Dans le Murs (Part 13)

Synopsis: Colin and Nahdya have been reunited in Delhi and her recovery has allowed the sex to resume as exciting as ever. Resulting from the work, Nahdya has been elevated and Colin is set to become the next Grand master of Lille. There are some challenges to Nahdya’s status and Ceres begins to suspect that the couple have more than just a working relationship. Colin prepares to return to Lille. Now read on.

Part 13 – Relaxation and Responsibility

Authors note: As this is written in the UK any reference to the ‘Age of Consent’ is to the age in the UK, which currently stands at 18 years. Whilst consensual sexual relations between a 16-year-old girl and a 45-year-old man might raise eyebrows, it does not contravene English law. Don’t get it confused with the ‘Age of Majority’, which remains at 18, as does the age for consensual Gay relationships. I have also tried to apply the national age for consensual sex in the country of origin where the person is not English. It’s called ‘bending the rules’. All characters, names and most organisations are fictional but some of the places exist. Geographical and logical errors are mine. CAH (Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia) is a rare genetic disorder which can cause disrupted puberty.

His words lay heavily on me that night and sex was very unsatisfactory. Nahdya was kind and considerate as usual and assumed it was because of the forthcoming journey. There was little time in the morning other than to pack and soon I was being transported to the airport by my friend Gupta Singh in his trusty, if rickety, Ambassador. He checked me through security very smoothly and onto my Gulf Air A320 Airbus flight to Paris CDG via Qatar then bid me goodbye. The flight was on time and soon I was dozing at 33000 feet. Like most long-haul flights it was boring; I had already seen the in-flight movie and all they kept doing was plying us with food. The stopover at Qatar overran and we seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time refuelling. Once in the air again I tried to sleep but Ceres words about duty and relationships kept surfacing. I did not know what to do. I knew that to try and quit the cult was probably signing both our death warrants; anyway I wanted to continue. As Grand Master I would have a privileged position with power and autonomy, not to mention the pick of any girl in the temple. On the other hand I loved Nahdya in a way I never expected possible. She only had to smile and my world lit up; she was beautiful, intelligent and her ability in bed was fantastic and so satisfying.

“Oh bugger!” I said quite softly to myself.
“It is so bad?” I hadn’t even noticed the lady beside me before she put down her novel and looked at me. She was forty-something, smart, Arabic.
“Oh! I am most terribly sorry madame.” I apologised profusely, “I have a lot of things on my mind at the moment and I just spoke my frustration out loud. I most humbly hope I have not offended you.”
She smiled widely. “I have heard very much worse.” she said in a musical voice, “I am a doctor and some patients can be very outspoken in times of stress. My name is Fatima Rashid al Zarqawi, Doctor of Medicine from UAR travelling to Paris for a conference on contraception and already bored.”
I laughed genuinely. “It is a pleasure to meet you Doctor;” I replied, “I am Colin deVilliers, Bachelor of Science with Honours, late of the city of Winchester in England, travelling to Lille via Paris from New Delhi on business.” We shook hands; hers were small and icy-cold.
“You are travelling alone Mister deVilliers?” she asked.
“I am.” I replied, “It is but a short visit before I return to New Delhi.”
“Your wife is in India?” she asked.
I looked down. “My wife passed away fairly recently.” I said sadly.
“Ah, yes.” she said mysteriously, “You are not old, she must have been quite young too? Let me guess, it was not natural causes?”
I suppose as a doctor she was used to blunt questions and her Arabic origins were such that enquiries like this were normal but it was uncomfortable. Additionally her tone was almost a statement not a question.
“She was thirty nine.” I told her, “And you are right, it was far from natural causes. She was mugged and died from her injuries. Luckily we had no children.” Okay, it was near enough to the truth.
“Oh that is terrible.” Fatima patted my hand, “You poor man; what an appalling experience. That was not in India I think?”
I shook my head. “No, it was in Southampton, in England. She was visiting her mother when it occurred. The police have not found who did it yet.”
“May the peace of the prophet be upon you.” she whispered.
“Thank you.” I replied, “I am grateful for you prayer.”
“You are not Muslim?” she asked unexpectedly.
Again I shook my head. “I have respect for all faiths but for myself, I have none.”

I heard a giggle. “Maybe, in the light of all that is done in the name of religion, that is an honourable state.” she said.
I nodded. “Religion is a dangerous topic of conversation.” I began, “Tell me a little about Fatima; is she married, what does she study?
“Yes I am married.” she said with a wistful smile, “I have two sons, both at school. My husband is unfaithful, this I know, and we no longer share a bed. This for some years now. I studied in Riyadh and my speciality was gynaecology but now I am interested more in contraception.”
“That must be a very frustrating subject in many parts of the world; once again religion plays a part?” I observed.
“Stupid!” she said vehemently, “Too many children and still they are unwilling to take care. Religious dogma or just ignorance; either way it means more mouths. Now we can prevent it so easily and at low cost but may we? No, local customs or religious beliefs forbid it. Perhaps your atheism is the best way.”
“I think many people need a belief.” I responded, “Atheism would not suit all I fear.”
“I fear you are right.” she nodded. “Now, as a doctor I ask you Mr deVilliers; do you miss sex with a woman now your wife is gone?”
“I beg your pardon?” I spluttered, “I appreciate you are a doctor but that is indeed very personal.”
“I apologise.” she laughed gently, “It is a very long flight, I am doing research. I thought you might wish to help me.”
“Umm, well, alright, if I can. Is this going to be delicate?”
“Very.” she replied, “I will understand if you refuse. After all I am a stranger, a woman, a Muslim too. I will try not to embarrass you but my research includes very few Occidental subjects so I must seize every opportunity.”
“And what area does your research actually cover?” I enquired warily.
“Natural alternatives to sexual intercourse and their influence on the attitude to and use of contraception.” she said plainly. “Think of it, Mister deVilliers, you may read it in the future and can say that you took part.”
“Now that is personal, I agree.” I replied. “I will do my best but even my broad mindedness might blanch a little.”
She grinned as suddenly she had a notepad and pen in her hand. “Could you answer my first question please?” she said.
“Oh yes, do I miss sex?” I reiterated it, “Yes and no. I would if I had no other outlet but I have already met another young woman.”
“We will come to her shortly.” she mused, “Assume she does not exist at present.”
“Yes I miss sex with my wife.”
“Do you masturbate instead?” she asked bluntly.
My eyebrows shot up but she didn’t bat an eyelid. I nodded. “Yes.” Her pen moved, noting the reply.
“Frequently, that is more than once a day?”
“No.”
“Do you ejaculate each time you masturbate?” she said straight faced.
“Generally yes.” I blushed.
“Did your wife masturbate you as an alternative to sex?” she moved on.
“Sometimes.”
“Was that because of her monthly cycle, because she didn’t wish to become pregnant or other reasons?”
“Mostly because of her period but otherwise because one or other of us fancied it.” I said.
“Did your wife masturbate you with her hand or some other method?”
“She used her hands mainly.” I whispered.
“Did you ejaculate each time she masturbated you?” she continued.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you find it satisfying?” she asked.
“So long as I felt she was getting pleasure then I did.” came the reply, “If I thought she was simply doing it because I wanted it then it was less than satisfying.”
“Did you have less penetrative sex as a result of masturbation?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I suppose we did; I hadn’t given it much thought before now.”
Fatima hummed to herself as she wrote. “Did you use contraception?”
“I didn’t,” I replied, “but my wife did.”
“So when you had sex you always ejaculated into your wife?”
“Yes, I guess so.” I said.
“Were you content within your marriage?” she queried.

I thought for a moment. “Not really.” I replied, “There were differences between our sexual attitudes but in a curious way I was still in love with her.”
She grinned and nodded. “I know. Now, about your new partner.” she began, “Are there still differences?”
“Of course.” I smiled, “She is much younger than me but I am more mature now and we have been able to address them. She is prepared to accommodate my selfish needs plus we have a stronger physical bond between us.”
“A child perhaps, but, no, I think not?” she asked, but almost as if she knew my reply.
I shook my head. “No, we were both injured in an accident; I saved her life.”
“Yes, of course.” she observed, her pen racing over the page, “And did her attitude to sex change after the incident?”
“No, we were very compatible before, it just cemented the relationship.”
“So your sex life is more exciting now than with your wife?”
I nodded. “It is much more varied and open.”
“By varied you mean different activities?”
“Indeed I do.”
“Would you define please if you are able?”
I blushed. “Normal sex of course, masturbation by hand, oral sex, between her breasts, spontaneous. Is that enough?”
“Yes thank you Mister deVilliers, but I may call you Colin?” she smiled warmly, “You have given me much more than I could expect from a stranger. Now, as a doctor I suggest you relax.”
I snuggled in my seat and let my eyes droop. I felt a cool hand lightly on my inner thigh and a whisper in my ear. “And as a woman I can help; I am certain Tessa would not object.” she said silkily.
“Mmm?” was about all I could muster as the fingers lightly brushed my cotton trousers where my penis had swelled as a result of our conversation.
“You feel tense.” she whispered, stroking the tip with he forefinger, “If I cover us with a blanket and turn off the lights I am certain I can help you relax. I would be flattered if you would allow me to extend my research.”
I made a quick decision. “How can I stand in the way of medical research Fatima?” I whispered back with a grin.
“I am grateful.” she said, her hands spreading the soft blanket over both of us, “I have not experienced a man for a very long time and it will be interesting to experiment with a non Arab.” She wriggled down after switching all reading lights off. I put my lips to her ear. “I don’t think the final result will be much different Fatima.” I said softly, “And I strongly suggest you have a tissue or two close by.”
Her fingers explored my rapidly hardening cock. “As a forty three year old married mother and a doctor, I am fully aware of the consequences of my proposed activity. After all, should not a wife help her husband to relax sometimes?” her voice tinkled with humour and took on a different tone.
“Sorry pardon.” I smirked as her small fingers eased down the zipper. “I like your bedside manner.”
“Shhhh!” she hissed, “Be quiet and let me continue my research.” I lay back, closed my eyes and let this attractive lady work her magic. She flicked the little catch at my belt and I felt the fly relax open. Her fingers groped over the trunks and found the opening easily. With a little manoeuvring she eased her hand under the swollen shaft and released it onto her palm. Delicately she explored me, concentrating on the sensitive head and weeping tip.
“Mmm, circumcised like arab men,” she mumbled, “and very well lubricated. Quite large also; I approve.”
“Oh goody!” I thought.
She palmed the head and immediate shaft, sliding her thumb over the slippery bulge while clasping gently and rhythmically. The feeling was exquisite; she didn’t rub, she just squeezed with perfect pressure and I just responded.
“Careful Fatima.” I whispered, “That is a pretty fantastic technique and I can’t control it very easily.” The pressure lessened immediately.
“That is good.” she said, “It was taught to me by my aunt and it works on most men.”

She simply held me gently hardly moving for a minute or two but I knew I was dribbling and very close to coming all the time. She shifted her hand under my cock so that the head rested in her palm again then began to squeeze once more. I guessed what her idea was and I would not disappoint her. I could feel myself swelling and could sense the juice accumulating at the base. I tried not to move too much; it would attract attention and I certainly tried to keep quiet.
“Ohhh Fatima.” I whispered heatedly into her ear, “I think you know what you are making me do. I can’t control it Fatima, I’m sorry but you are going to get a handful.”

Her hand squeezed as my penis began to tremble and pulse as the first thick spurts of semen burst forth. She made a sort of “mmmimmm!” sound as I guess her hand became wet and warm. The climax was short, satisfying and very productive. I could feel the fluid as it sped from the tip at each and every spasm, pooling around the head and filling her hand with teeming warmth. I placed my hand on hers, outside the blanket, to signify that it was over; she released me and slid her hand carefully from under the blanket. In the dim light I could see the glinting mass of seed.
“My goodness.” she whispered, scrabbling for a serviette that was in the holder in front, “I had not expected quite such an abundance. I think my husband was holding out on me.” She scooped the puddle into the tissue then wiped her hands with a cleansing cloth.