found that society prized more than my brains or my personality. As my breasts budded and my hips rounded, I learned the power of my body. My dark brown tresses flowed over my shoulders, and my eyes flashed with inner fire. I learned that when I pouted my full pink lips and sucked on my lower lip, those of the opposite gender would do whatever I asked.

I longed to experiment more with that newfound power; but my father was extremely protective. I had little contact with boys of my age. I took refuge in books, sneaking some of my father’s more…interesting…volumes out of his library.

These books taught me about the sexual act. Reading them stirred unfamiliar feelings in me…and the illustrations… My father had the illustrated Kama Sutra and some other erotica from the east…Japanese woodcuts… My hand would slip, unbidden, to the moist flower of my sex, covered in thick black curls…and delve to the soft lips within…I found that by stroking and lightly probing…and teasing the little button at the very top, I could bring myself much pleasure.

The woodcuts were exquisitely detailed; the lust on the faces of the lovers clearly visible. I did not understand some of the illustrations; part of me longed to try them with a partner. However, even if my father was liberal in certain respects, in others he was quite traditional. He kept my sisters and me well protected, and we had little contact with those of the opposite gender. My sisters’ marriages were arranged; I fully expected that my eventual marriage would be, too.

We did meet some men; my father being a well-respected man, there were those who came to him, hoping to benefit from his wisdom. Over the years, he formed a close circle of friends with varying ages. The youngest was a man in his late 30’s. To a girl of 18, he was ancient, over twice my age. But there was something about him that drew me. His wit, his voice…his looks. He was a handsome man, with dark eyes and hair, a muscular body; his skin warmed to bronze from the sun. My father trusted him completely; and Hassan (that was his name) became a favorite of my family.

Hassan was always kind to me. He would speak with me on occasion, bring me sweets. He would sometimes rest his hand on my shoulder, or move close to me. A few times, I caught him gazing at me, and I would meet his gaze, and shudder from what I saw in his eyes…the sensual promise, the heat in his eyes…At those times, a secret ache would start within me. I would often find my thighs moist. He caused the same feelings in me that reading those forbidden books engendered.

Between the books and my father’s friend, I was a quivering mass of desire – fruit ripe for the plucking. Hassan sensed this. Little did I know the plans he had for me…the thoughts that ran through his mind…Both of us wanted the same, but neither of us knew how to achieve it. Hassan respected my father too much to abduct me, as he would have any woman he fancied.

Fate took a hand…

I was with my mother at the market one day, when a sudden disturbance separated us. A gang of robbers had attacked a merchant, but the guards arrived and they began to fight. In the confusion, I lost sight of my mother. To make matters worse, a violent rainstorm suddenly inundated the city. I ran for shelter and ended up lost. I was terrified…

Hassan found me, wandering the streets. He took me to his home. I was so aware of my bedraggled state, and I cursed the fates. I did not realize how the soft cloth clung to my figure…how my dark nipples were revealed by the sodden fabric… Hassan told me later that his manhood throbbed at the sight of me. Untried innocent that I was, I did not know…

As we reached the gates of Hassan’s abode, another squall hit the city. The streets began to flood. Hassan immediately sent his man to my parents’ house, to reassure them that I was all right. He sent a note saying that once the rains stopped, he would bring me home and for them not to worry, as I would be adequately chaperoned by an old aunt of his, who was visiting.

The truth was, he and I were alone. He had been planning a trip to his horse-breeding farm, and had sent his servants ahead with his luggage. Thus, he and I had the privacy we both longed for.

I was frightened; I wanted him desperately, but the feelings that went through me were so new…the thought of actually being with him…acting out the woodcuts, the Kama Sutra…my mind spun at the thought.

I came back to myself when I heard him say, “Off to the baths with you, little flower.” He accompanied me, and lit the braziers, heating the room, and the water. He ordered me to strip off my clothes. I waited for him to leave, but he said, “No my flower, I will be joining you. I am not as rich as your father, little one, and my servants are gone. We must share this bath.”

My pulse began to race at his words. I emitted a little squeak of fright. He laughed softly, and approached me, sliding his finger under my chin and tilting my head up. “Trust me, little flower. I will not hurt you… Besides,” he added, his eyes flashing with laughter, “I am soaked through…you do not want your good friend Hassan to become ill, do you?” I shook my head violently. “Now, strip off those wet clothes, my pet. You’re going to catch your death…and so will I.”

I hesitated, and he turned his back. I quickly stripped off my sodden robes and slipped into the warm water. It was heavenly… Hassan gathered up my clothes and hung them to dry over glowing embers. He stood looking over the water, gazing at my body through the translucence. His nostrils flared, a light of hunger entered his eyes. I felt his gaze and began to tremble.

Slowly he began to disrobe, and I quickly averted my eyes. My heart was beating as wildly as that of a frightened fawn. I couldn’t help myself, I had to look…I peeped at him out of the corner of my eyes…oh Allah, he had a magnificent body! Broad chest, muscular arms, taut stomach…strong thighs, lean hips…and his manhood! It was bigger than those I’d seen in the woodcuts!

I must have made an involuntary sound, because he laughed as he stepped into the tub and sat down. The water lapped over me and I shivered at its caress. The temperature seemed to have gone up by a fair number of degrees… He teased…his voice low…a little husky… “Did you see something interesting, little minx?”

I shook my head and kept my eyes lowered. He reached out to a spot behind me, his body uncomfortably close to mine. I shrank back involuntarily and felt him laugh…a soft rumble that set his breath dancing across my skin. He showed me the patchouli soap in his hand, and told me to turn around so he could wash my hair.

His hands were incredibly gentle on my scalp. I slowly felt myself relax. My eyes closed and tiny murmurs of pleasure escaped me as he massaged my scalp and ran his fingers through my silken hair. I didn’t understand why he tensed…or why his voice turned rough and he said, “O Little Flower, you will drive me mad!”

He suddenly dunked me under the water, I rose, sputtering and flailing and he pulled me to him, so I rested between his legs, my back on his broad chest.

That contact, My Lord…that first feel of his body against mine…paralyzed me –it felt so wonderful…

He slowly began to lather my body with the soap. He touched only my arms, but his gentle caresses were so erotic. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations that ran riot through my body. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

His laugh rumbled through me again; he took inordinate pleasure in my simple gesture of submission. He trailed his fingers over my shoulders and slid them along my spine. I purred, my Lord…for the first time in my life…a low sweet sound that inflamed Hassan.

He pulled me closer to him, and I felt his shaft throbbing against the soft cheeks of my bottom. I whimpered in surprise and fear, and he whispered reassuringly, “Sweet dove, don’t worry, I will not hurt you.” He brought his hands up to my tender breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh.

I moaned, an intense jolt of pleasure shooting down my body…all the way to my toes, which curled in response. My back arched, as his fingers tweaked and teased the pert little nubs. As I arched, my rounded buttocks pressed harder against his groin. He growled, “Little flower, you will unman me!”

I didn’t understand what he meant, I was lost in a haze of pure lust. My body throbbed and ached; the treasure between my thighs was moistened by a rush of liquid heat.

My breasts heaved in excitement, I could not control the movements of my hips, nor the needy little sounds that escaped me. One of his hands slipped downwards, traveling over my quivering belly, down to the patch of soft dark fur that hid my sex. His fingers delved – and found the swollen nubbin that had been the source of my pleasure during my solitary journeys on the road to pleasure.

I released a wild little wail when he touched the pulsing button…His fingers stroked and teased, alternately pinching and rubbing it. My head fell back, my eyelashes fluttered and I ground my hips against his groin, my body seeking release from the delicious torture of his touch.

His fingers slid easily over my sex, my nectar lubricating the tight entrance, facilitating his explorations. He pushed a single finger between my nether lips. He groaned as he felt the wet heat of my tight little crevice. He could not insert his entire finger into me; my maidenhead prevented his full exploration.

He contented himself by teasing the slippery walls, rubbing the sensitive velvet surfaces, swirling his finger around, and gently moving it in and out. He delighted in the reactions his little forays caused: the sweet low moans that fell from my lips; the wild gyrations of my lithe body; the pulsing of my moist cavern; and the lust-filled gaze that I turned to his face…

The sweet friction his finger caused electrified me…made my head spin… My body arched and bucked; I trembled so much the water lapped against the sides of the bathing pool. I uttered nonsense syllables…crooning and cooing and moaning uncontrollably…

My body strained to reach something…I did not know what it was I wanted…but I ached for it. He played with my body, bringing me to the edge of the unknown…his hands moving over my flesh…teasing and torturing and soothing…

I looked at him and began to beg. “Please Hassan…please…” He laughed, knowing I did not know what I was begging for. He suddenly pulled his hands away and stood me up in the tub, and rose himself. I whimpered, my body glowing with lust.

He gently toweled me down, and dried himself. He clothed me in silk robes before donning a robe himself. Then he brought me to his bedroom.

He sat me down on his bed and asked me whether I would let him take his pleasure in his body. I immediately nodded. He laughed, and tilted my chin to look deep into my eyes. He asked if I was aware of the consequences of my words. I whispered huskily, “I know what will happen. You will take my maidenhead. I want you to…I don’t want anyone else to touch me as you have.” He shook his head, laughing a little at my naiveté. He caressed my cheek, saying, “If your parents find out…” and I immediately interrupted, “I don’t care. Please Hassan, my body aches, and I don’t understand what it aches for…please…pleasure me…make the ache go away…” He groaned, “I can deny you nothing my flower…”

He drew the silks away from my body as delicately as if I were truly a flower. He removed his own robes, and I let my eyes feast on his body; dwelling on the mighty shaft that throbbed between his legs. I whimpered at the sight of the swollen purple head…the dark veins that throbbed through his thick brown shaft. He laid me gently on the bed and parted my legs, carefully studying the soft pink lips of my sex. He bent his head, and I felt the warmth of his breath as he whispered, “You are truly a flower, beloved.” Then I knew nothing but pleasure, as his mouth lowered onto the silken petals of my sex…

How can I describe the pleasures he brought me with his mouth? Even today, my body softens and moistens as I recall the feel of his tongue on my heated flesh. The way it curled around the little button…the way it probed between the engorged lips… I mewled and bucked wantonly…my hands clutching as his hair. I thrust myself against him, rubbing my quim over his face, anointing his mouth and chin in my honeyed nectar. I felt my senses spiraling…heat built within me…my body overwhelmed by a conflagration of lust and ecstasy…

I screamed then…my body arching into a taut bow…my sex pulsing…floods of sweet juices inundating his mouth…

He drank deeply…but kept my pleasure stoked by flicking his finger repeatedly over my little button. As my body continued to quiver and spasm, he raised himself and suddenly plunged his shaft deep into my love hole.

I screamed again as a sudden bolt of pain ripped through me. I struggled, trying to buck him off me, but only succeeding in impaling myself deeper on his shaft. When I realized that, I stopped moving, my lips trembling as tears ran down my face. I cried out, “it hurts, Hassan…O Allah, how it hurts me!”

He pressed tiny kisses all over my face. I marvel now at the control he had… He kept himself perfectly still, though I could feel his manhood throb and swell inside my tiny crevice. He soothed me with gentle caresses and soft words. Slowly…so slowly, he pulled his hips back…and I felt his shaft rub against the soft velvet walls of my sex. I whimpered…his girth was such that it stretched my tightness, my walls were pressed tightly around his shaft. Equally slowly, he sheathed himself again in me…burying his length in the soft wet heat that engulfed it. He repeated these motions…his shaft sliding out of the warm prison and returning…over and over.

Without realizing it, my cries of pain turned into cries of ecstasy… My body began to move, meeting his motions, hips straining to meet his as he re-sheathed himself in my body. Inarticulate cries of joy emanated from me; my hands curled around his back, moved down to his firm buttocks, and pulled him to me. At the same time, my legs went up, and wrapped around his trim waist.

I cried out… “More, give me more sweetness!” demandingly driving my heels into his back… And he began to move faster, his body driving mine deep into the bed. Our bodies slapped…the sweet nectar from my quim drenched his shaft, easing his passage. I could feel the walls of my sex clasping at his shaft…He began to growl…his body thrusting harder…in quicker, less controlled motions.

I felt my senses begin to spiral again… the pleasure grew…waves and waves of it crashing through my body… I wailed in ecstasy as my pleasure peaked… the spasms of my sodden sex squeezing his throbbing organ in delicious ripples. I heard him roar…and then felt a surge of liquid heat pulse into my body… He yelled… “O Allah, I die!” his body crashing into mine, again and again as his cock pulsated and spurted sticky streams of white hot seed into my eager receptacle.

I fainted then… when I awoke, he was kissing my face, and cleaning my sex with a moist towel. He whispered, “The rains have stopped, dearest. I must bring you home now.” I nodded, moving languidly off the bed. He took one look at my face and laughed … “Little flower, your pleasure is so obvious. One glance will tell your parents what we have been doing this afternoon.”

I laughed, and tried to compose myself. He pulled me to him and kissed me once more, before he took me home. We acquitted ourselves admirably; my parents never knew what he and I had been up to that day. It was my introduction to pleasure; and I went to bed that night secure in the knowledge that I would be experiencing more of the pleasure with Hassan.