I woke up in a strange bedroom, with Fatima’s green-veiled face only inches from mine. My cock was getting lightly stroked, and was having a grand time.
Fatima asked, “Do you wish me to let you sleep, Master, or may we spend adult time together?”
By then I’d remembered whose bedroom this was, and why Fatima was here. I glanced at the bedside clock. It said 7:16—a full hour before I had to jump in the shower.
I yawned, then replied, “Hm, sleep for an hour, or make love to a genie? Easy choice.”
Then I said, “Kneel on the bed. Let me see you.”
What I saw was, Fatima was wearing lingerie for a sultan.
Atop her head, she wore a brimless green cap that was decorated with much gold embroidery. I’ve already referred to her semitransparent green veil, which covered her lower face and throat. A green bra-like garment had been tied behind her back and also behind her neck. Below the bra-thing were gold coins, connected up and down by gold chainlinks. When Fatima moved, those coins clinked, and their motion drew the eye to Fatima’s tits. Covering the bra-thing was a tiny garment, of dark green cloth and gold embroidery, that extended only slightly forward from the armholes, and only with generosity could be called a jacket; its sole purpose was to cover up Fatima’s breasts a little more. On her arms were green semitransparent baggy half-sleeves; the half-sleeves went from just above her elbows to her wrists, and were cinched tight by green ribbons that were used as drawstrings.
Below Fatima’s waist, she wore green harem pants with bell-shaped legs. Again, green ribbons that were used as drawstrings tightened the waistband and the ankle cuffs. The baggy pants were transparent enough that Fatima’s pussy would have been visible, except that around Fatima’s hips hung a gold belt, down from which hung gold coin-chains that made a triangular veil that covered up the good stuff.
As I was getting up on my knees myself, I said to her, “You are so beautiful and so desirable, Fatima. You are a wish granted.”
She smiled at that.
I reached around her head and untied the strings that were keeping the green veil on her face. I laid the green veil aside, then I kissed her. The kiss was long and slow.
As I was pulling that embroidered cap off her head, I asked, “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”
“It’s been 812 solar years, five months, and thirteen days, Master.”
“Then I need to put a dent in that backlog,” I said.
It took me ten minutes to get her undressed. Mainly because I had no clue where the fasteners were for Middle Eastern clothing.
Fatima’s nipples were chocolate brown, and they were jutting out. Her tits were perfectly shaped, with no sag at all—and were they bigger than when I’d met her a week ago?
I got a happy surprise when I removed the gold-coin belt around Fatima’s hips. Through the semitransparent green cloth of her harem pants, I could see—
“Your pussy’s trimmed!”
Fatima smiled. “Yes, Master. From memory-reading you, I know that you find trimmed pussy hair more attractive. I want to look good for you.”
As soon as I got her harem pants off, I stroked the pubic hair under discussion, and the pink parts nearby. Fatima moaned.
By now she was nude and laying on her back, and I was laying next to her. Her hands were moving over every part of me that she could reach; she even caressed my neck. She said in a husky voice, “Your body is magnificent. I am getting wet, just touching you.”
I replied, “Then you’ll get even wetter when I touch you back.”
Which I did. Remember, Reader, that I had been a virgin less than a week earlier; and all my previous fucks had been ruttings, basically. This was the first time I really tried to do foreplay, and I wanted to do it right.
Soon I was at last understanding the term ‘erogenous zone.’ The breast skin around Fatima’s nipples was an erogenous zone. The skin on the side of her waist, another erogenous zone. The skin on the backs of her knees, still another. Her fingertips and palms were a huge erogenous zone.
At one point, I was stroking a leg. I said, “Thank you for shaving your legs for me.”
She giggled. “Armpits too. I didn’t shave them exactly, I made them be hairless. Not the same thing.”
“Either way, you did it for me. Thank you.” We kissed.
By the time I stopped caressing Fatima, she was squeezing a rocky bicep and muttering, “Oh Master, oh Master, Master, oh yes...”
That’s when I finally moved atop Fatima. Her look of lust changed to a look of confusion when I then moved down the bed—and down her body.
Seconds later, she gasped. Then she said, “Master, you don’t need to—It is I who should—”
I raised my head up from where it was (a tongue’s-length from Fatima’s clit) high enough that I could make eye contact with her. I said, “Hear me, O Fatima, bound djinni of the lamp: Your master commands you to lie back and enjoy this. And if you aren’t enjoying this, you are to inform me instantly, so that I fix my mistake. Obey me now.”
Fatima’s head plopped back onto the pillow, and I went back to what I was doing. In the next five minutes, I learned two things—
I ate her pussy for ten minutes. After about five minutes of licking, she started moaning and writhing continuously. Reader, it’s a real problem how to score that—do I count it as one five-minute orgasm, or five one-minute orgasms, or thirty ten-second orgasms?
But as I said, after ten minutes of eating her pussy, I stopped. I moved up the bed to where my face was next to hers, then I kissed her. “You may move now,” I said.
FOOM—instantly Fatima was halfway down the bed, sucking me hard.
When I was ready to party, I asked, “Do I need to get a condom?”
“No, Master,” Fatima said. ”Djinn women don’t get pregnant unless the chief of the tribe orders it.”
I looked at the clock. It told me that I had thirty-six minutes before I had to jump in the shower.
I made good use of that time. Discovering, in the process, why guys prefer not wearing a condom to fucking with a condom.
What was especially nice was that Fatima put a green-smoke ring around the base of my cock. I stayed hard and excited, and didn’t shoot my cream till I was ready to. This was so generous of Fatima, don’t you think?
And when my cock was sliding in and out of Fatima’s wet pussy? She seemed to enjoy it. Which wasn’t bad for a virgin-a-week-ago like me.
Twenty minutes after Fatima and I had climbed out of bed, I was staring at my cock’s reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Somehow I hadn’t noticed the fact, in all the fucking that I’d done before Fatima and I had showered together, but my cock was over two inches longer than it was yesterday. My cock was also thicker.
Fatima was stroking my cock, and smiling. Her reflection told me, “Your cock is now exactly the right length and thickness for Anna Kay’s pussy.”
Then Fatima’s reflection gave me a well-fucked smile. “Of course, since djinn are shapeshifters by nature, I’ve tweaked my pussy so that your cock is also the right length and thickness to give me the most pleasure. Anyway, I waited for the last day to hit you with this ‘little’ surprise, Master. Just like I waited till today for Harold’s surprises.”
I snapped my fingers. “Harold! I need to call him.”
Fatima frowned. “Why?”
“He doesn’t know that it’s all over now. By now he probably wakes up every morning with a sense of dread.”
Fatima let go of my cock, and said in a neutral voice, “You’re the master.”
I took one last glance at the bathroom mirror, before going to hunt up my cel phone. What the mirror was showing me was amazing.
I was 6’8” now, and had already whacked my head on the top doorframe when I’d walked into the bathroom. I also had to bend my knees now, in order to comb my hair; if I didn’t bend my knees, I couldn’t see the top of my head in the mirror.
I was also muscular. Jeez, I was barely this side of inhuman. Give me enough green makeup, and I could go to Natasha’s party as The Hulk instead of as Captain America. Okay, I’m exaggerating my muscle bulk—but not by much.
After I walked out of the bathroom (I smacked my head again), I was singing, “Oom-chukka, oom-chukka, oom-chukka mao-mao...” Another of Fatima’s last-day surprises was that I now had a bass voice.
I didn’t like Harold one bit, and I would never do him any favors, but I thought that letting him worry needlessly was cruel. Fatima’s attitude was the exact opposite: that Harold/Hank was getting off easy. So no surprise, when I asked Fatima for Harold’s cel-phone number, she didn’t instantly summon her scrying ball. Instead, for thirty seconds she was frowning, and she glared at me. I was two seconds away from calling Natasha, to ask her for Harold’s number, when Fatima finally summoned her scrying ball.
Seconds later, I punched-in Harold’s number. “Natasha?” a girl’s voice answered.
For a second, I was too surprised to speak. Then I said, “Is this Harold? This is Marvin.”
“Marvin? Your voice sounds different.” Then the girl-voice laughed bitterly. “But why should I be surprised, hm?”
“The reason I called, Harold: There are no more changes for us, you and me. Everything’s done.”
The girl-voice sighed. “So I’m stuck like this. At least I’m still male—technically. I was scared shitless I’d lose that too.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said, “Well, I’ll see you and Natasha at the party tonight.”
“Yeah, Natasha is picking me up in a few minutes. She’s got my whole day planned, she told me last night.”
“Okay, Harold. See you tonight.”
I was just about to hit the “OFF” button when I heard the girl-voice say, “Marvin?”
“Yes, Harold?”
“Will you tell me why this stuff has happened to us? Since you seem to know?”
I went silent for a long time, while I thought of what to say. Amazingly, Harold waited silently, not prompting me or pushing me. At last, I said—
“Harold, sometimes what goes around, does in fact come around.”
I was buttoning my shirt when I said to Fatima, “If you haven’t already dried your hair, you’ll want to do that. Then dress in something casual. I want you looking both stylish and sexy, but not too sexy.”
“I’m going somewhere with you, Master?”
“Yeah, breakfast with my parents. I’ve decided not to lie to them anymore.”
Fatima’s eyes went wide.