Sheik Omar Ch. 03

After being rescued by Arab tribesmen after her plane went down Lady Mary is brought to their oasis town.

In the morning Lady Mary woke with first light. At first wondering where she was. A sound she recognised as a call to prayer filling the air. She had heard them on the coast too. Had there several mosques joined each other in a contest here only one baritone voice sang the old words.

Then she got aware of the state of her body. Her nightgown had moved up along her body, now rumpled over one breast as she was laying on that side, leaving the other and all the rest of her towards her toes naked as she was born. The bare breast was cupped in the hand of the man who was sleeping with his face nuzzled against hers. A hard object pressed against her buttocks, a leg pressed between hers touching her in her most private place. The owner of all those affectionate bodyparts was still fast asleep. His breathing deep and slow.

Shock made Mary freeze and then try to wiggle free from him. This had never happened during their trip through the desert with his caravan. But then they had been fully clothed and not sleeping in a normal bed. Somehow in his sleep he must have reacted to her touch.

Her frantic wiggling however had him awake in a minute. She had turned her face towards him and now with his only a few inches away from hers she could see realisation dawn on it. Then however a wide smile surfaced. "Bonjour, good morning," he croaked. The hand on her breast tugging her towards him, his body moving to cover hers, bending down to kiss her.

"Amira, habibti"

She felt his hand move over her torso. Cupping now both her breasts and softly kneading them. Her nipples pebbled. His lips sucking on hers. She felt him spread her legs with his knees and the tip of his penis pressing against her channel.

-.-

Sheik Omar now fully woke up. He felt the urge to plunge inside that heavenly soft white flesh but then sharply came to his senses. She was a widow and untouchable for months according to the same laws he as a tribal leader had to uphold. He moved himself to her side but could not stop himself stroking her.

If he would not enter her he would not break those laws would he?

Her skin felt like satin. His fingers trailed to her belly moving slowly down towards her sex. Stroking her thighs. Kissing her neck, her nose, her mouth, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts and those pink pebbles. Her nipples were like fruits on her aureoles showing off her arousal.

His hand at last reached her furry mons. So different from the local custom to shave it all. His fingers trailed the soft lips and he could hear her breathing go laboured.

"Omar," she said. "Omar" followed by a stream of words in her own language and French words that made no sense to him.

He muttered soothing words against the pillar of her throat placing soft kisses on her skin. His beard tickling where he went. His hand moving more and more towards her secret garden.

He noticed how wet she was but also how scared and nervous. He did not know how to tell her not to be scared. That he only wanted to give her great pleasure. He would not make her a child yet. He would not even move inside her body. Just see her arch her back and cry out. But he had no idea how to tell her that in a strange language he only used to trade in.

His fingers now circled her clit. He felt her gasp. Her body convulsing against his hand. Her folds wet and warm. Oh how he wanted to invade her. But his fingers had to do. He moved his indexfinger into her channel. She was so tight. He felt her gasp. "Omar, Omar please." Fear mixed with pleasure. His finger moved inside her. Going deeper. Trying to make her relax so his second finger could join. In the meantime his thumb was massaging her clit.

He felt her moan and pressed his finger deeper in her softness.

"What the hell!!

In shock Omar realised that the woman in his bed was no woman yet but just a girl. He had felt her hymen. This was a virgin. His hand stilled. How could she be a virgin? He had seen her dead husband!

Then she reached down and pressed his hand forcefully against her folds. "Please Omar." Her other hand reaching up to touch his face. Her blue eyes like lakes. Such a sweet face.

He so wanted to see her happy and sated. Whatever was going on he would pleasure her and make her climax. His hands set to work again. His lips. He felt her arch her back and lift her hips. Her muscled cramping around his finger. Wetness sticky like honey. A hoarse cry and she felt back against his mattress. Her body limp, her eyelids fluttering close. He kissed her open lips.

-.-

Her body felt boneless. Her limbs too tired to move.

She felt shame washing over her. What had she done? She had given herself to a man who was not her husband. Had she done a mortal sin?

But her body felt amazing. The space between her legs pulsing. And was he not the man who had taken care for her? Had he not saved her and kept her safe? Did it matter that he was a savage from the desert? She just wanted to be in his arms again. To explore him as he had explored her. Oh my she must be a wanton fallen woman but she could not change it anymore.

She opened her eyes and saw him smiling at her. His arm propping up his head, laying on his side.

He said something and she guessed he was saying something about how sweet she was and how beautiful. She reached out her so tired hand and stroked his chest.

-.-

Omar got out of the bed and walked to his wash bowl. Taking a piece of fabric, wetting it and using it to wash her body. Drying it with another.

He realised he needed to know something.

"Charles... your husband... you...he ...never...make children?" How frustrating it was to have to communicate in a foreign language he did not master that well.

He saw her look confused. "Charles? Mon marie? Non Non. Frere."

What? That dead man was not her husband but her brother? That explained why she was a virgin. It seemed the guy had taken a younger sister on his journey.

Joy flooded his heart. This girl could be his. Now if he wanted to. But he wanted to win her over. Make her want him so much she would beg him. Not rush things. Make her love him like his dead wife had loved him.

He walked her to the roof terrace and left her there on a pillow admiring the view all over the oasistown and went for the maid to bring them breakfast. Afterwards he left her there drinking her tea and went back inside to do his prayers and then climb down to the ground floor to saddle his horse.

Just when he had got on his horse in the courtyard of the compound he heard her voice from the roof terrace.

"Omar where are you going?"

Her white-yellow hair tumbling down alongside her face she was looking down on him.

"Palmeria," he answered almost sure she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Can I come?"

He laughed. "Yes. Scarfe" motioning she should cover her hair.

In a few minutes she came running out of his door, tying the scarf around her hair. He lifted her up on the horse mimicking all their days sharing a camel. The gelding trotted along the small roads of his huge palm groove. Omar inspecting the irrigation canals in the groove, the trees and all the other plants growing in the shades created by the date palms. The henna. The vegetables.

After 15 minutes they reached a rocky hill. The horse carefully climbed the steep trail. All of a sudden they reached a lake with a waterfall. To Mary it was like a view from a dream. This must be the stream that fed the oasis. But maybe there were more wells.

Omar halted his horse and gestured swimming. They both climbed down and walked into the cold water. He lifted the hem of her dress, untying her headscarf, baring her white flesh. Then shedding his own robe in some quick motions. She lowered herself in the water. Submerging herself. Coming back for air. Her whole face laughing.

He embraced her and felt her breasts flatten against his stomach. His member stiffening against her belly. She reached up and tugged his headdress from his long hair. Her hands combing the strands. Then him challenging her who could swim the fastest to the other site of the pool. She won with two lengths. They laughed.

After they had dressed each other they trotted in a lazy tempo back to the village via another inspection route.

When they reached the main road they noticed a patrol of French soldiers was halted there. Sheik Omar pressed his horse towards the men.

"Bonjour Capitan Le Brun, Good day Captain Le Brun", he greated the leading officer. The elderly gentleman sporting a impressive moustache greeted the sheik warmly. He knew the sheik was no fan of the invaders of his country but Captain Le Brun was a man the Sheik seem to like. Indeed. Always respectful to the locals, speaking the language and a good warrior those were things Omar admired in a man.

The French officer looked at the woman sitting behind the sheik with her arms wrapped around him. Her eyes were very blue and a curl that had escaped her scarf was blonde. Who was she?

Omar saw the glance and said: "Captain in that Foreign legion of yours according to your tales men join from far countries. Might there be one amongst these legionnaires you have here with you today who can speak English? As this woman on my horse speaks this language and I need to talk to her in more detail then we can in French."

*****

To be continued (Probably under Romance).

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