"Well, how would you like 'Mustapha'?" he asked."If my Master wishes," she said, suppressing a shudder at the outstanding memory of General Mustapha that she had, which was the incredible pain of her defloration."After all a man of that name had a large influence on your life. More than most fathers, I would guess," continued the Emir, "And he shall have the western name 'Peter'. As my son he is, of course, a Prince. You, my dear are now the Princess Maryam."Maryam was still brooding on the implications of naming her son for the General, and failed to notice her elevation to the highest rank a woman can hold.Changing the subject she said, "If my Master wishes, I have plenty of milk; far more than ... Prince Mustapha needs. Some is taken and given away each day so that I only have fresh in my breasts."Kissing her gently on the cheek, the Emir dipped his head and found her nipple. It was only a little painful when his teeth nipped her slightly, and he was able to sample breast milk for. I walked Leslie over to that corner, reached up under her miniskirt, and pulled down her thong panties putting them in my pocket. I lifted her miniskirt up above her waist, lifted her up onto the edge of the sink, and lowered my pants and underwear to my knees making sure that they did not go down to that dirty floor. Leslie asked me if I did drugs or had AIDS. I told her that I did not do drugs and I had been tested for diseases and was clear. Then Leslie took in a deep breath as I rammed my cock into her soaking wet pussy. I figured that if she wanted it dirty then I didn’t have to be cautious or polite. If she wanted it like a cheap whore then I should give it to her that way. As I was fucking her she begged me not to let any other guys fuck her, that she would give them blowjobs and even swallow, but that she didn’t want to ruin her marriage by bringing some sexually transmitted disease home to her husband. She was married, she had two young children, and Leslie was a kindergarten.
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