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CougarGirl
Star
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2013
Everyone in the village had known Ahmed. They had grown up with him; they had waved him farewell and wished him luck when he left to join the forces fighting the invaders. They had heard the stories of his exploits and of his marriage to a young widow whose her first husband had been killed in battle. Then they had grieved at the news that Ahmed too had now died, fighting bravely.
Shortly after the news reached them, an attractive woman in her late 20s presented herself at the family compound.
‘I am Ahmed’s widow,’ she said simply and they took her in.
She was quiet, respectful and obedient, helping with the chores and to care for the children.
She seldom went out, but when she did everyone noticed her. She walked calmly with her eyes downcast, but all the men noticed the way the breeze blew her robes around her body. They knew what lay beneath. So did the women and they chastised their men for their thoughts.
News of the widow’s arrival spread through the neighbourhood. Soon the local chief summoned her to him. She knelt before him with her head bowed.
‘We have heard the stories of your husband and of how he died. We grieve with you for his loss,’ he told her.
She nodded.
‘Like me. I too was once brave in battle. Now it is time for the younger men to fight.’
Again she nodded, this time looking up into his eyes. He must be in his early 60s, more than double her age.
‘Your husband was brave in battle,’ he tried to console her.
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘he was brave in battle. I am proud of how he fought and how he died.’
The chief did not miss the implication that there was something of which she was not so proud.
‘But?’ he prompted.
‘He did not give me a child,’ she said quietly.
The chief tried again to console her.
‘There was not enough time.’
‘There was plenty of time,’ she insisted.
The chief was used to women blaming men for their failure to conceive and was not impressed, but her next remark pushed that thought out of his mind.
‘I was married before. I had a child, but she died. Ahmed was indeed strong in battle, but he was not strong in bed.’
The chief understood. He shook his head.
‘That is sometimes the way. A man’s strength is channelled into fighting.’
The widow did not argue.
‘I want a child,’ she said simply.
The chief thought he now understood.
‘There are many young men here who would take you as a wife.’
‘I have told the family that I am pregnant. I want a child,’ she replied, ‘not a husband. I can say it is Ahmed’s child and that will bring pleasure to his family, and to me.’
The chief was stunned. He had never had such a blatant request.
‘I want your child,’ she told him and held his gaze.
The chief knew in the instant that he could not refuse her request. He could not resist seeing and touching the body beneath her robes.
‘Come to the side gate of my compound tonight.’
He let her in himself at her first soft knock and led her to a building in a quiet corner, where he undressed her and pulled her down beside him.
His gnarled hands rasped across the soft skin of her breasts, the hard callouses catching her tender nipples. The hairs growing from his nose and ears repelled her. She forced herself to trace the faint outline of the scars on the leathery skin of his chest.
‘You have been strong in battle,’ she whispered, ‘but are you strong in bed?’
‘I will show you,’ he replied and took her without ceremony.
Mentally, she resented the display of male power with which he dominated and pummelled her. Physically, she could not resist responding to his prolonged display of sexual prowess, barely seeming to fight for breath as he thrust hard and deep into her, his body crushing hers. As the waves of her orgasm faded, she realised he had waited for her to finish before he came. She pulled his head down to hers.
‘I’m done,’ she whispered, ‘impregnate me, give me your child.’
In three swift strokes, he was ready and shot his load.
As he lay beside her, she began to talk.
‘Tell me about your exploits in battle,’ she invited, ‘while you recover your strength.’
It was not long before he was riding her again, having regaled her with a tale of heroism in overcoming the superior forces that tried to take his village in the civil war.
As they lay beside each other once more, he seemed more interested in recounting his exploits than in mounting her again and seemed relieved when she took the lead and climbed aboard, draining him for the third time.
‘With all this experience,’ she purred as she dragged her nails across his chest and down his thighs, ‘the leaders must rely on your advice.’
‘Naturally,’ he murmured as her head bowed over his cock and began to suck. ‘In fact, I have advised on the big offence that will soon begin.’
The widow barely seemed to notice as she nibbled and chewed on his cock, finally pulling him on top of her for the fourth time. He struggled to cum and she didn’t bother to try, just doing enough to ensure that she could squeeze out the last drips of his cum.
With him snoring soundly, she slipped out of the side gate, pausing along the way to vomit into some bushes.
Later that day, she announced that she had to return to her family to tell them of her pregnancy, but promised to keep in touch.
Two weeks later, everyone was shocked to hear of the humiliating defeat that their forces had suffered. They were mustering for the planned attack, when the invaders fell on them from all sides. Many were killed. More were injured or captured. They had been ambushed. ‘It was,’ those who had escaped reported, ‘as if they knew our plans.’
Six months later, a plain woman in her late 30s presented herself to Ahmed’s parents, claiming to be his widow. The child with her bore an uncanny resemblance to Ahmed. When she was asked why she had not contacted them sooner, she told a strange tale of being kidnapped and only recently released. They shook their heads sadly. She was clearly deluded. No one believed her and they drove her away.
Shortly after the news reached them, an attractive woman in her late 20s presented herself at the family compound.
‘I am Ahmed’s widow,’ she said simply and they took her in.
She was quiet, respectful and obedient, helping with the chores and to care for the children.
She seldom went out, but when she did everyone noticed her. She walked calmly with her eyes downcast, but all the men noticed the way the breeze blew her robes around her body. They knew what lay beneath. So did the women and they chastised their men for their thoughts.
News of the widow’s arrival spread through the neighbourhood. Soon the local chief summoned her to him. She knelt before him with her head bowed.
‘We have heard the stories of your husband and of how he died. We grieve with you for his loss,’ he told her.
She nodded.
‘Like me. I too was once brave in battle. Now it is time for the younger men to fight.’
Again she nodded, this time looking up into his eyes. He must be in his early 60s, more than double her age.
‘Your husband was brave in battle,’ he tried to console her.
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘he was brave in battle. I am proud of how he fought and how he died.’
The chief did not miss the implication that there was something of which she was not so proud.
‘But?’ he prompted.
‘He did not give me a child,’ she said quietly.
The chief tried again to console her.
‘There was not enough time.’
‘There was plenty of time,’ she insisted.
The chief was used to women blaming men for their failure to conceive and was not impressed, but her next remark pushed that thought out of his mind.
‘I was married before. I had a child, but she died. Ahmed was indeed strong in battle, but he was not strong in bed.’
The chief understood. He shook his head.
‘That is sometimes the way. A man’s strength is channelled into fighting.’
The widow did not argue.
‘I want a child,’ she said simply.
The chief thought he now understood.
‘There are many young men here who would take you as a wife.’
‘I have told the family that I am pregnant. I want a child,’ she replied, ‘not a husband. I can say it is Ahmed’s child and that will bring pleasure to his family, and to me.’
The chief was stunned. He had never had such a blatant request.
‘I want your child,’ she told him and held his gaze.
The chief knew in the instant that he could not refuse her request. He could not resist seeing and touching the body beneath her robes.
‘Come to the side gate of my compound tonight.’
He let her in himself at her first soft knock and led her to a building in a quiet corner, where he undressed her and pulled her down beside him.
His gnarled hands rasped across the soft skin of her breasts, the hard callouses catching her tender nipples. The hairs growing from his nose and ears repelled her. She forced herself to trace the faint outline of the scars on the leathery skin of his chest.
‘You have been strong in battle,’ she whispered, ‘but are you strong in bed?’
‘I will show you,’ he replied and took her without ceremony.
Mentally, she resented the display of male power with which he dominated and pummelled her. Physically, she could not resist responding to his prolonged display of sexual prowess, barely seeming to fight for breath as he thrust hard and deep into her, his body crushing hers. As the waves of her orgasm faded, she realised he had waited for her to finish before he came. She pulled his head down to hers.
‘I’m done,’ she whispered, ‘impregnate me, give me your child.’
In three swift strokes, he was ready and shot his load.
As he lay beside her, she began to talk.
‘Tell me about your exploits in battle,’ she invited, ‘while you recover your strength.’
It was not long before he was riding her again, having regaled her with a tale of heroism in overcoming the superior forces that tried to take his village in the civil war.
As they lay beside each other once more, he seemed more interested in recounting his exploits than in mounting her again and seemed relieved when she took the lead and climbed aboard, draining him for the third time.
‘With all this experience,’ she purred as she dragged her nails across his chest and down his thighs, ‘the leaders must rely on your advice.’
‘Naturally,’ he murmured as her head bowed over his cock and began to suck. ‘In fact, I have advised on the big offence that will soon begin.’
The widow barely seemed to notice as she nibbled and chewed on his cock, finally pulling him on top of her for the fourth time. He struggled to cum and she didn’t bother to try, just doing enough to ensure that she could squeeze out the last drips of his cum.
With him snoring soundly, she slipped out of the side gate, pausing along the way to vomit into some bushes.
Later that day, she announced that she had to return to her family to tell them of her pregnancy, but promised to keep in touch.
Two weeks later, everyone was shocked to hear of the humiliating defeat that their forces had suffered. They were mustering for the planned attack, when the invaders fell on them from all sides. Many were killed. More were injured or captured. They had been ambushed. ‘It was,’ those who had escaped reported, ‘as if they knew our plans.’
Six months later, a plain woman in her late 30s presented herself to Ahmed’s parents, claiming to be his widow. The child with her bore an uncanny resemblance to Ahmed. When she was asked why she had not contacted them sooner, she told a strange tale of being kidnapped and only recently released. They shook their heads sadly. She was clearly deluded. No one believed her and they drove her away.