The House Of Falsa

I should have known better.

I met Samar in a chat room I visited frequently. We hit it off and soon we were emailing each other on a daily basis.

We had much in common even though he lived in Saudi Arabia and I in Canada.

We both attended university. I was attending Laurier University studying Chemistry and Samar was attending King Fahd University in Dhahran close to the Persian Gulf. Samar was studying Petroleum Engineering and hoping to land a position with Sauidi Aramco, a large petroleum refining company nearby.

We were both dedicated to our studies and spent little time socializing, I had been to a few sorority parties and even got involved in some heavy petting with a couple of guys, feeling my boobs and trying to go under my skirt, that sort of thing.

I did not have a regular boyfriend and was still a virgin at nineteen.

One day when we were chatting Samar asked if I would consider coming to visit him. He said his family were quite wealthy and would gladly pay my airfare to Saudi Arabia.

I was overwhelmed. The March Break was coming up and I would have two weeks without studies.

I told Samar if his family wanted me to come I would be pleased to accept their invitation.

Samar had explained to me that Dhahran was a company owned metropolis. All of its citizens were employees of Sauidi Aramco, the largest oil refining company in the world. There were no poor, no unemployed or homeless people. When seniors reached sixty-five plus they were relegated to residential compounds outside the city.

Although Sauidi Aramco is totally government owned life in Dhahran was not subject to the strict Saudi Muslim law that other Saudis were.

Women were allowed to drive and did not have to abide by the Muslin dress code for women. The authorities turned a blind eye on the consumption of alcohol as long as it did not create a problem. The one thing they were very strict on was health issues.

If a resident was detected positive on their annual A.I.D.S. test they were deported immediately.

English was the commonly used language so Dhahran remained pretty well Americanized from its previous days.

Samar pointed out that there was an acute shortage of marriageable females in Dhahran as there was no high school.

He assured me that I would like it there.

When I boarded the Qatar A330 at London's Gatwick airport it was like entering a place out of the Arabian Nights.

There were no seats but 180-degree flatbeds. Each passenger had their own personal telephone, power point for a laptop and a personal television monitor to watch a wide range of the latest English and Arabic movies.

I was also supplied with a feather duvet, slippers, pajamas and an overnight amenity kit.

Shortly after takeoff the stewardess rolled around the food cart.

Ten course meals that included caviar, lobster, prawns, Arabic mezzas, fine chocolates, cheese platters and the finest wines from the old and new worlds.

This was not a mere airplane flight. I was being transported into a storybook world!

All too soon I heard the landing gear of the giant A330 clunking down as the pilot employed it on his final approach to Dhahran airport. The giant aluminum bird gracefully touched down at what was to be my home for the next two weeks.

A uniformed chauffeur met me with a gleaming gunmetal gray B.M.W. Loading my meager belongings into the Beamer's boot he whisked me away to meet my hosts.

Samar's family was of the House of Saud, the ruling class of the Arabic states.

When we arrived at the Faisal household I was greeted by a welcoming committee of seventeen Saudi men attired in their finest thobes looking properly solemn for the occasion. Samar stood next to his father, Abdul Rahman bin Falsa, a truly impressive man in is senior years.

Standing well over six feet I height the patriarch of the family demanded the respect of all in his presence.

"Greetings young American." He acknowledged me.

Saudis referred to all pale-skinned English speaking people as "Americans."

I worked my way along the reception line of the Faisal gentry as the graciously kissed my hand. Having presented me to the final nephew Abdul had one of his staff show me to my quarters.

The room was enormous, wall to wall silks ands satins surrounding the huge canopied bed dominating the room.

There were two servants waiting by a porcelain tub filled with soapy water to bathe me, male servants!

Unceremoniously they began to disrobe me, unfastening my blouse and skirt and removing them. I stood still as my bra and panties were taken off.

One took my hand as I stepped naked into the bathtub.

I sank up to my breasts in the soothing tepid water whilst sponges caress my body. Busy hands were seeking all the recesses of my intimate places. Strangely I did not feel embarrassed as these men skillfully bathed me.

A large terry sheet was held to wrap me as I stood in the bath with soap suds running down my naked body. Once again hands busied themselves drying every damp recess as I enjoyed their attention.

As I stood naked before them one applied a warm lather to my pubic hair whilst the other skillfully shaved off my bush with a gleaming straight razor. I winced as he carefully removed every strand of hair from my crotch.

I was guided over to the bed and laid across the expanse of smooth silk. One of the two men produced a flask of scented oil which was poured onto my bare skin. Once again hands were caressing me messaging the unction into my thirsty skin.

I felt so alive, I tingled everywhere.

Without conversation my two attendants exited the room leaving me naked on the bed.

What was next I wondered?

I did not have to wait long before my boudoir door open and in walked Abdul Rahman bin Falsa still wearing his splendid thobe.

It was the custom of the Saudis to offer a young maiden to the family patriarch for his pleasure before she was defiled by other males.

Silently the elder Falsa removed his clothing and naked he mounted me.

I opened my legs and offered him my virginity.

He took me slowly and gently, accustom to deflowering countless virgins over his many years. His cock slowly worked its way into my untouched nook as I stifled my pain. Finally I felt his pubic hair touch my freshly shaven mound.

As he embraces me he slowly begins to fuck my tense hole.

A man more than triple my age has taken my virginity.

Abdul fucked me slow and leisurely, enjoying the tightness of my youthful body. I wrapped my legs around his hips drawing him into the sanctuary of my inner chamber. He made strange animal-like noises as he reveled in my wetness.

The seed of centuries of generations of the House of Falsa flowed into my womb as Abdul blessed me with his sperm. I was now a Falsa whore!

Abdul stayed with me a considerable length on time and dipped his very old cock into me a second time adding to his previous blessing.

Finally after his departure from my chambers the two servants reenter for the purpose of cleaning their master's mess from between my legs, with their tongues!

I closed my eyes enjoying the sensation of tongues dueling inside of me for the bounty Abdul had left in me.

Sleep took me after experiencing an intense oral inspired orgasm.

I know not how long I had been asleep when I felt Samar crawl into the bed beside me.

"Did you like my father?" he asked seeing my eyes open.

I smiled my approval.

"He said you were very fine." Samar grinned encouragingly.

"It is my turn to have you." Samar told me, "Next my brothers will sample your lovely body."

"How many brothers do you have?" I asked Samar.

"Seventeen." Samar boasted, But two are not old enough to lay with a woman yet.

So after Samar I was to be fucked by fifteen more of his brothers.