Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2018 15:10:26 -0500 From: Whipped Subject: Have you fucked him yet? (incest/authoritarian) This story is fiction and not based on any real events or people. Everyone portrayed is over eighteen. Sorry for any errors regarding culture or whatever. I didn't use a specific country so I wouldn't offend anyone. Story is kind of long, I guess. I like setting things up. You must be at least eighteen to read this story. Never do this stuff in real life. Chapter 1 My name is James Murphy. When I was in my early thirties, I was relocated by my company to the Middle East to serve as an oil and gas pipeline salesman. For a straight American, it was very strange. Pussy was virtually non-existent. I didn't even see real tits for months at a time. Islam was not kind to my dick. Eventually, I wound up fucking my petite little housekeeper. I convinced her I would take her back to America and marry her and she'd be one of those girls in the magazines she couldn't read. Truth is, I just needed a nut. And I shot a million loads in her mouth and pussy. Not too long after, I was relocated back to America and never really thought about Aemira again unless I was getting a really shitty blowjob. Flash forward to my fifties. Now I'm married, an executive, have three children, a hot trophy wife, and a just as horny if older body. A huge opportunity for the company comes up in the same Middle Eastern country and I'm asked, because of my prior experience, to take over operations there. You can guess my wife's response. It took about 10k at the local galleria to warm her to the idea. Eventually, I got the go ahead as long as she could stay in the US with the kids. You can guess where this is going. First thing I did was look for pussy and things had only gotten worse. The country had become even more fundamentalist and even instituted some Sharia law. My dick was fucked and not in a good way. I sought out Aemira. I figured she would be old and dry by now, but any pussy beat jerking my dick without porn. Here's the fucked up part. She had died from some fucked up disease, but her son Yakub answered the door. He had red hair. I guess that means more if you know what I look like. I'm Boston Irish, 6'3, 240 pounds, and been a ginger my whole life. I had never seen a redhead in this country. Never in the Middle East although I heard they existed. Just that made me think he had to be mine. Then I really looked at him. He wasn't tall like me, maybe 5'6, but his skin was more white than the brown of most of his countrymen. He was also slender from what I could tell through his robe. The kicker, though, he had my birthmark. There was a tiny star looking splotch on the same part of his hand. The same mark my other kids had. Put him in a room with my other kids and in Western clothes and there would be no doubt he was their sibling. Hell, he could pass for full blooded white American. The kid was full on Muslim though and I guess acknowledging I was his dad would have meant calling his mom a whore. He offered to take the housekeeping job when I said that was why I came and I didn't have it in me to tell him it was meant to get me pussy. I figured I owed him a job or something. He moved in a week later. He turned out to be a decent housekeeper and even cook. Turns out his name was Arabic for James. I guess his mom knew he was mine. Things kind of settled in and we developed a rhythm. I tried at first to treat him like my son, but he seemed almost offended so our relationship became more master and servant. I was definitely not used to that level of subservience, but apparently it was expected here. He also didn't know much English so our conversations were limited. About a month after he moved in, I had a dinner party for some other Americans and a local prince named Ahmed. Americans were allowed to have alcohol so our parties drew a crowd and some important officials. There were at least two hundred men closer to the throne, but this prince was still important. He stayed after everyone else had left and said he wanted to practice his English. He had been starting at Yakub all throughout dinner in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. He had also become very drunk. He spoke finally and said, "Have you fucked him yet?" I was shocked. My first instinct was to punch him and tell him I wasn't a fag. I reined that in and just shook my head. I said, "I think he is my son from my last time here." Ahmed laughed and said, "Even better. To fuck ones own creation is a blessing indeed. " I replied, "Isn't it a sin to have sex here? A crime even? He is also a boy..." He put on a very grave face and said: Our women are to be protected at all costs. To lust for or use a woman outside of marriage is now a great sin. But this boy, he is qumāma. You are sahib. Some say even Mohammed had catamites. There is a saying here that boys are for pleasure and women are for children. Besides, if he tells anyone he will be whipped or executed. You would be forgiven. He could tell I was shocked. He hugged me close and said: It is fine. We all have needs. Simply do not tell others and it is fine. I would like to use him if I may and maybe it will make you more comfortable, yes? I didn't really have a choice. This man could ruin or make my fortune. I nodded. The next thing I knew he shouted for my son. When he arrived, he said something to him in Arabic and the boy disrobed. His body was almost totally smooth, I assume naturally. His dick wasn't hard and only about five inches I was willing to bet when it was. His body was very toned and not the bony body some boys have. Ahmed disrobed as well and his body was definitely not toned or smooth. He was about 5'10 and almost all fat. He was also the hairiest man I'd ever seen. He shouted something at Yakub and when he hesitated he slapped him across the face hard. A second later the boy was on his knees. The prince spoke to me: You must not be afraid to hurt him. He is trash and must know his place. You are the master and I am your guest. He exists to please us only. For the first time in my life, my dick started to harden a little for something other than pussy. Ahmed had the boy on his knees, licking his hairy balls. The kid must be disgusted, but he was obeying and even took the princes dick in his mouth as I watched. I had never watched live sex before, much less gay sex. Ahmed said: As his master and father, you should break him as soon as possible. He must know his place. You must fuck him first as well. I am betting his young bottom will feel wonderful around your dick. And then mine as well. You may wish to use the olive oil. Then he gestured, as if to tell me to hurry up. I said, "Now?" He nodded. I undressed, picked up the olive oil jar, and knelt behind my son. My dick was still mostly soft. As I poured the oil on his young ass and realized what I was about to do it got hard quick. Eight inches of all American dick. I don't think the poor kid even knew what anal sex was, but he was about to be the first person to take my dick up their ass since I was in college. I kneaded his cheeks and then positioned my hard dick at his butthole. Ahmed pushed Yakub's head down between his legs and gripped it tight with his thighs and hands. The prince said: Remember, he is not a woman or anything but qumāma. Take your pleasure. It is good if you hurt him. It will teach him his place. And I will not be gentle. When I shoved it in, Yakub screamed and bucked. It was easily the best sex I ever had. Physically, his asshole was like tight velvet massaging my dick on every stroke. I had fantasized about really pounding ass, but my dick had always been too big. Now, it didn't matter. As he writhed and cried under me, I brutalized his boy pussy. Balls deep hard slams over and over and over. I treated him worse than I'd treat the cheapest dirtiest whore. Mentally, it was hot too. I'm not a faggot. Never even gotten a handjob from a guy. But he was my son. And he looked almost like my son Jeremy who was turning into a spoiled rotten asshole and who I wasn't even allowed to spank or slap when he mouthed off. And knowing Yakub couldn't report it, but just had to take whatever I did was incredible. I started twisting his nipples and squeezing his balls just to hurt him by the end. When I finally nutted, I creamed straight up his asshole. He collapsed on the floor. Ahmed let him lay there for a second, then shouted instructions to him in Arabic. Yakub got up and I could see my cum and I think a little blood leaking from his ass. He went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of water and some cloths. He proceeded to wash my dick and balls off with the cloth, then washed my feet as well. Afterwards, he kissed my feet and said something in Arabic I didn't understand. Ahmed asked, "May I finish with him?" I nodded, but walked into the other room. It felt more polite. A few minutes later, I couldn't help but notice the cum dripping from Yakub's face as he walked the prince out.