Chapter 20: Poolside Lessons
The Manila sun beat down, hot and heavy on the penthouse pool deck, baking the tiles beneath my lounger. Ben’s smooth shoulders gleamed with sweat as he knelt between my spread thighs, his dark head bobbing rhythmically. The chilled mango juice I’d poured over my pussy mingled with my own slickness, creating a sticky-sweet river Ben lapped at with eager, practiced strokes. His tongue was insistent, flicking my clit with precision before delving deep, humming softly against my flesh. I arched my back, a low moan escaping me as pleasure coiled tight in my belly.
My gaze snapped to Nasser, bound securely to a wrought-iron chair nearby with thick silk ties from his own robe. His dark eyes were locked on Ben’s head between my legs, his jaw clenched tight, a vein pulsing in his temple. The bulge straining against his tight swim trunks was obscenely pronounced, tenting the fabric. "See that, Sheikh?" I purred, my voice thick with pleasure and malice. I gave the silk leash attached to his collar a sharp, vicious yank. His head jerked forward. "See how a real man services me?" Ben chuckled against my skin, the vibration sending another jolt through me. "None of your Arab hesitation," I continued, grinding my hips onto Ben’s face, forcing him deeper. "Just pure, greedy worship." Ben moaned his agreement, his fingers digging into my thighs, his tongue working faster, broader strokes now, lapping up every drop of juice and arousal. Nasser groaned, a strangled sound of pure, helpless frustration, his bound hands flexing uselessly against the silk restraints. I watched his cock twitch violently beneath the fabric, knowing his shame was as potent as my pleasure. "Pathetic prince," I sighed, letting go of the leash and sinking back onto the lounger, surrendering completely to Ben’s relentless, devoted mouth.
Ben’s tongue was pure magic, relentless and knowing, driving me higher as I gripped the lounger’s edge. The sweet tang of mango mixed perfectly with my own salt, Ben slurping it up like nectar. Nasser’s choked groan cut through the humid air, useless and delicious. "He’s practically crying, Ben," I gasped, arching sharply as Ben’s fingers joined his tongue, plunging deep. "Look at him squirm." Ben glanced up, his eyes bright with mischief, never stopping his expert ministrations. Nasser’s entire body strained against the silken bonds, sweat slicking his chest, his cock a rigid, desperate outline against soaked fabric. "He wants this," Ben murmured against my thigh, his breath hot. "Wants to taste you." The truth hung thick between us, undeniable. I watched Nasser’s dark eyes, wide with tortured need, fixed on Ben’s mouth working me. "He’ll never get it," I declared, my voice sharp, enjoying the flinch it drew from Nasser. "Not like this." Ben doubled down, sucking my clit hard, making me cry out, my hips lifting off the lounger. Pleasure crashed over me, wave after blinding wave, Ben riding it expertly until I collapsed, trembling. Panting, I pushed Ben’s head gently away, my core throbbing. "See what you miss, Sheikh?" I taunted Nasser, my voice still breathless. His gaze was pure, raw desperation now, flicking between my glistening pussy and Ben’s juice-smeared lips. "Ben," Nasser rasped, the word ripped from him, thick with shame and unbearable want. "Please." His voice cracked. "Let me... lick... what’s left."
Ben chuckled, wiping mango juice from his chin with the back of his hand, his own erection straining visibly against his tight swim trunks. "He’s begging for scraps, Tina," he grinned, shifting slightly on his knees. Nasser’s eyes, dark pools of tortured need, flickered between Ben’s cock and my still-glistening folds.
"Pathetic," I sighed, the word dripping with contempt. I pushed myself up onto one elbow, the sun warm on my bare skin. My fingers trailed lazily through the sticky mess Ben had made between my thighs, gathering juice and slick arousal.
"Since you’re so desperate for a taste, Sheikh," I murmured, my voice low and dangerous. I locked eyes with him, seeing the flicker of hope warring with dread. "Prove you can be useful." I pointed a sticky finger towards Ben’s prominent bulge. "Suck Ben’s cock." Nasser froze, his breath catching audibly. "Now," I commanded, the whip-crack finality snapping him into motion.
He strained forward against the silk ties binding him to the chair, his head stretching towards Ben’s groin. Ben stood, stepping closer, his smooth torso gleaming. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trunks, pushing them down just enough to free his thick, hard cock. Nasser flinched as it sprang free, inches from his face.
"Open wide, Prince," Ben teased, his voice light but commanding. Nasser hesitated, his jaw tight, humiliation radiating off him in waves. I watched, my own fingers sliding lower, circling my clit slowly. "Do it," I hissed, pinching my nipple hard. "Or the leash comes off, and you get nothing."
A low groan escaped Nasser. He leaned forward, his lips parting reluctantly. Ben guided the head of his cock towards Nasser’s mouth. "That’s it," Ben murmured, pressing gently. Nasser closed his eyes, accepting the slick tip onto his tongue. Ben sighed, threading fingers into Nasser’s dark hair. "Take it deep, Sheikh."
I watched Nasser’s lips stretch around Ben’s girth, his head beginning a slow, reluctant bob. The wet sounds filled the humid air. My fingers worked faster on my clit, the sight of the powerful Arab prince servicing Ben sending sharp bolts of pleasure through me. "Good pig," I moaned, arching my back. "Suck him like you mean it."
Ben chuckled darkly, tightening his grip in Nasser’s hair. "Yeah, Sheikh," he taunted, his hips snapping forward sharply. "Get that Arab mouth nice and wet." Nasser gagged as Ben’s thick cock slammed deeper, tears welling in his dark eyes. "Pathetic," Ben snorted, watching Nasser struggle. "Can’t even suck cock right."
I traced lazy circles around my clit, enjoying the symphony of wet choking sounds. "He needs guidance, Ben," I purred, my voice thick with amusement. "Show him how a real pig behaves." Ben grinned, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting violently back in. Nasser’s choked sob vibrated against Ben’s shaft. "Open wider, Prince," Ben commanded, grinding his hips against Nasser’s face. "Take it like the filthy Arab pig you are."
Nasser’s body convulsed against the silk restraints, his muffled cries desperate. "Tastes good, doesn’t it?" Ben mocked, pistoning his hips faster. "Better than Mommy’s chocolate ass?" The wet slap of skin against skin echoed across the deck. "Choke on it," Ben hissed, burying himself to the hilt. Nasser’s eyes rolled back, tears streaking through the sweat on his cheeks. Ben held him there, pulsing, savoring the tight, gagging heat. "Good pig," Ben finally grunted, pulling out with a slick pop. Nasser gasped for air, strings of spit and pre-cum connecting his lips to Ben’s glistening cock. "Now," I commanded, my fingers dipping inside myself, "clean him up."
"Now," I commanded, my fingers dipping inside myself, slick with mango juice and my own wetness, "clean him up."
Nasser flinched, the command washing over him like icy water, his gaze locked on the glistening tip of Ben’s cock still inches from his lips. Strings of saliva and pearly pre-cum stretched between his mouth and Ben’s thick shaft. A tremor ran through his bound shoulders. Ben just grinned down at him, shifting his weight, letting the evidence glisten under the intense sun. "You heard Mommy, Sheikh," Ben murmured, his voice thick with lazy cruelty. "Get to work."
Nasser hesitated, a final, desperate resistance tightening his jaw, his eyes flicking towards mine. I met his gaze, unblinking, my fingers circling my clit slowly, deliberately. "Every drop," I said, my voice low and final. "Lick Ben clean, Prince. Or the leash comes back on, and you get nothing." A choked sound escaped him, half sob, half surrender. He leaned forward, closing the small distance.
His tongue, tentative at first, flicked out, lapping tentatively at the head. Ben hissed softly, a sound of pure pleasure. "That’s it," Ben encouraged, almost mockingly gentle. "Use that Arab tongue." Nasser’s movements became more deliberate, his tongue flattening against the sensitive underside, dragging upwards to collect the slick residue. I watched the muscles in his jaw work, the raw humiliation etched onto his face as he serviced another man under my command. He licked slowly, thoroughly, his movements growing more practiced, almost subconsciously reverent, chasing the salty tang across Ben’s smooth skin. Ben sighed, relaxing into it, a satisfied king. "Good pig," he breathed, watching Nasser’s dark head bob slightly. "Clean it all." Nasser obeyed, his eyes squeezed shut, tears tracking fresh paths through the sweat and spit on his cheeks, his tongue diligently sweeping over every ridge and vein until Ben’s cock was gleaming wet, kissed clean. Only then did he pull back, panting, utterly spent and degraded. "Good," I stated simply.
The humid air clung thick as honey. Nasser slumped forward in the silk bonds, chest heaving, his dark beard sticky with Ben’s essence and his own sweat. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Ben just stood there, smug, idly stroking his still-hard cock, glistening wet from Nasser’s thorough cleaning. The sun beat down, highlighting the sheen on Nasser’s bound shoulders, the tremor in his thighs. "Look at him," Ben chuckled, nudging Nasser’s chin up with his foot. "Wrecked." Nasser flinched, humiliation radiating off him in palpable waves, hotter than the Manila sun. His cock still tented the soaked fabric of his trunks, a stubborn, aching betrayal. I swung my legs off the lounger, the tiles warm under my bare feet.
I walked slowly towards them, the scent of mango, sweat, and sex thick in my nostrils. I stopped before the bound Sheikh, towering over his lowered head. Reaching down, I traced a finger along his damp jawline, sticky with remnants. He shuddered violently at the touch. "Still hard, Prince?" I murmured, my voice dangerously soft. "After licking Ben clean like a common whore?" He squeezed his eyes shut, a low whimper escaping him. Ben grinned, shifting his weight. "Seems he liked it, Tina." My gaze locked onto Ben’s, a silent command passing between us. I let my finger trail lower, over Nasser’s collarbone, damp with exertion. "He hasn't earned release," I stated flatly. "Not yet." I looked back at Ben, the order clear and sharp. "Fuck him."
Ben didn't hesitate. "With pleasure, Tina," he grinned, stepping behind Nasser’s bound form. His hands gripped Nasser’s hips, pulling him roughly forward against the silk restraints, forcing his ass higher off the chair seat. Nasser gasped, muscles straining uselessly against the ties, sweat dripping down his spine onto the hot tile. Ben spat roughly onto his own fingers, then pressed them hard against Nasser’s tight hole. "Filthy Arab," Ben muttered, working the spit in with brutal efficiency. "Always so fucking tight."
"No!" Nasser choked out, arching his back instinctively, futilely trying to escape the invasion. "Don't—" Ben silenced him with a sharp slap across his ass cheek, the crack echoing sharply. "Shut it, Sheikh," Ben growled, lining up his thick cock. "You wanted this." He shoved forward, hard and relentless, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Nasser screamed, a raw, guttural sound ripped from his throat, his body convulsing against the bonds. Ben held himself deep, letting the Sheikh feel every inch stretching him obscenely wide. "Feel that?" Ben hissed, grinding his hips. "Feel Ben fucking your royal Arab ass?"
Tina watched, transfixed, her own fingers circling her clit faster. "Yes," she breathed, her voice thick with dark delight. "Fuck him harder, Ben. Break him." Ben obeyed, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in with punishing force. Nasser sobbed, tears streaming freely now, mixing with the sweat pooling at the base of his spine. Each thrust rocked the heavy chair forward on the tiles with a scrape. "Look at him," Ben grunted, pistoning relentlessly, his own sweat dripping onto Nasser’s back. "Pathetic Arab prince getting his asshole wrecked." Tina leaned closer, her breath hot on Nasser’s ear. "Remember Mommy’s closet?" she whispered savagely. "This is worse." Ben laughed, a harsh bark. "Much worse, Sheikh." He gripped Nasser’s hair, yanking his head back. "Tell Tina you love it." Nasser whimpered, incoherent, his cock still painfully hard, trapped against the chair. "Say it!" Ben roared, pounding into him harder. "Filthy pig loves Ben’s cock!" Nasser’s body shuddered violently, a choked, broken cry escaping him. "Y-yes!" he gasped, the word thick with shame. "Filthy pig... loves it!" Ben slammed home one final, brutal time, holding deep as Nasser trembled, utterly broken. Tina moaned, her climax hitting sharp and sudden, watching the powerful Sheikh reduced to a sobbing, used hole. Ben pulled out with a wet, sucking sound, leaving Nasser slumped, gasping, his asshole gaping obscenely under the harsh sun. Tina traced a finger through the sweat on his trembling shoulder. "Good pig," she murmured, the victory absolute.
The victory, thick and sweet as the mango juice drying on my skin, lingered. "Keep him just like that," I ordered Ben, my voice slicing through Nasser’s ragged gasps. He nodded sharply, planting a possessive hand on Nasser’s trembling shoulder, pinning the spent Sheikh to the chair. I moved purposefully towards the deck storage box, its cool metal contrast stark against the sun-baked tiles. Inside, nestled beside pool towels, lay the harness – thick black straps, cold buckles, and the heavy, veined silicone cock, glistening faintly with residual lube from last time. Filthy Arab needs reminding who owns this ass, I thought, the coarse plastic feeling heavy, almost alive, in my grip as I strapped it on, the harness snug against my hips, the weight settling low and demanding. Its blunt tip hovered inches from Nasser’s glistening, abused hole, still gaping slightly from Ben’s intrusion. His bound body stiffened, sensing the new threat.
"Look at him tremble, Tina," Ben chuckled darkly, stepping back slightly, his own hand already sliding inside his trunks to grip his hardening cock. "Little Arab prince scared of Mommy’s big Filipina dick." He began stroking himself slowly, eyes fixed on the scene. Nasser whimpered, turning his sweat-streaked face away, unable to meet the cold gaze of the silicone poised at his entrance. "None of that," I snapped, seizing his hair, wrenching his head back. "Look at me, Sheikh." His dark eyes, filled with shame and a flicker of terrified arousal, locked onto mine. "Watch the fat Filipina pig ruin your precious Arab hole." My hips snapped forward, driving the thick, unforgiving silicone deep into his unprepared tightness with one brutal thrust. He cried out, a raw, choked sound lost in the city’s distant hum, his body arching violently against the bonds. "Filthy Arab cunt!" Ben hissed, jerking his cock faster, spit flying as he leaned closer to Nasser’s ear. "Bet Filipina cock stretches you better than sand." I pistoned the strap-on relentlessly, the hard ridges dragging against his inner walls, pulling gasps and choked sobs with every stroke. "Tell Ben how much this fat, brown cock owns you!" I commanded, the slap of silicone against flesh punctuating each word. "Say it!" Nasser’s body convulsed, tears streaming freely now, mixing with sweat and spit. "O-Owns me!" he gasped, the humiliation absolute, shattering him further with each syllable. "Filthy Arab loves... loves Filipina cock!"
"Filthy Arab loves Filipina cock!" Nasser gasped, his confession thick with tears and sweat. The silicone shaft pistoned deeper, stretching him obscenely wide with each brutal thrust. Ben watched, mesmerized, stroking himself faster beside Nasser’s trembling form. "Ben," I commanded, my voice sharp over the wet slap of flesh against plastic, "Get your greedy mouth on Mommy’s asshole." I arched my back, presenting the curve of my ass towards him, the harness straps digging into my hips. "Lick it clean while I wreck this Arab prince."
Ben didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees behind me, his hands gripping my hips. His warm, wet tongue immediately swiped a broad stripe through the sweat and musk gathered in my crease. I groaned, the dual sensation electric – the hard, relentless drive of the strap-on fucking Nasser’s tight hole and Ben’s eager tongue lapping at my asshole. "Taste that, Ben?" I panted, grinding back onto his face while thrusting harder into Nasser’s yielding body. "Taste Mommy’s dirty Filipina ass?" Ben moaned against me, his nose buried deep, tongue probing insistently. "Fuck yes, Tina," he mumbled, his words vibrating against my skin. "Musky as hell."
Nasser whimpered beneath me, his bound body rocking violently with each shove of the strap-on. "Hear that, Sheikh?" I hissed, driving the silicone impossibly deep, making him cry out. "Ben’s licking my asshole clean while I fuck yours raw." Ben’s tongue worked faster, hotter, slurping obscenely. "Both of you," I snarled, the power surging through me, "Filthy pigs servicing the fat Filipina." Ben groaned his agreement into my flesh; Nasser just shuddered, utterly owned. "Ben loves brown ass," I taunted, feeling his tongue delve deeper. "And you, Prince?" I slammed the strap-on home, holding it deep. "You just love brown cock destroying you." Their choked sounds were my victory song.
Ben’s tongue probed deeper, a hot, wet insistence against my rim while the thick silicone pistoned relentlessly into Nasser’s straining hole. His muffled groans vibrated against my skin, Nasser’s choked whimpers a counterpoint beneath me. The pressure built low in my gut, a familiar, demanding clench that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with pure, visceral dominance.
I bore down hard, grinding my ass backward onto Ben’s face with deliberate force, forcing his nose deeper into my crease just as I slammed the strap-on impossibly deep into Nasser. The tight clench of my own muscles, combined with the brutal thrust, forced a tight, sharp release of air.
Pfffrrrt.
The vibration traveled straight through me, a blunt, vibrating pressure escaping directly onto Ben’s waiting face, pressed flush against me. The sound was muffled, intimate, a sudden, wet burst absorbed by his skin and the humid air trapped between us.
Ben froze. His eager licking stopped dead. For a split second, only the slick squelch of the strap-on fucking Nasser’s ass filled the heavy silence. Then Ben gasped, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath – inhaling. His hands spasmed on my hips, nails digging in briefly. "Fuck, Tina," he choked out, his voice thick and muffled against my flesh, a mix of surprise and something darker, almost reverent in his shock. He didn’t pull away. Nasser let out a fresh, ragged sob beneath the relentless pounding, feeling the tremor run through the strap-on into his core.
I laughed, low and dark, the sound echoing my absolute control. "Breathe it in, Ben," I commanded, thrusting harder, making the silicone shaft grind deep. "That’s the smell of Filipina ass owning your Arab prince." I felt Ben shudder against me, a raw, visceral reaction, before his tongue hesitantly, then desperately, resumed its work, licking with renewed fervor as he inhaled the lingering, musky evidence of my dominance.