My Private Iran

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 second blog entry and it has been an orgasmic few days, but also confusing few days. I've been splitting my time between Qom and Tehran and below is my account of the last few days.

Sexually forbidding place Tehran has been in the last few days. Walking through the streets with pictures of Khomeini and Khamenei looking down with forbidding eyes at a populace. Pictures of young boys, who were martyred during the Iran-Iraq war and clear signs of commemorations, which are due to take place for the war that claimed a million lives in the 1980's.My mother and I are heading out to Behesht-e Zahra or Zahra's Paradise, which is Iran's largest cemetery and its believed to contain 1.3 million graves. It's particularly famous for housing the war dead and my mother's uncle Mehdi is buried there. He was killed in 1984 when the Iraqis using chemical weapons (supplied by the Americans) and gassed his regiment.

But while visiting the cemetery, I find it hard to concentrate on the dead, I'm too busy thinking about being penetrated. Last night, I watched a bootleg American Porn DVD and watching all these hulky, meaty and hot American men with juicy penises fucking some big-tit whore made me rub my pussy ferociously all night. I wonder if these big boys would love to fuck an Iranian girl? I think interracial sex is a beautiful thing. I almost drool at the thought of it, but suddenly remember that I am in a cemetery and must stay focused. But what I wouldn't give to have a nice, juicy and messy American cock in my mouth. Filthy, uncut and wrong mmmmm....

I manage to regain enough composure to pretend I am interested in my surrounding, my mother places flowers on Mehdi's grave and says a little pray. There are pictures of him on his well-decorated grave and I stare at him and think of a wasted life. I will not waste my life to empower someone else. We soon leave the cemetery and I jump into our Honda and we head to Qom, my mother is driving and I am reading Voltaire. It's less than a two-hour drive to Qom and we soon arrive.

Qom- what can I say about the place? It's the religious center of Iran, most of the clerics who run Iran have either their origins or bases here. It's full of mosques and religious schools and seminaries called Madrassas- students flock here from across the Shia world to study Theology, Jurisprudence, Religious Cannons, Rhetoric, Logic, Grammar, Natural Philosophy, Metaphysical Philosophy, Philosophy of Mathematics and Science among other things. There is no parallel to this education system in the contemporary West, its closer to Ancient Greek Philosophical schools and the likes of Plato and Aristotle would be more at home here than in Oxford or Harvard. My father teaches here and I've come to see him.

Because I am visiting Qom, I am wearing a tight black Hijab with no hairs showing, but I am still wearing jeans. The locals know I am a Tehrani girl and many look at me disapprovingly, they think girls from Tehran are rich snobbish sluts, which is pretty bad as I have to spend a few days here. I enter my father's office, he's sitting behind his desk and there is a man sitting in-front of him. We greet one another and my father introduces me to the man sitting down.

"This is Michael Salman Anderson, he comes from America and is one of my students. My best student actually. He's only been Muslim for three-years, but already he can beat any born Muslim with his piety, steadfastness, devotion and with his spiritual knowledge." My father laughs and Michael looks embarrassed.

He places his hand on his chest to greet me, he wouldn't dare stick his hand out to shake mine, and most pious Muslim men will not shake a woman's hand. Converts tend to be the most religious serious, but despite his almost forbidding and austere nature. He was so beautiful with his long blonde hair, blonde beard and moustache, piercing blue eyes and pale skin. He addressed me with a thick American accent and I knew I wanted him.

But getting him would be difficult, I could not do classical seduction and I had to do it with the utmost discretion. I need to entice him and make it impossible for him to refuse me. He tries hard not to stare at me and I know he wants me and so I turn my warm Iranian charm on. He seems flattered and embarrassed at the same time. I cannot go too far or reveal my hand in-front of my father and so I stop with the pleasantries, and my father and I, go off.

A few hours later and I am walking alone and I spot Michael sitting on a public bench, I decide to run into the store next to me and buy two ice creams. I buy a freezer pop for myself and plan to approach Michael, while I am eating and sucking it, and I hope it will send him a message. I walk over to him, "Michael, hi how are you?" I unwrap the pop and slowly stick it into my mouth.

"Oh, ahhhh, hi Shahnaz...How are you?" He seems surprised and a little bit sweaty, but he has eyed me up and down and is trying to hide his obvious attraction to me.

"I'm good, very good. May I take a seat?"

"Sure.."

I take a seat and offer him the second freezer pop I bought, which he accepts, but as I hand it to him I notice his arm is shaking. I try to calm him down and start asking him about his time in Qom and his life. I watch his lips move with increasing confidence, I smile and look at him deeply, and notice how aroused he is becoming.

"You know what is great about our religion?" I say to him in a slow fashion, while pausing to suck on my freezer pop some more. "It's the central importance it places on sexual and erotic pleasure, within the confines of marriage of course. But nonetheless it's there, a woman has the right to divorce her husband if he does not sexually satisfy her. Some Sufi poets use sexual imagery and activity to bring them closer to the divine."

Michael looks uneasy, "Most Iranian girls don't talk about sex that openly, what's going on?"

"I'm not most girls, I'm the daughter of a mulla. I'm not a typical Persian girl, probably because I am Azeri Turkish. I notice how you look at me, it must be hard to be devout and pious in this day and age. I really do admire what you have done, but leading an austere life must be difficult. It can be hard to concentrate when your distracted and I want to help you get closer to the divine by ending this distraction. It's a very restricting life-style, you must just want a release. A chance to relieve yourself."

"Stop it..devil woman...get away from me." But he can't get away from me, he too tempted and turned on. I bet his cock is so stiff, he can barely walk.

I place my hand around his neck, "Don't be so afaird, I'm here to help you. I've always wanted a big strong American man and I suggest we do the honorable thing. We can do Mu'tah (temporary religious marriage) for a few days and then we can depart ways and you can get back to your life and studies. I like to help people you see. Plus when you are with or studying under my father and he is harsh or strict with you, you can feel pleased you had his daughter."

Michael looks like he is fighting temptation, "When you're walking in a field and you see a tree and attached to this tree is the reediest apple you've ever seen. Is it not a crime not to take a bite? After all, what is the beauty around us, but the greatest evidence of divine manifestation. Thus to eat the apple is not a mere act of wiping away hunger, it's an act of devotion, because to taste the ripest of fruit is to appreciate and learn of the genius of the maker. If that be so for fruit, is it not more so for females?" I ask him.

I notice a twitch in his crotch area and I know that I have nearly broken him and all it needs is one finial act. I know exactly what to do, I move in closely towards him and being blowing air gently onto his cheek. It works he snaps and agrees to the temporary marriage. We travel across Qom to find a Mullah who will perform the five-minute service. We find one and agree to a week-long marriage.

We rent an apartment, not too far from the Ayatollahas quarter in old Qom, but we don't immediately get down to business. In order to get the most out of the week, we go out and about, to normalise us as a couple, which I hope will lead to better sex-because he will be more comfortable with me. We go around all the sites, before returning back. I head off to the bathroom to get dressed into a black cocktail dress and set my hair free and allow it to flow. Slipping on high heel shoes, I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen, there I grab a bowl and put a selection of different color grapes. I also pour bootleg wine into two glasses and head into the living room, where Michael is sitting on the couch.

I place the bowl and wine on the coffee table in-front of me. But Michael slips back into a nervous state and starts shaking, "This is wrong, you're wrong." He repeats and I decide to calm him down with poetry recitation. It's at times like this I turn to the mystical poet Rumi.

"Calm down...When I am with you, we stay up all night. When you're not here, I can't sleep. Praise God for these two Insomnias! And the difference between them." He is slowly calming down, "With the Beloved's water of life, no illness remains. In the Beloved's rose garden of union, no thorn remains. They say there is a window from one heart to another, how can there be a window where no wall remains?"

I take a sip of wine and hand a glass to Michael, he immediately rebukes, he asks me how we can drink alcohol when its clearly forbidden. I know just the poem for him, "I drink wine and opponents from the left and right say, drink no wine for it is against faith. Since I know that it's against faith, by God let me drink, for the blood of my enemies is acceptable to me." Michael starts drinking and I place my hand on his crotch area and stroke above his jeans. I love the effect I have on men.

I pick up a bundle of grapes and begin feeding Michael, while I gently stroke, touch and grope him above his clothes. I suddenly escalate my previously gentle action and I stand up and sit back down on Michael's lap. No sooner than my butt makes contact with his crotch, that I feel a stiff thing pointing through his jeans and pushing up against my butt. "Ohh..my my. For a good boy, you are awfully stiff. But can a good boy handle a girl like me?" I begin rocking back and forth on his crotch.

Harder and harder he becomes. There's no stopping him and I now. He grabs me by the arms and I turn around to face him, while still sitting in his crotch. I wrap my arms around him and he says, "You know in the States, we have a word for girls like you. Maneater."

"Who satisfyith the mouth with good things, making the young lusty like an eagle." I say as I move in to kiss him on the lips. Our lips at first brush, but then manage elongated contact, like eating the delicious apple, we take out time and start off with small bites that turn into bigger ones.

My tongue enters into his mouth, which surprises him greatly, pleasantly I am sure, but surprised nonetheless. The poor fool thought he had left America the land of vice and lust and came to Iran the land of purity and virtue and instead he finds himself in the land of lustful youth. The Iranian libido is like a volcano, much of the year lava oozes over the top, but every now and again there is an eruption. My tongue helps to salivate his mouth and his mine, we keep exchanging tongues, as well as mouthful fluids.

I can feel the room temperature increasing, sweat permeates Michael's brow, but rather than allowing it to dangle, I extend my tongue and wipe away the sweat. I begin kissing and licking his forehead, then I work my tongue down his cheeks and around his neck. I bite away and leave red marks across his neck, I act like I am a woman possessed, like a lustful demon has taken over my body and I am desperate to get it out of me. I am leading this thing and I hope he realizes, that Iranian woman are always in-charge. I am a child of the revolution, a slut born of the Islamic Republic and I take no prisoners-only jizz-but never prisoners.

I rip of his t-shirt, I see nipples before me and know what to do. Wasting no time, I move in and my tongue encircles his nipples and I lick across them, which sends a tingling sensation across his body. I suck on his nipples like I would suck his cock, I start off by teasing, licking, sucking and then biting and I look up at him with my big eyes. He is going wild, the look on his face of an intrepid explorer, who is only aroused by dangerous journeys and encounters with wild creatures. Yes, I should be in a zoo in America, I should be in a cage with a red blanket covering the cage. A show master should gather an audience and unveil the cage from the sheet and cry, behold the Iranian woman, no pictures, do not arouse the beast therein for she is a lusty creature.

I spit onto his nipples and rub it in, I do not leave a spot unspat on. I force him to open his mouth and from a distance, I unleash a drool, which is thick, slimy and I allow it to dangle in mid-air until it falls into his mouth and he swallows. I begin to nibble on his earlobes and blow air into his ears, I want him to know, how perverted I am. I whisper into his ear, "I am a child of the Islamic Republic and I know no bound." I then kiss down his body until I reach his crotch area. I kiss above his clothed crotch area and quip, "What lies beneath is the stuff of poetry, It's the wine of Hafez, indeed it's a Diwan of its own."

I pull down his pants and underwear and there it is, staring at me, the pride of American manhood and masculinity. I closed my eyes and in-some way gave thanks to the authors of Persian poetry for giving me the words to describe the feeling of awe and joy that has befallen me. Am I worthy? Of course I am.

Two of my fingers grip his cock and I place my face in close proximity to it. I examine it, like a biologist examines something they have never seen, before dissecting it. I take a moment to appreciate this marvel of natural craftsmanship. I blow air onto it to see how male gentiles react to Iranian H20, and conclude the chain reaction of the coming together of these two elements of nature is an erection. Of course, good science needs to be tested more than once and so I repeat the experiment. The results seem pretty conclusive.

I extend my tongue out to this foreign object and in a way, I feel like an Anthropologist entering into a rain forest to study a tribe they have never encountered before. Unsure of the reaction of the tribe or who is friend of foe. But as soon as my tongue brushes the tip, I know I am in familiar territory. His human warmth leaves a distinct impression on my tongue, which process the taste and salivates my mouth to produce spit and drool. I spit onto his tip and gently rub the spit in. I start to lick from the tip to the base in broad strokes of the tongue. Like Da Vinci working on Mona Lisa, I take my art very seriously and the detail and care I put into my blow jobs is very meticulous.

I lift his penis upwards and start licking underneath his balls, biting, sucking and swallowing each nut and teasing it with my tongue. I then work my tongue upwards again and push his cock down again, I then start drooling on it. I allow the drool to hang in the air for a few moments, once it lands, I aggressively rub it in. Groans and grunts is the extent of his contribution, but being a show girl, the audience is enjoyment is critical. I place my entire mouth onto his cock and begin to suck, I push him in and out of my mouth. I mouth fuck him, he's my bitch at this moment.

I push his cock further and further down my mouth until it reaches the gates of my throat. I take a moment-before-attempting to push his cock down my throat. I cough and chock a little, but I solider on nonetheless and like a real trooper, I manage to get his cock down my throat. I encourage him to throat fuck me, which he does in sporadic bursts, the rest of the time I am fucking him off in my throat. It creates and Adams Apple like ball or lump in the middle of my neck and my throat is being backed-up with precum. I swallow in quick successions. Round after round and hot load after hot load, I take everything down and do not waste a drop.

My breath now smell of precum, but I demanded it be so. I look up at Michael with my big eyes, while I suck his cock. He is groaning so loudly, that I am afraid the police are going to hear. Suddenly, he discharges a large deposit, clearly my warm tongue on his manhood is having a positive effect on him. Pretty soon is cuming, left-right-and center and from every direction. My mouth is filling up with hot cum. I withdraw my mouth from his cock and play around with his cum in my mouth.

I drool it out, onto my arm, before re-licking it. I regurgitate a few times, let it swim around my mouth like mouth wash, before finally swallowing it all. I allow the enzymes in my mouth to break down the cum and take out the nutrients, protein and possible starch. Who says cum is bad for you? Once all is swallowed, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue to show him that the deed is done.

I now stand up and stand on the couch, I beckon him to lick my pussy. He places his mouth onto my pussy and begin to work on my lower outer lip. I raise my head and cry out, "Good boy, that's it, right there. Yes, hit the spot babe." His tongue, mouth and teeth go to task on it and leave no area of my outer lips unaffected. Like a hurricane he blows heavy winds onto my sensitive outer lips. His tongue gradually works its way into my inner lips and reaches the gates of my inner sanctum or the forbidden city of hidden wonder, as I like to call it.

I push my pussy into his face and hold the back of his head. He struggles to breath and knows the only way out it too lick his way out. And lick he does, he never though he's have a mouth full of pussy, when he woke up today. He penetrates the walls of my forbidden city like a Mongol invader and my internal defense are compromised by it. Deeper and deeper he goes and like the Khans of the Mongol Steppe, he soon has complete control of it.

I surrender my pussy to his tongue and he creates untold levels of pleasure for me. I begin to leak onto his face, his outer mouth and lips are covered in my cum. I push harder into his mouth and pretty soon this leak turns into a flood and he starts gulping down large sways of female juice. I force him to swallow every drop, nothing goes to waste, my pussy juice is too precious.

After he has swallowed it all, I drop onto his lap, I pull his cock upwards and place it inside my warm pussy. I motion upwards and then downwards, then sideways, I ride him like a horse. My pussy is being expanded by his huge cock, indeed this is proving to be quite a stretch, but more importantly it's stretching my imagination. I can now imagine future possibilities, but for the meantime, I am in a stick situation, quite literally. The she-devil is awake and is looking for her next victim, this cock is such a victim.

This is a bouncing game, it's like being on a bouncing castle, and only my pussy is getting what it deserves. I will physically exhaust him, use him and abuse him. While riding him, I slap him across the face, because I believe the world needs balance. Pleasure must be followed by pain. But really I do it to assert my authority over him. Oh my pussy is really expanding. Oh yeah...

20 minutes, 30 minutes and finally 40 minutes pass, my pussy is incredibly moist and has been softened by it. I feel cum pouring out of my pussy and I feel it being poured into my pussy. Two bits of cum meet one another and mix. They become one. Relief is at hand, Michael can't stop cuming and neither can I. There so much of the white hot stuff. We eventually stop.