Aaeedah

The first time I met Aaeedah was in mosque, in prayer hall, which is decorated by Islamic Arabic calligraphy and Quranic verses on the walls to assist worshippers in focusing on the beauty of Islam and its holiest book, the Quran, as well as for decoration. She was a pretty girl with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a dazzling smile.

I had known her for years, and we had grown up together in mosque, in prayer hall, her family sitting a few pillars back from mine. She had a large family of seven – typical for a lot of Muslims – and even though she was recently eighteen, she was still living with her parents to help raise the younger children, who ranged from her eighteen year old sister down to the newborn twins.

I always felt guilty about the thoughts that went through my head during the worship, looking back every few minutes at her studiously listening to every word the sheikh was saying while I imagined what she looked like naked. I had a good imagination too, because her dresses had always been long for even the most conservative of Muslim girls. The decorated gilded dome, the beautiful adorned wooden minbar which the sheikh is sitting on its seat, and the beautiful embellished mihrab all of them failed to distract my attention from my goddess Aaeedah.

But apparently her parents had decided since she turned eighteen to allow her to wear what she wanted. Having known her for years, it was quite a shock to turn around mid-service the week after her eighteenth birthday only to see a pair of panties peeking from beneath a very short yellow skirt.

It was Aaeedah, and she was wearing make-up too – a first for her. Like her clothing, it must have only been permitted since her birthday. Her thin brows were furrowed in concentration and her luscious red lips pursed as she followed along with the sheikh's reading. Suddenly, without warning, her eyes darted over and caught me staring up her skirt. I thought quickly and boldly met her gaze before slowly running my eyes down her body. Her parents, seated to her left, were intent on the Quran in their laps and paid no attention.

Instead of closing her legs in horror, I saw a flicker of a smile on her face and a little pink tongue slowly lick her upper lip. Then, to my astonishment, her legs slowly parted. It was barely a movement, just a slight adjustment to anyone else, but it opened up a whole new world to my gaze. I could see the silky smoothness up her upper thighs, her satin pink panties, and, unless it was my imagination, a small wet spot soaking through. I felt a lump in my throat and turned back to the sheikh's melodic droning, my heart pounding in my chest. A moment later I heard a soft cough.

Turning back, I saw that her hand had moved from the top of her Quran to her legs and she was slowly running her fingers along her thigh, her brilliant blue eyes glued to my face. Casting a furtive glance over at her parents, she gently lifted her heavy quran up from her lap and quickly slid her other hand beneath it, setting the Quran back down. This way, its heavy pages rested on both legs, but the front was tilted up giving me a look at something I never thought to see in mosque. Her fingers went straight to her panties, rubbing the smooth fabric with a slow back and forth motion.

I saw her arch her back slightly, biting her lip and closing her eyes. I couldn't believe it. This young beauty was masturbating in mosque just for me! My cock was straining in my pants, but I dare not move, being that I was seated in the front row. The aching intensified as I saw her gently pull the panties aside, revealing two of the most perfect pussy lips I have ever seen, smooth and pink and now definitely glittering with moisture. She gently inserted one finger, first up to the knuckle, then all the way, and I heard a sharp intake of breath which she covered with another soft cough. Her mother glanced over absently, but saw nothing and returned to her Quran.

Aaeedah's eyes met mine and she nodded her head slightly in the direction of the back. I couldn't believe it: she was asking me to follow! I nodded once and turned back to the front, my breathing quickening, my heart now like a jack hammer in my chest. I heard her slowly rise and whisper something to her mother, before standing up barefeeted - as all of us in mosques - from the ground and getting out of the pool. I waited thirty seconds before doing the same, trying to do everything as slowly as possible, knowing someone would stop me at any second.

As I walked down the pool , I focused straight ahead, terrified of meeting anyone's eyes. I reached the back door of the pool (al-sahn) and stepped out into the hall which separate the worshipping part of mosque and its educational part and its bathrooms, exhaling sharply as I did so and realizing I had been holding my breath. I looked around for a moment before I saw her at the other end, glancing over her shoulder and disappearing around a corner, her dark hair floating about her head like a ghostly trail.

I hurried after her, adjusting my cock in the tight confines of my pants, wishing I could pull it out right there. But I was surrounded by closed doors and the sounds of children in nurseries and Islamic school classes that told me I was not yet in the clear. I reached the end of the hall and found her waiting for me around the corner in front of an large, open room. She grabbed me by the shirt ad pulled me inside, shutting the heavy door behind me and locking it.

Without a word, our lips met, all the passion from her little show exploding in each others mouths. Our hands were all over one another, tearing of ties and shirts and blouses. Her tongue was buried in my mouth, probing wildly as if battling mine for dominance. My hands found their way beneath her skirt, gripping her luscious ass cheeks, squeezing and caressing them before I shoved them beneath her panties to pull her cheeks apart, gently rubbing her asshole while she ground her hips against the hardness in my pants. But I knew we had little time.

As I undid her bra strap, her shaking hands were fumbling with my belt and zipper. Her beautiful tits spilled out, creamy and soft, tiny pink nipples swollen erect with excitement. I devoured them hungrily as her hands finally finished their work with my pants and she dove one beneath my boxers, gripping my cock with inexperienced but eager hands and began stroking it. I could finally handle it no longer, shoving my pants and boxers down around my ankles and pushing her to the ground.

She willingly obliged, turning over to kneel on all fours and still wearing her skirt, her perfect little ass turned up in eager anticipation. I dropped to my knees, yanking her panties down to expose her beautiful asshole and pussy looking up at me, wet and pink, cunt dripping with readiness.

My cock was throbbing hungrily, my purple head engorged with blood looking as if it was about to explode. Without hesitation I plunged it in, all seven inches sliding through her sopping wet twat all the way up to my balls. She cried out, her back arching and head thrown back.

"Oh fuck!" she yelled.

"Shut the fuck up!" was my whispered response. "You're gonna get us caught."

She obediently lowered her head to the floor, covering her hand with her mouth to muffle her moans as I began pumping in and out of her, slowly at first, but more and more rapidly. Her cunt was so tight, I knew she had to be a virgin, but the lack of blood told me that my cock was not the first object shoved in her perfect little pussy.

The slap slap of my balls against her was accompanied only by an ecstatic moan with each thrust. I pulled her ass cheeks apart exposing her brown little asshole before letting some spit drip down into it, enjoying the way it pooled around the rosebud. Licking my middle finger, I slowly pushed it inside of her. Her groans turned to muffled screams, and I felt her cunt tighten around my cock as she quickened the pace, slamming her ass back against me as if desperate to drive me deeper and deeper into her.

Knowing I was close, I removed my hands and gripped both hips, increasing the tempo until her punctuated moans became one long animalistic cry. Suddenly, I pulled myself out of her and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her around to face me. Her cheeks were flushed and her lipstick smeared from covering her mouth, and at that moment, all I wanted was to blow my load all over her face. I began pumping my cock fiercely, but she looked confused.

"Why did you stop?" she begged. "Don't stop!"

"I wanna cum on your face. In your mouth and on your tits!"

Her eyes lit up. Her inexperience was rapidly turning into unbridled lust.

"Oh yea, cum all over me!" she begged. "Cum on my tits and mouth! Yea cum in my mouth! I wanna swallow you!"

These words coming from a girl I had seen grow up in mosque my whole life were all the encouragement I need. With a gasp, I jerked and a steady stream of jizz exploded from my cock, splattering against her face, tits, and even inside her mouth. She quickly put her mouth over my cock and began to suck me down, swallowing as quickly as her mouth filled up. When I was finished, I fell back to the ground, breathing heavily. She began wiping the cum off her face and tits, and licking it off her fingers with relish.

"Oh my God," she whispered, "It's so good!"

I had risen by this time and was pulling my pants back up. She sat there for a moment longer, inspecting herself to ensure no jizz was being wasted before following suit. A few minutes of silent dressing, and we were ready to leave.

She opened the door and started to walk out before stopping suddenly and peeking her head back in.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Meal Time

Hello. My name is Cathy and I work as an accountant in Lansbury Holdings in Euston Road. I’m forty-three years old, divorced and have no children. I like reading, walking and listening to classical music and can often be found on the South Bank in the Festival or Elizabeth Hall. In the evenings, that is. During my lunch hour I frequent a totally different establishment. In the Caledonian Road, not far from King’s Cross Station there is an establishment with a small sign above the door: CINE CLUB. It is indeed a cine club, but lovers of Bergman and Bunuel would be disappointed. I discovered it through an article in the Guardian about prostitution in the King’s Cross area in which a pornographic cinema was mentioned as a place where hookers plied their wares. I first went there one evening, half-hoping to be picked up – but found no one even resembling a prostitute either outside or inside the cinema.

What I did find initially didn’t surprise me – after all I knew it was a pornographic cinema and I’d been to pornographic cinemas before, in the days when Soho was full of them. I’d masturbated secretly into my trousers and assumed the others around me were doing the same. Here, the films were on video and the quality left a lot to be desired, but on my first visit a lesbian masturbation scene got me aroused and I started surreptiously stroking my prick through my pocketless trousers. I had manoeuvered it upwards so that it was flat against my stomach, so that my vest would soak up the sperm when I came. Suddenly, for some reason I looked down and had the shock of my life.

The man next to me had taken out his prick and was openly rubbing it. It was only half-erect, but it was oozing pre-cum, which he periodically wiped off with an increasingly damp tissue. I’d never seen a grown man masturbating in the flesh before, and I found that it excited me more than the film. It wasn’t long before I came, squirting successive streams of sperm up my stomach and into my vest. My neighbour was only too aware of what was happening – he glanced towards me smiling and waved his prick at me. I realise now that he wanted me to masturbate him, but at the time the thought didn’t cross my mind. I got up to go to the loo in order to clean myself up a bit – the sperm soaked vest was cooling down and felt a bit uncomfortable. When I came out, the wanker had moved to the front row and was masturbating vigorously, his prick now fully erect. I returned to my place and continued to watch the video. Interminable fucking. OK, the black giant had a fantastic prick – and when he jerked off all over the blonde’s face I started to get excited again. Should I take my prick out? No – the man in the front row was the only one, as far as I could se. Maybe he was some sort of maniac. I mean, people just didn’t wank in public, did they?

So my hand went into my pocket and I stroked my erection gently for about half-an-hour before I reached my second orgasm. After that, the film ceased to interest me and I left. I’d come half-hoping for a fuck, and I left after two orgasms and with my thirty quid still safely in my pocket.

I couldn’t get the sight of that erect prick being openly stroked in the front row out of my mind. It fascinated me. It aroused me. I sat in front of the mirror and pretended I was in the cinema. I rubbed my erection through my trousers and then took out my prick, watching myself in the mirror as I gently stroked it. I wiped off the precum with my handkerchief – and eventually I came – also into my handerchief. Would I ever have the courage to do the same actually in the cinema? Probably not, but I had to go to the cinema again, come what may. The sooner the better – and the next opportunity was my lunch hour the following day. It seemed I was not the only businessman with the same idea. The general profile of the audience was considerably more respectable than the previous evening. Here were men who had to go home to their family in the evening, taking advantage of their lunch hour to revel in a bit of porn.

 There weren’t any free seats in the front few rows, so I found myself in the third from back. To start with I got the impression that the men were just watching the film – there was no sign of any furtive masturbation – and certainly no open wanking. I didn’t even dare put my hand in my pocket, even though I had a painful hardon compressed into my Y-fronts. After a while, the pain became unbearable and, on the pretence of looking for my handkerchief, I succeeded in freeing my prick and sending it vertically towards my stomach. The man next to me was aware that something was happening in my trousers and threw me a glance. I looked down at my crutch – the erection was obvious – both to me and to my neighbour. It became impossible to totally ignore what was happening, and I placed a hand surreptitiously on my trousers.

The man next to me did the same. I rubbed my hand up and down. So did he. Suddenly he transferred his hand from his own crutch to mine. I shuddered, and immediately removed it. Why? Because I was damned if I was going to stoop to being masturbated by a total stranger. Why? Because he was nothing to me. I got up and made my way to the aisle, determined to leave the cinema. But my erection refused to let me. As I reached the stairs, I realized that I had to masturbate to orgasm before I left. There was a spare seat in the middle of the back row, so I made for it. As I pushed past the three men between the aisle and the spare seat, I realized that two of them were openly masturbating.

As I sat down, I saw that the two on my right were doing the same. So the back row was the place to be!. I sat and watched the film for a few minutes. A rather plump redhead was masturbating vigorously, surrounded by five equally plump men who were doing the same. I joined them. I whipped out my prick and gently carressed it. Five masturbating men on the screen, five more in the back row. Incredible. The man two seats to my right was making a meal of it. He had thrust his prick in the air and was rubbing it furiously, looking left and right as he did so. The others were more subtle. The man on my left had a well-shaped prick, about seven inches at least, and was making the most of it. He glanced down at mine – equally well-shaped but slightly smaller. I suddenly realized that I actually wanted to feel his prick. But how was I to go about it? I didn’t have to worry. After a few minutes, his left hand edged its way towards my erection and gently grasped it. Nobody except me had touched my prick since Grammar School! God, he certainly knew what a prick wanted! The problem was, I was obviously going to come immediately.

I grabbed his prick and rubbed it vigorously, as if to bring him to the same stage of excitement. He obviously liked this as he began to thrust his hips up and down. Concentrating more on his prick helped to draw my attention away from my own and I found myself able to control my orgasm. I remained on the brink while wanking my neighbour like mad. Suddenly, he shuddered and I felt a stream of sperm shoot up in the air, down my hand and all over his trousers. A fraction of a second later I did the same. God, what a mess! It had a good effect on the man on my left, who ejaculated a matter of seconds after me.

I’d ejaculated in front of others! Total strangers. There would be no stopping me now. I hastily shoved my prick into my trousers and dived for the loo to clean up the mess. The other two men were doing the same, but in situ. In the loo someone had hung up a condom full of sperm. Not a bad idea, coming into a condom. Less mess. I picked it up,imagining the man ejaculating into it while rubbing his prick through his trousers. Although I’d just come, I found myself getting excited again. There was still about twenty minutes of my lunch hour to go, so I decided to return to my seat. Too late - someone else had retired to the back row for a wank. The only available seat was in the middle of the fifth row.

Oh, well – I would just enjoy the film and wank through my trousers. On the screen a couple of lesbians were hard at it. Wanking lesbians turned me on more than anything. I adjusted my erection and started stroking myself. The man on my right seemed a bit taken aback, but the young man on my left started openly stroking his obvious erection. I made a mental note to wear my trousers with holes in the pockets the next lunch hour I spent here. Then I could stroke my prick relatively surreptitiously. It wasn’t the same through my trousers. Oh, to hell with it! I unzipped my trousers and took hold of my prick without actually revealing it. I had underestimated the man on my right. As soon as he saw what I was doing, his left hand wandered over towards my open flies, while unzipping his own trousers with his right. I released my now full-size prick and relaxed as the man’s hand tightened gently around it. His prick was pretty flaccid, but I took hold of it just the same. He started rubbing mine harder and faster, but his own remained disappointingly limp. By this time the man on my left had taken out his prick, which was far from limp.

While I was wondering whether to take it in my left hand, he started shaking, leaned forward, and ejaculated copiously all over the floor. By this time, I realised almost the whole of the row in front had turned round and were watching us. So what? Some of them were wanking openly too. My prick was a bit sore after my first orgasm and my wanker was being far too rough. I gently removed his hand and placed it on his own apology for an erection, while stroking mine gently with my left hand. My impotent neighbour seemed offended by this as he immediately tucked his prick into his trousers and zipped them up. I continued wanking and he just sat and watched the film. After a few moments, I heard what sounded like a trickle of water. It was coming from my immediate right and I looked down. My neighbour was wetting himself! Intentionally, judging from the blissful look on his face.

 His trousers were soaked, so was the seat, and there was an ever-widening puddle on the floor. Suddenly he unzipped his trousers and took out a gigantic erection! Wow! A pee-fetishist! I realised that his wetting himself had excited not only him, but me too, and I could feel the sperm welling up at the base of my prick. I came within seconds, and so did the pisser – with scarcely any hand-contact at all! Gosh! I must try that. Not during the lunch hour, of course. Perhaps one evening. I could even try it at home that same day.

Heavens – I was going to be late – it was nearly two-fifteen! I hastily wiped my prick with my handkerchief and tucked it away. Two orgasms in less than an hour. And I’d never seen as many naked pricks in one place since my boarding-school days. Lunch hours would never be the same again…