Abigail and Adam Berman was a strange couple. Like a dog and its owner, most couples after they are together for a number of years have a tendency to look similar; like river rocks, subject to the same currents and weather for centuries. This couple did not seem to match.
Adam Berman had been married before and had a 40-year old son. He (Adam) had been a college professor of English since he had emigrated to the U.S. as a young man and had completed college for an undergraduate and master's in Journalism. He was a bit of a shrimp as far as men go. He was bald across the top and had the usual Jewish nose (air is free.)
Abigail had resisted getting married until later in life. She had had some bitter experiences growing up, and had a hard time interacting with men close to her age. She had met Adam during a writing class which she had taken as a hobby and known him more as a writer.
She did not make a big deal about her work to most people. She had received a degree in programming and spent most of her time writing programs for several high profile companies for the fifteen years since she graduated. She was good with French, Spanish, German, Hebrew and Farsi.
She had made many trips to France, Germany and most of the Arab countries. She did not like going to the Arab countries because of the pressure to conform to Arab standards and being segregated into U.S. compounds.
She had married her husband thinking she could probably learn to love him eventually. She probably could not have been allowed to travel in the Arab countries if she was perceived to be single. With a husband, he could drive the car and escort her everywhere.
Abby did not realize that Adam's son, Ben, was in the Mussad. They had both been rather secretive about his background and work most of the time they had known each other.
Finally, she came home one day, and Ben, Adam and several other men in expensive suits were sitting in the living room. When she came in, the other men left, except for Ben and Adam. "Abigail, we need a favor from you." Ben said.
"What's going on?" she replied.
There is a man we are interested in who you know."
"Who's that?" she asked.
"We know that you had spent some time with Ahmad Ali when you were in school."
Abigail remembered the name vaguely. After thinking about it, she remembered that she had been a freshman. Ahmad had been a senior in Nuclear Engineering. They had spent most of a couple of semesters with some other students working on FORTRAN, COBOL, and C+
Ahmad had been a foreign student that could stay only until his education had been completed. His government was paying for everything so he had a huge apartment, nice clothes, nice car, and a comfortable lifestyle. His house was big enough that they all went there to study. It was convenient, because most of the students were dirt poor. On Sundays, the cafeteria at the dorm was closed for dinner, and the students had to go out to eat somewhere. That was where they decided to study, on Sunday night, because Ali was always eager to make friends. He always had enough money to order all kinds of food.
Ahmad had the idea that if he got married, he might be able to stay. He showed a keen interest in Abigail. She had been a late bloomer. In high school, she wore thick glasses; was long legged; knock-kneed, and fairly flat chested. She wore dowdy clothes and her long red hair and freckles were a bit of a turn-off compared to the girls who tanned more easily and had surgically enhanced front ends.
He thought she might be easy pickings; because she was relatively homely, introverted, and few other men showed an interest in her. Still, she was flattered, but women seem to have a strange inner sense of when they are being targeted. She had been able to walk that narrow tightrope of being polite, deceptively naive, and oblivious to his interest.
She had been young, but was aware of the underlying motives behind Ahmad's flirtatious affection for her. She had tried to stay polite and civil to him, because she needed him for help in her engineering classes. Unable to land a wife, he had been forced to go back to work for his government.
During her college years, she got some laser surgery to correct a wandering eye. Her years of running intervals in high school and college firmed up her muscles. She did not stumble when she walked anymore. She seemed to glide across the room. Her buttocks and legs just seemed to tighten and loosen. As she aged, her easily sunburned complexion seemed to tan more easily. The freckles were a faint pattern under her now bronzed complexion. She had started to put streaks of blond in her long red hair.
Ben said that Ahmad had become a leading figure in the nuclear movement of Iran. He was instrumental in developing their nuclear plants and they believed he was the lead engineer in refining plutonium into a weapons grade material. They felt it would be just a matter of time until they had nuclear bomb capability.
"Abigail, you already know him. We want you to see what you can find out about their weapons program, the sophistication of their plutonium refinement, and where all of their underground facilities are."
Abigail had no idea Ben was as involved as he was in the struggle between Israel and Iran. It made sense. With his father being a U.S. citizen and Ben being born in the U.S. it was unlikely that he would be suspected by the Iranians as a member of an Israeli investigation unit.
Abigail and never thought of doing anything like this. "What do I have to do?" she asked, trying to mask her reluctance.
"We are going to send you to Iran with a busload of tourists. We have scheduled the stops to the Museums to coincide with what we believe to be a schedule that will coincide with a conference he is attending.
"He has not married. He is not aware that you are married. You are to pretend you are single. We need to see if he will try to impress you with what he has done and show you around. If nothing else, maybe you can plant a tracking virus in one of his computers. We are hoping it will be able to travel from his laptop or a flash drive he might have into the nuclear reactors. If we can get a bug into his nuclear reactors, we can get up-to-date information from it. We might even be able to speed them up out of control and convince them they screwed up their own reactor."
Abigail was naive enough to not completely understand the danger she was in.
"How long will this take?" she asked.
"Hopefully everything can happen during a one week trip. Your husband can go along as another tourist. They have no idea you two know each other. We have made the passports so you have your maiden name. We have updated and revised your Facebook to show your life without being married. Any kind of sleuthing by the Iranians will show that you have been single. Ahmad already knows you, and there should not be any reason to suspect anything.
You have a good week to familiarize yourself with anything we have posted about you and your time since the two of you knew each other.
Abigail was on pins and needles for the next week; trying to make sure she knew everything about her new identity. She had been tutored with a series of programs they had given her on a flash drive. A number of them could be activated by different cell phones. They had bugged her and her husband's room and the one Ahmad was scheduled to use. The rooms had been carefully selected so Abby, Adam and Ben had a series of adjoining rooms. It had been done for her safety. They had also installed cameras.
When the plane left for Tehran, Abigail sat with a couple of older women near the front of the plane and Adam sat with a couple of older men near the back. When they arrived at the Tehran Marriott, Abby checked in, changed clothes and went into the hotel bar.
They had been advised to cover their hair and wear long dresses. Abby just wore jeans, boots, a men's dress shirt and a green silk Hijab. Unknown to her, Ben had selected a series of different wardrobes for her to wear during the trip and according to situations he may have anticipated while they were there. He had a different priority and point of view than Abigail and Adam might have envisioned.
His goal was only the destruction of the Iranian nuclear manufacturing plants. He did not care who lived or died. This viewpoint had not been shared with his father or step-mother.
Her cell phone had been programmed to receive and send messages and then automatically be deleted within minutes after being opened. They did not want any messages accidentally seen by somebody else.
After they had all checked into their rooms, Abby had gone downstairs to meet several other women on the tour in the hotel bar and grille. They had pulled a couple of tables together for the ten women, or so, to gather and celebrate the end of a long and grueling plain flight and successful ordeal of passing through security at the Imam Khomeini International Airport in Tehran.
The men had gathered around a similar configuration at the other end of the restaurant, somewhat indignant about the women's' decision to segregate themselves from the men.
Abby had been given the phone number of Ahmad by Ben. She called him. "Ahmad; how are you. I don't know if you remember me. This is Abigail Hall. I was in some classes with you back in college. I had seen your name in the papers over the years. I am on a tour of Tehran with a group of people. We are going to see a number of museums and other places while we are here. I didn't want to call ahead. I didn't want to interrupt any of your plans. I just thought that if you were free, maybe we could get together at least once."
Ahmad was a little surprised to hear from her. It would have been very forward in this country for a woman to call a man. On the other hand, he had been in the U.S. long enough to understand this was a normal interaction between previous acquaintances.
"It's so nice to hear from you. It's been such a long time. Of course, I could be there in half an hour. I would be glad to show you around. Give me the address of the place you are staying. There are a number of places we could see while you are here."
It wasn't long before Ahmad was there. He had a new Mercedes, a driver and two body guards. They hugged. They decided that since it was not proper for a single woman to be out in public, they would catch up there at the hotel restaurant.
Ahmad had never seen Abby wearing a Hijab before. She had been a tall, gangly eighteen year old with large, wire-rimmed glasses, baggy clothes and a bashful smile. Of course that long frizzy red hair and those captivating green eyes were unavoidable. The green of her eyes seemed to change to match her mood and colors she wore. They seemed to get a deeper green to go with her jeans or lighter to match her dress. Her freckles made her look like a baby faun.
Now, all these years later, she was probably even more beautiful than she was as a teenager. Even with the Hijab covering her hair, Ahmad could still see that captivating figure. Those long legs under the flared, boot cut jeans that covered her high-heeled lizard skin boots told him she had gained no weight over the years. She was properly covered, but no amount of clothes could hide her beauty. Her complexion had changed from the freckled faun to a soft medium tan. The freckles were still there, but not nearly as prominent. The green Hijab brought out the emerald green of her eyes.
"You are more beautiful now than you were in college. I would have spotted you anywhere." He said. Like an Australian sheep dog, he cut her from the herd of women and guided her to a private table away from the tour group.
Abby tried to hide her awkward discomfort and use her most innocent charm. Ahmad was smitten now, even more than before. They spent several hours catching up with their years apart.
It was not hard for Abby to come up with her story. She just left out her husband and told him what she had done in her career. They were away from the crowd, and nobody saw him hold her hand. It may have been an innocent gesture in the U.S. but to Ben and Adam, who were still sitting with the other men, it had an ominous overtone. Adam was sad to see how things were going. Ben, on the other hand, was thrilled to see what was happening. It was a sign of success for his plot. It was a small step towards his goal of her getting in good with Ahmad.
The men could see the terror in her eyes as he leaned forward to kiss her. It may have been a casual contact in the U.S. but it was fairly scandalous in Tehran. Abby had a look of alarm on her face as she excused herself to go to the bathroom. It was an excuse to get advice from Ben and Adam. It was an excuse to get permission or denial for what Ahmad was suggesting.
"He wants to go up to my room with me." Abby almost stuttered to the two men gathered in the hall in front of the two bathrooms. Adam was stunned. He surely had to have known that this kind of situation might come up. He had psychologically blotted this possibility out of his mind. He must have thought Abby's brilliance with computers would magically put her in his house and magically create a situation where she could somehow upload viruses onto his computer.
Adam was an ignorant man. Ben, on the other hand knew it would have to come down to this. He knew Ahmad's weakness and had planned on this. "You are going to have to do whatever you can to gain his confidence." Ben said. He said it like he was talking about just two people sharing a drink. He said it knowing what they all knew was unavoidable if they were to do what they were there for.
"You're telling me to fuck him. Aren't you." Abby whispered bitterly as she looked both men in the eyes. She looked around to make sure nobody else could hear. She had a piercing stare at both men. She was making sure she did not misunderstand any part of the conversation. She was doing it to make sure she was hurting them as much as she could for what they were ordering her to do.
Adam could not look her in the eye. Ben stared her down. "You have to think about the overall picture. We are appealing to you to do what you need to do to gain his confidence. You need to do what you need to do to get to his computers."
The men continued into the bathroom. Abby's face was red as she went into the women's room. She took of her Hijab and combed her hair. She stared at herself in the mirror as she struggled with her thoughts. "Could she do this?" She seemed to be asking the figure staring at her from the mirror. She tried to run through the scenario in her mind; trying to get used to the image of an adulteress staring back at her. "I have no choice. This is not something I want to do." She told herself.
She took several deep breaths. She turned from the mirror wondering if she had the courage to play the role of her life. She walked back to the booth. "I think we could go back to my room for a short drink. I can show you some pictures on my computer from my Facebook page." She said as she forced a smile she did not feel.
She tried to ignore the discreet stares of the other women from her group as they passed through the dining room. She tried to ignore the stares of the Iranian workers they passed in the hall to the elevator. She tried to ignore the questioning looks of the other guests who noticed an American woman with an obvious Iranian man as they got on the elevator.
When they got to the room, Abby showed him around, like the bellman did when he opened the room. The door to the suite went through a small narthex next to a small kitchen. Next to that was a marble topped dining table. Next to that was a spacious living room with a nice view over the deck to the vast view of Tehran. She opened the door from the living room to the bedroom on one side. Along the back was a huge walk-in-shower. The vanity and toilet were in small compartments on either side of the walk into the shower. The large bedroom had a Jacuzzi in front of the sliding glass door to the outside balcony.
"Have a seat in the living room while I pour you a drink." Abby said as she walked back to the small kitchen. Ahmad watched her as she click-clacked her way to the refrigerator. She tried to cover her nervousness with small talk as she opened several of the small "airplane" type bottled drinks from the refrigerator. When she stood in front of him with the two drinks, he grabbed one of her hands. With a drink in each hand, she could not resist without spilling. He pulled her down onto his lap and pulled off her Hijab. It may have been a small innocent gesture except for what it implied.
They both knew he was undressing her. If she had been single, she never would have put up with it. It would have been too soon, but this was a different matter. She had to somehow get a tracking bug onto his computer, and she had to do anything she could to gain his confidence.
If he had met any other woman under any other circumstances and she had willingly given in to him this quickly, he would have been suspicious of her intentions. The way it was, he had been so infatuated with her before; he was blind to the possibility of any counterintelligence.
Her long red hair had been pulled back behind her head. Several emerald green butterfly clips held her hair out of her face. He pulled them off of her head. Her long frizzy hair cascaded down her back to her waist.
Ahmad took the drink from her hand and placed it on the coffee table next to his. He turned so that his side was resting against the back of the couch. Abby was still on his lap, but she was turned so she was facing him and also resting against the back of the couch. He made small talk neither remembered as he stroked her long red hair.
He leaned forward to kiss her. She did not resist, but she did not make any attempt to reciprocate. She allowed herself to be kissed. "I've got to do better than this." She told herself. She turned her head to accommodate him. When she felt his tongue tentatively searching for an opening, she did not resist.
It wasn't just a tongue. It was the tongue of a virtual stranger. It wasn't just a tongue. It was a sign of acquiescence. It was a signal of silent consent. Abby tried not to gag as the tongue entered. It wasn't so much the invasion of the tongue as it was her mind accepting all the implications.
It was hard enough accepting just a kiss from a stranger. Abby knew that she was being watched from the next room. She knew her husband and step son were watching. "How could she allow all this to happen? How would she live with herself knowing her husband was watching?" Her mind screamed at the indignation of what she was allowing herself to do.
"I've got to get through this." She told herself as she felt him begin to unbutton her shirt. Adam watched in horror at the scene on the flat screen monitor. She did not resist. The closest sign of cooperation he could see was that her head turned slowly from side to side as she allowed his tongue to search for hers. It was almost an instinctive reaction from years of marriage as she numbly reciprocated; tracing the tip of her tongue around his.
She closed her eyes to shut out everything that was happening; the image of her being undressed; the image of the two men in the next room in front of the flat screen. Abby almost laughed to herself at the idea that the cameras and television screens had been installed so they could "look out for her, and her protection." What help were they giving her, she thought bitterly.
Abby arched her back as he pulled her shirt off of her and out of her jeans. Her face flushed as he reached for the clasp in the middle of her back. She offered no resistance as the flimsy elastic garment burst away from her. Ahmad broke the kiss to look down at what he had uncovered.
Despite her humiliation and embarrassment, she like most women still have an unconscious curiosity about approval. She looked into his eyes and tried to cover up with her hands. He pulled her hands down to get a better look.
Abby had spent many hours that summer at the pool. The soft golden tan of her face and cheeks continued down her torso. The golden tan of her torso framed the alabaster white of her breasts which were accented by the longest, pinkest nipples he had ever seen. He had been enchanted with her face and figure, but these were like the boutonnieres on an Armani suit. This was like the hope diamond in a glass case against a dark grey display wall highlighted by soft halogen lights. He couldn't believe this was the same gangly, awkward teenager he was so interested in so many years before. At that time, he was only looking for a wife; a way to stay in the country. Now, sitting on his lap was the most magnificent creature he had seen. It wasn't just that she was beautiful; it was how she had changed like a caterpillar into a butterfly.
She looked and searched his eyes for approval. Once she spotted it, she returned to her own feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment. "I've got to get through this." She told herself again as she reached for the zipper of one boot. She knew she was being watched as she bent down and pulled the zipper open. Ahmad pulled the boot off. She pulled the cuff of her jeans up to expose the other boot. They both stared at the zipper as he pulled it down.
Adam watched in horror as he watched his wife willingly participate in her undressing. "How could she do this?" his mind screamed. Ben was elated with her progress. He was also secretly aroused by his step-mother. He knew she was attractive, but until now, he had no idea she was this beautiful.
Abby was looking Ahmad in the eye now as he pulled the last boot from her and tossed it on the floor. He picked her up as he stood. He walked and carried her into the bedroom.
By now, Abby had reached up around his neck with both arms; both for support and to continue their kiss. It was more instinctive for her. It was also a way to keep him from looking at her and a way for her to close her eyes and blot everything out.
By Iranian standards he was a big man; at least six feet tall. It was easy for a man of his physique to carry the much smaller woman into the bedroom. He stopped in front of the Jacuzzi and let her stand. He sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Abby crossed her arms in front of her as he undressed her. She looked nervously at the open sliding door to the balcony.
She had reluctantly accepted the concept of fucking this stranger; the idea that her husband and step son were watching from the next room, but struggled with the idea that others from adjoining high-rises might see her. "How ironic; that that should embarrass her." she thought to herself as she glanced nervously towards the open sliding glass doors as he unzipped her jeans.
Ahmad turned her around so she had her back to him as he lowered her panties and jeans. She looked again out of the balcony to see who might be watching as she stepped out of her clothes. He turned her back towards him to inspect his work. Abby nervously crossed her arms in front of her as she was being inspected. She struggled with her emotions as she forced her arms to go over his shoulders. She knew she had to do a better job of appearing to accept him.
Ahmad merely interpreted her reluctance as being shy or embarrassed rather than reluctant. He had had a hard on for this girl since she was a shy teenager. Now, after years apart, she was an even more alluring mature woman. Her golden tan legs and torso framed the alabaster white triangle around the manicured reddish brown "landing strip" above her vagina. Her pubic hair had been trimmed short. The sides had been shaved and shortened like a Mohican, daring to be scalped in battle. Below the top of her cleft, she was bare, exposing a little nub of flesh that seemed to be peeking inquisitively from between the folds.
Ahmad brushed it inquisitively, like a young child exploring the face of a newborn baby. He was fascinated with every part of her. He looked up at her and kissed her on one nipple.
Abby closed her eyes, unable to hide her reluctance. She had to get through this as best she could. Any open sign of reluctance might give her away or raise suspicion of why she was there. Reluctantly she spread her feet a few inches more to accept the finger she felt at her entrance. She raised both arms to wrap them around his head and keep her balance as she raised one leg and rest her foot on the top of the Jacuzzi beside him. It was both a sign of acceptance on her part and a way to keep her balance. She had to do something to show some willingness. It was a huge sign of acceptance on her part, knowing that Adam and Ben were in the next room watching as she felt his searching finger trying to enter.
She felt her cheeks redden and her pulse race as she struggled with all the thoughts running through her. She tried to shut out the picture in her mind of Adam and Ben leaning close to the screen. "If only Ahmad would turn off the lights, "she thought.
By now she felt several more fingers enter her. It did not feel like a person trying to seduce her any longer. It was painful if not humiliating. She pulled him closer; more out of trying to avoid a deeper penetration of his fingers and an attempt to shield what he was doing with his fingers from the cameras.
They both seemed to be locked in a silent struggle. Ahmad had changed from trying to seduce her to seeing how much she would accept. Abby on the other hand, was trying to mask her embarrassment and humiliation with a silent acceptance that her life depended on. Her breath came in shorter bursts. She began to perspire. Her desperation and embarrassment came across to all three men as building passion.
Her stomach shuddered like a woman in passion. The men in the other room watched in silent fascination as her head turned slowly from side to side and an: "Mmmm, ahhhh, ohhhh, came ever so faintly from her nose. It was her humiliation and embarrassment of being watched and naked that brought out the indignation that the men mistook for building passion.
By now, it became obvious to her that Ahmad was trying to pick her up to take her to the bed. She did not want to fuck him on camera if she could help it. Instead, she tried to guide him into the Jacuzzi. At least there, she could be covered by the water. The swirling currents from the jets might obscure their view from the cameras.
Reluctantly, Ahmad allowed her to guide him back into the Jacuzzi. Side by side in the tub, Abby kept one hand wrapped around his neck. In an attempt to prolong or circumvent the inevitable, she started talking to him; trying to start a conversation. She tried to get him into a conversation about his work as she reached over to his shaft. With one arm around his neck, one hand around the tip of his crown, and her lips against his ear, she thought she might be able to pass the time by whispering erotically into his ear and stroking him. "Maybe she could get him off without actually doing anything." She thought.
He was not an unusually big man as far as height or weight, but she was surprised that it was difficult to get her thumb and forefinger around him. "This is going to fucking hurt if I have to do this." Her mind screamed.
"Do you understand why the Muslim people insist on their women wearing veils?" he whispered to her. Abby looked down and shook her head almost imperceptibly. "No" she whispered.
"We feel that a woman's mouth is a sexual organ. It is a way to grant sex without getting the woman pregnant." Deep down, Abigail had heard this before. She had shut it out of her mind when she had taken this assignment on. "What was the purpose of this conversation?"
"What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered back.
"Well, you probably don't want me to get you pregnant, do you?" he whispered into her ear.
"The words hit her like a brick in the face. She had tried to keep him in the tub so she wouldn't be seen fucking him by her husband. Oral sex was an act she had avoided all her adult life
If her husband had watched her get gang raped by Ahmad and his body guards, perhaps in her mind, she was not in control. She could not avoid being held down and forced against her will. Oral sex however, went against everything within her. For her husband and step-son to watch her do something she had denied her husband was almost beyond anything her mind could accept.
Her face reddened as the idea soaked in. She tried to collect her thoughts as she fought for an alternative. She stroked the tip which was barely visible just below the surface of the water. She felt his hand on the back of her head. She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly.
She looked him in the eye for a split second. Her eye contact seemed to be trying to say: "Please; no; don't force me. I'll get there in my own time."
Abby tried to lean over, but her hair was getting in her face. She let go of Ahmad and placed her face in the water to get all of her hair wet. She rose up and used both hands to pull her long hair back over her back. Her mind was racing with emotional and tactical problems of what she had been asked to do.
Her hair was not going to stay behind her. She arched her back. Her long pink nipples almost pointed straight up as she reached behind her to wind her hair into a long wet rope. She pulled it over her right shoulder and tucked the length of it under her armpit...
Her lips were quivering as she reached down with her left hand and encircled the tip again. She had to hold her breath as she lowered her face under the water. With her eyes closed, her left hand guided the tip to her lips. Her mind was racing with different thoughts as she opened her mouth. She lowered herself enough to wrap her lips low enough to cover the crown. She held her position as long as she could; struggling to get her mind to accept what she was doing.
She struggled to find a place for her tongue as her mouth was stretched as wide as it would go. Every flicker or movement of her tongue made the pulsing shaft in her hand shudder and lengthen. She struggled to keep still; hoping it would not increase in length or girth any more.
In an almost instinctive reflex, her left hand began to squeeze his shaft. She knew she shouldn't if she wanted to avoid the reflexive shudders that increased his length even more. She could feel his pulse thundering along the sides of her cheeks.
The two men in the adjoining room watched silently with completely different emotions. Her husband watched in reluctant horror as his beautiful wife seemed to float to the surface; face down. He could see the muscles of her left shoulder flexing somewhat. He could tell that she probably had her mouth over the end of his penis. He could guess that she was using her hand on the part outside of her mouth.
Abby lay there in suspended animation, not bobbing her head. In fact, she had more or less "docked" herself by hanging onto the crown with her lips over it, and her hand gripping the shaft. She nibbled on it, like a baby that had gone to sleep while suckling on a milk bottle.
Ahmad could feel her hand around the base of him. Her warm soft lip wrapped around his tip was exhilarating. It wasn't going to get him off. It was the idea of this beautiful woman accepting him that was so intoxicating. He could feel her tongue. It was searching for a place to nestle comfortable inside her mouth in such cramped quarters.
Abby began swirling her tongue around it. She was struggling again with her emotions. She was getting away with not bobbing up and down on him. She was struggling to conceal what she was doing as much as she could from the two men in the other room. Rather than bobbing up and down on him, this was an alternative; suck him like a baby. Suck it and use her tongue. Her mind was making the ridiculous assumption that if her head wasn't moving, her husband would not know what she was doing.
Abby lay there in the warm water. She could feel Ahmad's massive phalynx throb and jump with each heartbeat. He was stroking her back with his left hand, comforting her as much as he could.
Finally, Abby flung her head up out of the water; gasping for air. "I need a break." She gasped as her lungs heaved. "Maybe fucking won't be so bad." She thought as she fought to regain her breath.
Abby was able to use her right arm and elbow to keep her head above water. She put the back of her head against his torso and brought the tip up close to her face. It was just below the surface. She wrapped her fingers around the base of the crown and slowly squeezed her fingers around the girth.
She slowly ran her fingers in a tight circle down the length of him as she tried to regain her breath.
"Where are we going tomorrow?" she asked. She was hoping she could get a conversation going with him to avoid sucking on him anymore. It was a huge dilemma she didn't know how to solve. If she quit, he would probably want to fuck. To do that, it would involve being more out of the water and subject to more scrutiny by her husband. "Which was worse; sucking or fucking?" her mind was screaming.
Abby was able to slowly move her hand up and down his shaft without churning up the water. She still thought she could conceal this in some small measure from her husband. They talked quietly about what they were going to see the next day. It was barely above a murmur. Neither of them cared much about the conversation. They were both focused more with what she was doing with her hand and the expectations with her lips. Ahmad was anticipating more of the same. Abby's mind was racing with how to avoid it; or whether to avoid it.
The men in the other room dialed up the sound. The murmur reflected off of the water and surrounding plaster walls. Adam was horrified to hear her talking so casually about tomorrow's agenda; what they might have to eat and details about the trip as she stroked him and occasionally dipped her head back down over the object in the water. They were two lovers; his beautiful wife, who he had shared a bed with so many years was now sucking off this stranger she had barely met. She was showing him more affection that he had experienced their whole marriage.
Ahmad picked her up, like a groom about to take his new bride across the threshold of their new home. Abby wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping that being against him might shield her from the cameras. "Now I have to fuck him." Her mind was screaming.
Instead, he grabbed a beach towel, wrapped it around her and walked through the open sliding glass doors to the balcony. He sat down on one of the aluminum lawn chairs and guided her down onto her knees in front of him. He used the towel to dry her off. He dried her hair and face. She should have finished him in the water she thought desperately.
Abigail kneeled obediently in front of him; between his knees. She was silent as he whispered how beautiful she was and how he had missed her all these years. When he had dried her off, he draped the large beach towel over her head, back and shoulders; effectively covering both of them from most curious onlookers from above or across the street. They may not have actually been able to see who she was or the shaft in front of her, but it was none-the-less obvious what was happening.
It was obvious to the two men in the next room what was going on. They could not see her wrap her fingers around his shaft. They could not see the tears welling in her eyes. They could not see her rub the tip back and forth along the width of her lips against her clenched teeth. They could not see her open her lips to kiss him softly on the tip. They could not actually see, but there was no doubt what was going on as her head bobbed downwards between his legs. The movements were not quick, but they could see the bump in the towel move slowly up and down. They could see from the way Ahmad's head went back over the back of the chair and turn back and forth what she was doing to him.
They could not see the actual eruption; but they could tell. They recognized the signs when his legs straightened, his hands went to the back of the bump in his lap and the shuddering in his body what had happened. After both bodies slumped, Ahmad took the towel and started toweling off the bump between his legs. They could not see her swallow. They could not see the two of them cleaning her face under the terrycloth tent.
When they were done, Ahmad stood and pulled her up with him. Abby was able to grab the sides of the towel and wrap it around her as she stood. She allowed him to kiss her once more. The two men could see their cheeks hollow as their tongues searched each other. Abby returned the erotic exchange she did not feel. She had been married long enough to make it convincing even if she didn't feel it. To Ahmad, he must have felt that this single, inexperienced woman must really be really enthralled with him to go so far with him so soon. He was totally taken in.
Once they were done, Ahmad began to dress. Abigail sat in front of her laptop to check her email. When she was done, she walked back to the bed to gather her clothes. She wanted to shower. She felt dirty. The shower did not go as planned. She tried to go in unobtrusively, but he soon joined her.
The unwanted affection continued. He stepped in behind her and took the soap. She knew what to expect. She put her hands up and on the walls as he took the soap bar in his left hand and rubbed it up and down across her breasts. With the other hand, he caressed her as he cleaned her. The warm water and soap was having an unwanted reaction on her.
She was powerless to control the tingling in her body as her nipples hardened. Ahmad was astounded at the length of them. He could feel her shudder. He couldn't hear it much, but he could feel a slight moan out of her. He took it for ecstasy. Abigail was horrified with her response. "What was she supposed to do?" her mind screamed, knowing she needed to be convincing, but horrified that the cameras could see them through the glass door. She was being torn between trying to think about something like gardening and knowing she needed to respond to him. She was willing to fuck. She was willing to be convincing; but she wanted it to be on her terms. She wanted to appear to respond, but she didn't want to actually feel it.
It hurt and humiliated her to feel her body responding. She shifted her weight to brace her body with her left elbow and forearm against the wall as Ahmad gently pulled her right hand from the wall and behind her. She knew without being told.