Salam (Hello), it's your girl, Shahnaz Tabrizi a.k.a. dokhtar dewane (Crazy girl), your eyes and ears into Tehran's party and sex orgies underworld. This is my third instalment and takes place during the wild excesses that I was engaged in. To bring you up to speed, I now have a boyfriend who is Armenian Christian and his name is Alexan, but we are in an open relationship and so I still sleep around. Inter-ethnic and Interfaith relationships are not easy in Tehran. During the piece, I cheat on him (behind his back) once, but we both attend an orgy at a private home. I am arrested and thus the piece opens up with the interrogation and then I go back to the beginning. Enjoy.
"They're dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there's anyone left alive!" Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-glass.
Two women in black Chadors or singular black cloaks covering their shapeless body and hair, but with their faces revealed. I am sitting in a chair while they walk back and forth across the room. I look down at the floor of the police station. As the women walk they are insulting and humiliating me.
"You're such a dirty girl, what you did was wrong. Have you no morals?" One says.
"Abnormal, you're behaviour is not normal. You are sick and your desires are perverted, you are a pervert. A sexual deviate, where do you think you are? You think you can behave as you like? Did you not think of your family?" The other says.
"You are a bad girl, a slut and you corrupt the morals of our society."
I stay quiet and cry. I start thinking back to a few days ago.
Few days ago,
Once upon a time in Iran, there was a queen who ruled over her palace with impunity, she never ventured out into the streets unless she had official business. She thought she was free to do as she pleased, but in reality, the palace was an opulent prison or a golden cage that kept her trapped within her walls. There are two masks the queen must wear, one public and the other private, she must not wear the wrong mask in the wrong place or the King would be angry. It's understood that the streets belong to the King and the house the Queen. But what would astonish the queen is that other Iranian too, wears masks and the same two at that. They call it Taarof or social etiquette, everything is a performance and life is about rituals, Chutzpah would never make inroads in Persia.
In Iran everyone's a storyteller and nuisance is vital to every story. Nobody says quite what they mean and working out meaning is detective work. It's the Shia Religious holiday of Ashura in Iran, a day of ritual, symbolism and storytelling. Every act has its meaning. Wealthy families hire boys from religious studies seminars to come to their house and recite and read from Islamic holy texts and stories. Grandmothers settle their grandchildren around them and tell stories of the distant past with elegant princess and evil villains. On this day, single Iranian woman go to beauty parlours and get their hair and make-up done. For while the day is about mourning the passing of important Islamic religious figure, it's also a day where boy meets girl.
Men parade themselves through the streets shirtless while carrying knives or chains and they whack themselves in ritualistic fashion. Woman with their latest clothes, stand on the side watching and smiling, in the hop they can pick up the right guy at the end of the procession. Many meet their future husbands at such processions. I stand in the crowd in my expensive designer clothing and loose hijab with sunglasses, watching the processions, in the hope of meeting a hunky guy for a quikie. The other day I learnt the term Nymphomaniac, I have an addictive personality and because sexual activities and non-sexual daily frustrations have been pushed underground in Iran, I'm unable to distinguish right from wrong or control my desires. Merely mask it. Sex is beautiful, it's how I express my individuality and creativity, but this makes have a monogamous relationship difficult.
My sexuality is classed as a rebellion against the regime by some, but I, like others who do what I do, don't really see that. We've gone way beyond politics, our lives have become meaningless and things have lost their value. The sense of greater loss to wider things has given way to personal power brought about by sexual exploits.
Standing here and a hot guy have caught my attention and I know I'm going to be a bad girl again. He's whacking himself, trying to show off to the girls, with his large biceps and Greek-god like facial features. It's amazing isn't it, the true spiritual value of this day and commemoration is lost on me and others and has given away to personal need. But that's enough reflection, time for some action.
I smile at his flirtatiously and give him a glance in the eye, he acknowledges and as soon as the procession is done, he approaches me.
"Salam, how are you? My my, what a fine day it is and the day grows finer still. I have nothing but the most honorable intensions towards you and if I may speak with you a moment." He says.
I don't feel like going through the chasing game today, I just want to get straight to the point.
"Hahhaaa..very tiring..have you come to chat trivialities? Because a girl like me has no time for small talk. But if you got a car than I may have something special and nice for you. What will it be?"
He seems taken aback, but turned on nonetheless and he quickly agrees and we head for his car. "My name is Ali," he says.
"I don't care for your name, only your ride." I respond, "Let's go deep into the Alboroz Mountains and take this further."
We head up the mountain in his jeep, we get to a secluded spot and he stops the car and looks nervously at me. I have no time for romance or small talk, he's not my boyfriend, so no mouth to mouth kissing. I also have no time for his hesitation, if he can't man up than I will have to woman up and man-up for the both of us. He tries to talk, but I pay no attention, I undo my seat belt and lean my head in and go straight for his pants.
I pull on his belt and undid it, yanked it off and then undid the button on his pants and flies. I pulled his pants down and then his underwear in quick succession. He seems amazed and has frozen, but he urges me to be careful and slow down, which I ignore. His cock is trying to grow, but is struggling and I decided to speed the process up. I grab his cock and squeeze it hard and then start jerking it off.
I spit on his cock in rapid succession and aggressively rub the spit in, I'm like a woman possessed and I am not quite sure why? I spit and drool all over his cock, I leave nothing undrooled or unspat on. I also massage my saliva in too, which his cock seems even more responsive too. He has a shocked but aroused look on his face. I stick my tongue out and start licking his cock from head to base, much like the way you strip a wall of wall paper, this is what this looked like. I stuck his cock into my mouth and began sucking, slurping and biting away. I like to leave teeth marks as I go along; it's my sexual calling card.
I have my mouth full of cock, I push him down my throat and a lump emerges in my throat. I encourage him to throat fuck, but he seems hesitant and so I have to use his cock and throat fuck myself. My mouth salivates and both my mouth and his penis becomes watery, his penis is getting harder. I am afraid he's going to cum and so I spit him out. He's not allowed to cum yet, he hasn't given me the full range of pleasure!!
I pull down my jeans and jump onto his lap, I place his penis inside my pussy, I push pass my outer lips and deep into my inner sanctum. I jump up and down, riding him well. Up and down and up and down in repeated fashion. But as I am getting into it, he goes and cums. I feel my pussy filing up with liquid. Fucking typical, why can't guys hold their own?