Beneath the Stone Wall
Miriam's fingertips trembled as she clutched my collar tightly. For someone who'd boldly burrowed into my arms, the tension of a girl crossing a line for the first time radiated from her palpably. I gently laid my hand over her small one, which gripped my collar like a baby's. Even through that thin scrap of fabric, her pounding pulse thrummed with maddening clarity.
This moment was so utterly lovable. Yet a petty urge stirred to fluster the audacious Miriam just once. I leaned down to her ear and whispered huskily.
"Well... wanna check?"
My low, thick voice burrowed into her ear, and her shallow breaths hitched sharply. Did her grip loosen? Her hold on my collar slackened, her hand sliding down naturally. Under the moonlight, her nape and cheeks burned crimson, ready to burst.
Emboldened by my increasingly bold and overt demeanor, she'd tried to act confident, but now she floundered, unsure how to respond. She cupped her flushed cheeks with both hands, averting her gaze. But her legs buckled from tension, and her body crumpled helplessly downward.
"Eek...!"
A pained whimper she'd never make under normal circumstances. Her body poured into my arms. I shot out my arm, catching her slender waist firmly. Through her woefully thin clothes—barely a barrier against the desert night air—her quivering skin's warmth seeped in hotly. The soft breasts pressed flush against my chest, the sweet acacia scent of her body. Overwhelmed by sensations that made paradise feel inadequate, my gaze on her grew feral, impossible to hide.
"Miriam."
At my call, she peeked up through her fingers. Those amber eyes held unyielding, sticky desire—no trace of hesitation.
"Shall we... go to the room?"
It was my last shred of reason, squeezed out before it struck. But Miriam, nestled in my arms, shook her head small but firm. Her arms locked around my neck; her fever-hot cheek rubbed desperately against my jaw.
"No. I don't want to be apart even a step... right here, right now..."
Even the walk to the bedroom was too much—a plaintive, utterly lascivious whine. The fraying thread of my restraint caught fire and snapped.
I scooped under her back and hips with both arms, hoisting her into the air in one swift motion.
"Ah...!"
Her feet left the ground abruptly; she let out a short cry, instinctively wrapping her legs tight around my waist. Her plush yet firm thighs clamped my sides; our lower bellies met seamlessly. I swallowed mad regret. Not for starting this—I was dying to plunge further. No, for impulsively lifting her, leaving our cursed outer clothes still in the way. I wanted to strip her bare and feel her skin's heat, but with her already hoisted, there was no angle. Proof my reason was already on strike to instinct.
"Baraka, gonna just hold still...? Then let me..."
But her bold virgin's courage—whispering so overtly, tickling my ear—vaporized that regret. Still cradling her firmly, I strode toward the shadowed corner of the moonlit courtyard, by the stone wall.
Thud.
I pressed Miriam's back heavily against the cool, rough stone wall. Was it the wall's chill or the illicit thrill of outdoors? Her body shuddered sharply on contact. Worried, I checked her face—did she really want her first time outside, against a wall? Wouldn't a warm, cozy bed be better?
But a thick smile curved her lips as she met my eyes. Not cold-induced—excitement, proven as her legs clamped tighter. Dizzying weightlessness with feet dangling, primal heat radiating from our locked bellies. No escape, no reason to hold back.
"Baraka..."
Our gazes locked, gleaming in the faint moonlight. Raw desire in unavoidable confrontation. I exhaled raggedly and devoured her lips.
"Mmmph...! Nngh... Hnngh..."
Soft. That meager word was all it took. Her lips parted clumsily; my tongue slipped in tentatively, then bound her fresh one, ravaging her mouth hot and relentless. Even her gasping ineptitude at breathing was insanely endearing. As our bodies ground fiercely—lips, breasts, thighs, groins—her yielding softness, shared so wildly, drowned me. Saliva-slick smacks spread secretly under the silent wall.
In a brief parting as she reeled breathless, I hiked up her clothes roughly, using my weight. Outer and inner layers fell limply to the ground. The dagger I'd gifted slipped from between her breasts, clattering ignored. Finally, nothing barred us.
Her face blazed as she took in our exposed undersides. Even measuring my hardened length with her palm—earnest, sizing it up—was adorably precious. Honestly, I wondered: in this stuffy, conservative 12th-century Middle East, how could a woman stand so boldly by my side, now crashing her desires into mine? Inevitable that I'd be helplessly drawn to her.
"Miriam, you okay...?"
Just before union. To my cautious question, she answered by overlapping her flushed lips on mine.
"Fill me. Until tomorrow morning... so this happiness never ends..."
That shattered my last hesitation. I gripped her frail yet elastic hips. Her entrance glistened slick with arousal, primed to clench me tight. But I teased slowly, rubbing my rigid shaft against her clit, tormenting one last time.
"Hnnngh...! Baraka, please...!"
Her heated whine stripped my remaining restraint.
"I love you, Miriam."
Short, sincere confession. Sealing her reply with a kiss, I aligned and thrust in slow but sure, root-deep.
"Heeek...! Ah, aahh..."
Melting into my words, but as my shaft invaded, alien roughness widened her eyes. Breaking her maiden barrier drew physiological tears of pain. Her walls clenched fiercely; her smooth legs around my waist stiffened, quaking visibly. But I couldn't stop—couldn't end her first time in pain. I pinned her bucking hips, halting, then kissed her sweat-damp brow and nose tenderly.
"It's okay. Look at me. Breathe slow."
At my gentle whisper, her trembling wet lashes lifted; our eyes met. Pain, fear—and far fuller joy. Unneeded worry; I smiled softly, and she mirrored it. Matching her breaths, I rocked my hips heavy and deliberate, root-deep. Response came sure.
"Haah...! Nngh, ah, Baraka...!"
Each deep plunge eased her initial pain; adaptation bloomed into spine-tingling pleasure, unraveling her. Thrusts hammered her depths; her arms clenched harder, nails grazing—not scratching deep—my back, goading me taut. Squish, squelch—roughening pistons, her teasing fingertips, mingled fluids' lewd frictions, ragged breaths filled the dark.
Legs too spent to cling? Between cold wall and my fiery embrace, she melted like molten metal, legs dangling limp. Shifted from standing carry to facing standing—my shaft and arms bore her fully. Precarious, demanding full gravity; instinct made her cling desperately. Her weight drove me deeper, womb-probing savagely.
"Hoo, huu... Miriam. Hold tight."
"Baraka, aaah... more, ngh, my insides, haang! Hold me tighter just a bit... heeek...!"
Protector-protected, adult-girl lines dissolved. Damascus night air rent by beastly flesh-slaps, gasps. Thwack! Thud! Squish! Pinning her to the wall, I rutted like an animal. Each upward slam bounced her frail form; full breasts slashed air, heaving wildly. I fared no better—inner folds scraping my veined rigidity flashed my mind white.
"Mi, Miriam... gonna cum, inside...!"
Limit. Climax surged; my desperate cry. Far from fleeing, she rebound her slick, spent legs, amber eyes tear-glazed, pleading up.
"Ful, fill me... haa, ngh, all of you... inside, aaang!"
Provocative writhe and words incinerated restraint. Shaft speared deepest, to womb-mouth; sensation triggered deep exhale.
"Krrgh...!"
"Aaaaaah—!!"
Splurt, spluuurt—hot, thick seed gushed stupidly into her tight channel. Virgin taking creampie first time; back blocked by wall, her waist quaked in ecstasy. Climax spasms milked every drop.
"Haa... haa..."
Matching sighs, heavy with afterglow. First bout ended; parting with wet pop trailed white cum mixed red blood down her thigh stickily. In medieval Middle East, deflowering an unmarried girl—visual taboo paled to worry.
But it faded quick. How could I fret with her gasping in my arms, gazing up?
"Think that's... the end?"
I nipped her panting earlobe, whispering. Despite recent eruption, her scent and skin kept me rigid.
"Baraka...? Ngh, ah, still...? Ah...!"
Wide-eyed surprise; I claimed her lips again, scooping her from the wall toward the bedroom—wind-blocked, blanketed.
Cold narrow wall done. Night long, winds chill—but ours just began.
"Tonight's gonna be a looong night."
"N-no, Baraka, I can't anymore... haang! There, ah, again, it's coming in...!"
Back to facing carry. Smiling at her clutching kaftan for cover, I slammed into her still-hot core. Unseen, we reached the bedroom; finally proper bed, moonlight baring her nude—second, third rounds crashed relentlessly.
Slap! Squelch! Missionary to doggy; she wailed honestly in virgin pleasure-tsunamis. Desert night air through shutters couldn't cool friction-fevered bodies. How many peaks and loads? Only when overflow soaked sheets did frenzy ebb.
"...Barakaa..."
Dawn grayed east. Courtyard dew-kissed. Utterly spent, finger-twitch impossible, Miriam burrowed my chest, sobbing breaths. Body mess of sweat, fluids, cum—but her smile beamed world's happiest woman. I draped fallen outer clothes tenderly over her bare form, swept sweat-matted hair, kissed her small soft forehead lightly.
"Good job, Miriam."
No words; she hugged my waist, curling cat-like. Birthday party's clamor, parade and banquet politics—distant dreams now. From factory's cold wall, our long dense night. At its tail, heartbeats our lullaby, we slipped into sweet bedroom slumber. Mid-summer's night passed.