The Birthday of Ali

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A Russian woman, her beloved husband and... the second wife.
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Joe456
Joe456
60 Followers

Anna was the first wife of Ali, a serious 40-something Jordanian engineer. For a long time, she was the one.

Anna loved Ali. She had loved him from the first days she met him at the university in her country where he went to study. There were plenty of handsome, healthy, strong and even smart Slavic boys, but she was used to them. That tall, handsome, righteous, brown-skinned guy, something like a desert prince, attracted her attention.

And apart from his good looks, there came his good qualities. Serious, able to engage in what he did, study or other things, and loyal. Slave to his word, so to say. And stern. Able to get respect without bullying.

The Russian boys tried to weigh him, to put him to the test. No brawls, it was not a "zone", a jail, and not even a PTU, a technical institute for not so educated young men. It was a serious university, with excellent technical faculties which attracted students from abroad; especially from extra-European countries (it was cheaper than US "Alma Maters", after all).

But, men are men, males are males. They need to state who is the Alpha man and who is not, and not only in Russia. Ways can change, but the process is the same. First, don't show your fear. He did not show it, nor tried to scare others, so as not to create a local coalition against himself. And the boys let him alone, even when he started to walk around with her.

Even her family had nothing serious against their relations. Although they were all faithful orthodox Christians, they had friends of various religions (and even some stubborn atheists, heritage of Soviet times). They had been invited in many "Kurban Bairam" (Islamic celebration to commemorate the aborted sacrifice of Isaac on behalf of Abraham, concluded with the slaughter of a ram) by their friends and relatives down in Tatarstan, where another line of the family, converted to Islam before the end of USSR, lived in peace for decades. As her mother said, "Bog Odin": God is one.

And besides religion, there was nothing a good parent could find weird in Ali. Especially when he completed his study's course there with a very good graduation, and asked Anna to marry him and follow him in his country.

To ease the last worries, Ali, a Muslim from a country that allowed polygamy, had declared that Anna would be his one and only wife. And when he declared it, he really thought it.

When he made this declaration, Anna had already wanted to belong to him body and soul. Mostly body, of course.

She had invited him at home, without telling him that her parents were out of town, And then, alone in the house with him, she had hugged him and kissed him on his mouth. Ali had tried to resist her beauty, her desire and his own nature, but he failed. He possessed her, as tenderly as he could, entering into her as in a mosque. Her body did not deserve to be simply overwhelmed and rammed. It was a wonderful field to plow, slowly, strongly and attentively. And so he did.

And so it happened, many times.

She had lost her maidenhead years before she knew him, and he knew that: she told him when their mutual feelings became serious and before they went to bed together. She wanted him to know everything about herself, before to engage with her. Ali had appreciated her honesty, and tolerated the rest. Such a woman, even if Christian and no longer a virgin, was a natural born wife; a passport to happiness. A gift from Allah...

To be fair and honest, Ali had to admit that those intimate meetings helped him to tolerate the weak points of Anna. Nothing acrobatic, Anna had never read "Kama Sutra", but she was warm (not "hot": warm), cosy, reassuring, and at the same time, passionate and yearning to learn. And Ali could be a good teacher.

The Russian guys always treated Anna with respect, nobody had molested or tried to rape her (in that case, her father had given her a simple recipe: "knee in the balls and knuckles in the eyes, and run"...), But all her past bedfellows, to talk like a sport commentator, made stakes more on "agonsism" than on "fundamentals". They were strong, and Anna appreciated it, but even a bit "rough". Not so much foreplay, focused on themselves. Venial sins, of course. Too bad, with their strength and a bit more attention to her... they would have been real sex gods...

But Ali was better. He let her feel his male strength, as in the air, but was tender. He kissed her twice or thrice the times the Russian boys did, everywhere, even where she felt embarrassed to be kissed, and where the Russian boys never did, and likely never would have ("not a manly thing!").

And the effect was indescribable for her.

She was very surprised to know that he learned his "fundamentals" not from some western book or kinky journal, but on the Koran itself. "Don't assail your women like rams...". Then he refined his theoretical knowledge with another Islamic book: "The perfumed garden", of sheik Al Nafzawi. More or less, the Islamic Kama Sutra (and so, very often hated by many extreme fundamentalist Muslims). A gift from an uncle, wise and a bon vivant. The most useful gift he ever had in his life - before Anna.

And things did not change when they came to Jordan. His big family gave them friendly greetings. Jordan was quite a tolerant state, being an Islamic monarchy. Women could work; hijab (the veil) was very appreciated, but never compulsory (out of mosques, of course).

Ali joined his father in his engineering office for a while, for practice, then his father retired. In the first years, Anna helped him, as a secretary and even with some projects, but then, when the children came, she decided to become mostly a mother and a housewife.

Even then, Anna always loved when she had the chance to visit her husband on some building ground. She liked to see him giving order and instruction to all those who asked for them, without a doubt, like a real officer on the front. And to think that that strong and self-assured man, who gave orders to other strong men, and to whom all the other strong men obeyed instantly, was HER own man.

He never gave "orders" to her. He did not ever ask her to change her religion. A Christian woman can marry a Muslim man without problems (while the opposite could even cause BIG problems, even in a moderate State as Jordan), and Ali was too educated, and satisfied of her as a wife, to argue with her on religious matters. It was she, after a while, that began to think that it was proper, for her and her new family, that she uttered the "shahada" and became a good Muslim wife.

This did not change anything in her relation with Ali, who remained loving and respectful as before, neither more, nor less. But it was a wonderful gift for his mother.

The old but very healthy and good-looking Arab lady has greeted her with courtesy, to please Ali, her only male son, and she had answered with a great respect, and two healthy blonde grandchildren that the old lady simply adored. She got used to having them with her as much as possible, to give Anna and Ali more time for pamper each other (and eventually, to give her more nice grandchildren...). But when Anna took that decision freely, out of love for her husband, that "foreign woman" became precious for her as her own eyes.

She maintained a special devotion for "Mariam", as the Muslim call "the mother of the prophet Issa" (Jesus), tributing to her a peculiar respect, and more or less the same special characteristics that Orthodox (and Catholics) acknowledge to the "Mother of God" (that is, the same person). But for the rest, she showed respect for the rules of her new faith, without the fanaticism of the neophytes (Ali would had not loved it), but seriously and thoroughly: hijab, Ramadan, and all the rest.

It was not so strange that Ali never thought to have more than one wife. As a matter of fact, most Muslims never thought to have the four wives allowed by Koran. Ali had decided that, for him, even two wives were too much.

Economically, maybe, he could allow himself that. But he did not think he could be "fair" with two women, let alone with three, or four. And the Koran allowed the four women only to those who could be "fair" with each of them. Too hard for a single man!

Yes, the old men said that four wives were better. Four was the perfect number. Each wife found a friend among the others. A self-sustaining structure in the best case, but in the worst case? What would happen if no wife found a friend, and everyone hated all the others? Hell is less dangerous than a scorned woman. What about four scorned women? Oh, Allah, save all of us...

The real truth was: Anna was enough for him. "Enough" in the best meaning of the word. She gave him all he needed. Love, an intelligent person to talk with, a cosy house, well educated sons and, of course, sex.

She gave back to him all the pleasure he gave her, and even a bit more, maybe. Sexual pleasure, in Islamic culture, is not bad: it's a way God has chosen to give humans a first taste of Heaven. And Ali was sure to have a quite detailed first idea of it. Thanks to Anna.

He liked to lie in the bed, pretending to be tired by the work, and see her, when she wanted sex, rubbing her body over him, and then, lying and inviting him, or even better, sitting astride over him, for him to see her: beautiful, impaled on his dick and happy of it, and naked. Most of all, naked. Her healthy body, her corn-blonde hair, her swollen breasts, her sincere, beautiful blue-green eyes. Her way of giving herself to him, looking in his eyes, knowing her sweet, strong female power over him, but never trying to abuse it. Even because a man like him would have never allowed a woman to do it. "Listen to your wife, but decide with your head", the old Arabian saying went. And Ali was fully able to follow that rule.

She too liked that play. Sometimes Ali was really tired, and then there were just kisses and pampers before to say each other Good night. But when the sex came, she never just opened her legs and let him do. She created for him a real garden of earthly delights. A "Russian paradise", as her beloved Isaac Babel wrote. She knew and loved his body, inch by inch, and now she was not embarrassed to accept his kisses, and even less to give him tit for tat. Wherever...

Looking at her in the street, dressed as a good and modest Muslim woman, with her well chosen hijabs and her light coloured, simple long fabric woman's overcoat, nobody could even imagine what a female she could be for her man. And thank Allah, HE was her man...

His mother still smiled remembering how he described her by phone, when he informed the family of his love for her. "She is wise as Kadija, and beautiful as a Houri". Kadija was the first wife of the prophet Mohamed, be always blessed his name, a great woman who helped his husband to escape from the life of a poor orphan and was his first follower. And the Houri...

"How is her hair?" she had asked her besotted son.

"She is blonde, she is Russian", he answered. It was obvious.

"The Houri have black eyes and black hair", she recalled, smiling.

"Those are technicalities, mother", he answered. He already talked like a real engineer...

The years, the sons, the normal daily problems, even the unavoidable discussions any family of any religion has to meet every now and then, had not changed the situation between them. Anna knew how to stand for her points, even to contradict Ali about them, without questioning his authority in the family or making him doubt of her feelings for him. She had read the works of Islamic women who treated the matters of women's right on an Islamic basis, so she knows how far she could go. And went that far, with sensitivity and love for her man, but firmly. To all that, Anna added the headstrongness of Russian women, and their ability to get respect from their husband, when they did not drink, and sometimes, even when they drank too.

And Ali knew about all that before he married her. His father-in-law had warned him about it, in their man-to-man discussions. No delusions: Russian women are horses. If you know how to ride them, they will carry you werever you want. But don't try to push too hard or to put them down. They will never do ALL you want, unless it is what THEY want too... Ali knew how to ride her, and she let him do it, but just to some extent. And woe to who tries to go beyond that extent, his in-law had told him. You could end up with your butt on the ground, or kicked hard. Very, very hard...

Ali never trespassed those limits, maybe he did not ever reach close to them. He was not the "typical" islamic fundamentalist "macho". And on the other hand, "insh'Allah", Russia was a country where the American version of feminism had had no success. Anna did not consider herself at war with male gender. Her skill of getting respect was something she had in her DNA, without losing time theorizing about it. She knew that if she got married (very likely, since she was alergic to loneliness), she would have had to rule in the house, but without too many contrasts which were usefull to nobody. And talking with the mother of Ali, she had learnt a useful Arab saying. Make your husband your master, if you want him to be your servant. And Allah will bless you.

Or, as Anna had got that, make him FEEL your master... Being or not being it, really, just another deal...

For all these reasons, she and Ali lived together well, and Ali kept thanking Allah to have met her and got her to leave her country and to live with him. It was not because he was sick and tired of her, or because he wanted something more, that Aisha came in her lives.

She just came.

Aisha came to Amman, the Jordan capital, from the provinces, looking for help from a distant relative. The relative was Ali (not exactly a "relative": more a matter of "clan" than of "family"), and he gave her all the help he could, without subjecting her to his lust, not a single time. But he had his lust, and Aisha, even without wishing it, even wearing hijab and all the rest, had all it took to arouse the males' lust. Before committing something unforgivable, Ali decided to talk about it to Anna.

One evening they made love and Anna gave her best, kissed him wherever, without making exception for his sex, all the way round, dedicating many attentions to it. She hosted it in her mouth, caressed it with her tongue and her lips, slowly, with affection. It was a part of her man, her husband, her love, her lord, nothing more, but nothing less... But he did not want to possess her in that wrong hole. He took her long hair, as taking a mare by the reins, and she obeyed to him, like a well tamed mare.

She left his dick, put herself on all four, and let her prince of the desert ride her, strongly and calmly, from behind, until she felt his warm, strong, abundant semen flood in her body, giving her the last push for orgasm. "Insh' Allah", she would have had more sons or daughters from her man, for him and for her. "Insh'Allah", nothing would have happened... She had done what she could. And she had enjoyed doing it, as always.

He allowed her to taste his semen on his dick, now that the bulk of it had gone where it had to go. His semen, of course, was mixed with her own moisture, but this was not a problem for her. He loved that moisture, its taste, its smell. The smell of his wife. His woman, his love, his mare, his field to take care of...The best wife he could find... And he was thinking about another woman. How imperfect we are...

"Anna..." he said, when she lay at his side, after a kiss to his chest. She had his semen and her own moisture on her tongue, it was not the time for a kiss in the mouth...

"Yes?"

Silence.

"I have to tell you something."

"Regarding what?"

"Regarding Aisha..."

He could still tell her, with clear conscience, to be faithful to their pledge in the flesh, if not in the thoughts. And Anna knew that, and had no doubt of him. But she was conscious that her man was walking upon a tight rope. She had met Aisha, and she knew that she was an honest girl. And a beautiful girl too. Not more beautiful than her. Just...Different. The typical middle-eastern beautiful girl. Black hair and black eyes, just like a Huri, strong glances, proud attitude. And she was younger than her. It was nobody's fault. Aisha was miles away from the idea to steal her husband, but she was in the blood of Ali, under the skin of Ali already. And maybe she too loved Ali, or at least desired him. It would have been normal: Ali was a good man, a good husband, a nice and strong male. And he desired her, it was clear. Even if he fought against this desire with his strong character that had always helped him. To go to Russia, to be respected from the local guys, to graduate with top class votes, to conquer her hearth, her brains and, consequently, her body and her sex... But maybe not this time.

"Marry her." she said.

Ali looked at her, as surprised as never in his life. Anna was talking seriously. It was not the sarcasm of a woman wounded in her pride and her feelings. She was tranquil.

"Marry her?" he muttered.

"Yes. What else could you do? Go to bed with her, as with a "sharmota"? She doesn't deserve it. I could even pretend that nothing is happening, hoping that you get tired of her. But it would be unfair. The other way is fair, and better. You marry her, you stay with me, and she does not lose her reputation. And I don't have to sit on the riverbank, waiting for the corpse of the enemy. I don't want to see her corpse."

"But I promised that you would have been the one..."

"I free you from this promise. Now and forever."

Ali was perfectly conscious that Anna's choice was a great, huge, gigantic proof of love for him. So gigantic that he was not sure he deserved it. To be worthy of it.

"No need for that," he said, without looking at her. "Just say a word, and I send her back to her parents. I did what I could for her, now she will have less problems. She does not need me anymore."

Anna smiled, looking at her strong man as at a child. He was talking seriously too, he was sure to tell the truth. He thought himself as a saint, a warrior, capable of keeping at bay his male lust, his male nature, his "fitna", for the whole life. Because he loved her. But he was just a man. And he loved Aisha too. Not all men can love two women, but he was not 'all men'. He was HER man, her RARE man. No, it was not just "fitna", between him and Aisha.

"Marry her," she insisted. "I am agreeable."

They discussed the matter with Ali's mother, and she agreed with Anna: the marriage was the best solution for all of them, Aisha and even the "clan", who would be reinforced by the new ties. In the Jordanian society, the "clans", something like confederations of families, have quite an importance, even if not as in other middle-Eastern, Caucasian, central Asian and north African countries.

Ali was still worried. He was afraid of getting caught in a crossfire of female jealousies, hate, incompatible characters and something alike. He would have been sorry to do that silly, rude but sometimes necessary thing: to show who is in command, who "calls the tune". Of course it was he, the man. But Aisha was wise enough to understand that Anna remained the first, especially in the heart of Ali. And Anna was wise enough for not too push too hard on it.

The marriage was greatly celebrated by the "clan". A real, wonderful Arab feast. The members of the clan already knew and respected Anna: a good wife, a good mother, a new, real "believer". Now they had a new reason to respect her: she, a Christian woman from birth and culture. a woman from the western world, had accepted sharing her man with another woman, out of love for her man. Not in some shadowy way, but following the law of Allah. She had even proposed to her man that choice, renouncing his pledge to hold her as his one and only wife. She had become almost a saint for the clan, a reason of pride. And Ali, maybe, the most envied male of all...

Joe456
Joe456
60 Followers
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