The World’s First Futa 11 – Futa’s Wild Presidency Chapter 3: Futa’s First Harem Treat

The World’s First Futa – Futa’s Wild Presidency

Chapter Three: Futa’s First Harem Treat

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

April 17th, 2047

“So meeting with King Njam bin Mohammad ibn Saud was not what I expected,” I said to Adelia, the cameras rolling.

My interview was almost over. We were in the final stretch. It was wonderful to tell, but I was feeling the mental strain now. Still, it was a wonderful way to spend my forty-eight birthday by looking back on my life. We were talking about my first year in office as president.

“In what way?” she asked.

“Well, I hadn’t expected such a warm welcome from the leader of one of the most conservative countries in the world,” I said. “He was jovial, friendly, and eager to cater to me.”

“Really?” Adelia said, leaning forward. I’d never publicly discussed my meeting with King Njam before, mainly to protect him. But ten years later, the world, especially the Middle East, had changed so much. “You mean, he offered you pussy, right?”

“Yep, pussy,” I said, grinning, remembering that feeling of shock when Ayishah had appeared.

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February 17th, 2037

King Njam bin Mohammad, head of the House of Saud, King of the Saudi Arabs, swept into the antechamber in flowing robes of white belted about his waist. He wore the red, checkered turban, called the keffiyeh, particular to the Saudi Arabs. A leather cord bound it about his temple. He was in great shape though age was graying his close-cropped beard.

“President Woodward,” he said, embracing me with more warmth than I expected. His beard tickled my cheeks as he planted a welcoming kiss on each one. “What a pleasure to see you.”

I let out a nervous laugh as I shifted in the dark-blue dress I wore, the blouse far more conservative than anything I would normally wear, the skirt falling down to just below my knees. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“Please, please, call me Njam,” he said, breaking away.

“Becky,” I said, giving him a smile. An anxious flutter ran through my guts. I had to win his support. He controlled the largest coalition of Arab countries. If I could get him, Jordan, and Egypt on my side, I would have a chance to make changes in the Middle East.

But how?

“So, I hope you’re not offended that I am not wearing a veil or hijab,” I said.

He waved his hands. “You have a cock, so that makes you more man than many I know.”

That shocked me.

“But come, come, let us talk and enjoy pleasures,” he said, sitting down on a divan covered in gold damask. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” I said, taking a seat across from a polished, marble table. Around the room, our bodyguards stood, all in suits though his wore the same keffiyeh that he did. Other than that, you couldn’t tell his from my secret service agents. “Thank you. I’m eager to build a relationship between our countries.”

“Oh, yes, I saw the relationship you built with England and France.” He smiled. “Did the President of France truly offer up his wife to you?”

“He watched,” I said. “Then he enjoyed her when I was done. They were quite… happy. I have that effect on couples. I help… lubricate things between them.” I arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps you and your wives could use that sort of…”

My words trailed off when I saw the girl who entered with our coffee on a golden tray. She was dressed like a harem girl straight out of a perverted fantasy, her slender, dusky body clad in black silk that was so thin her flesh bled through. I could see her small breasts and the tight cleft of her shaved pussy. Her legs were lithe as her pantaloons rustled. Her veil was equally transparent, her eyes dark and smoky over them.

“Oh, my,” I said, my dick going hard as the girl set the golden tray on the coffee table. Steam rose from a carafe while beside it rested two porcelain cups flanking a sugar bowl. “That’s… I didn’t…” I couldn’t think. The last thing I expected was this. “Who is she?”

“Ayishah,” he said. “I… engaged her services. For you. I know your… appetites.”

“She’s a hooker?” I blurted out before I remembered my diplomacy. I was just so… off-balanced by her youthful presence.

“No, no, prostitution is illegal in the Kingdom,” he said. “She’s my wife. A… pleasure marriage. What we call a nikah mut’ah.”

“She’s your wife and… you want me to… But I thought…?”

“No, no, she’s my temporary wife. When her services are complete, I will divorce her and some other man can marry her and enjoy her beauty.” He smiled at her. “Then we do not violate Allah’s prohibitions, you see?”

I nodded my head, staring at her. “And me?”

“Well, you are different,” he said. “You have that affect on women. You are clearly Allah’s gift to the world, something to invigorate it with new blood. A… change, if you will. Look at Ayishah, already her lusts are upon her. Look, look, her silks are growing wet.”

I stared at the girl. She couldn’t be much older than eighteen. Her nipples poked hard against her tight, silk blouse, and the black silk grew damp around her crotch. She licked her plump lips behind her veil, her eyes smoky as they stared at her.

“I have yet to enjoy her pleasure,” he said, his hands undoing his belt. “I thought we could share… Enjoy your style of diplomacy.”

I nodded my head as I drew up my skirt. The girl let out a whimper, her hips swaying from side to side. “President Futa,” she moaned. “You truly have big cock.”

“Yes,” I groaned. “I have a big cock.”

“Cock,” she repeated, saying the word slowly. “You are making me so… so…” Her words trailed off as she squirmed.

“Don’t be shy,” I said, exposing my gray, silk panties cupping my girl-dick. I so loved these new style of panties that clothing manufactures now made. “Say it. Tell us how wet you are.”

“Yes, my sweet Ayishah,” groaned the king. He stood up and pulled off his robes, exposing a compact and muscular body beneath. He kept himself fit. His cock tented a pair of western style boxers. It wasn’t ‘nearly as big as mine. “Don’t hold back your passions around her.”

“You make me very wet,” the girl moaned. “My… my…”

“Pussy?” I suggested.

She nodded her head. “My pussy is so very wet and…” She licked her lips. “You will fuck me? I never fuck cock so big before.”

“Absolutely,” I groaned, then glanced over at Njam as he shoved down his boxers. An idea popped into my head. “We’re going to share you. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

She nodded her head, her dark eyes dancing. This prostitute was so delicious. I’d never been with one before, at least not knowingly, and I didn’t care. Not with her in this delicious harem outfit. I wanted to rip down those pantaloons and go to town on her.

“You know how to give a blowjob?” I asked, standing up, my futa-dick thrusting out before me.

Her hand squeezed my shaft, her fingers soft as silk. “You want me suck your cock? My mouth give good pleasure.”

“No, no, your husband’s cock,” I moaned, “while I breed your tight pussy, Ayishah.”

She shuddered. Her eyes went so wide. “Oh, that is naughty, President Futa.”

The king grinned at me. He clearly approved, stroking his cock and staring at his prostitute-wife.

“Go,” I told her. “Fall to your knees and blow him while I take care of that hot cunt of yours.”

“Yes, President Futa!” The girl moved with such grace, all willowy delight like Barbara Eden from I Dream of Jeannie.

She sank to her knees before King Njam, her hands stroking up his hairy thighs. She thrust her rump at me, the curves of her dusky butt-cheeks bleeding through the the transparent fabric of her pantaloons. I groaned at the sight, my dick throbbing in need, my pussy so wet.

As the king groaned, Ayishah sucking on his dick, I sank to my knees behind her. I ripped down her pantaloons and exposed her cute tush and the tight slit of her shaved pussy. She had a virginal quality about her that made me ache.

“Yes,” groaned the king, one hand dug into her hair as she bobbed her mouth up and down his shaft. She still wore her veil, but she must have lifted it to swallow his dick. “That’s it. Ooh, you are such a little slut.” He growled something in Arabic.

She moaned and wiggled her hips. A line of her clear pussy juices ran down her inner thighs.

Groaning, I brought my cock to her juicy twat. I pressed against her snatch. Her labia stretched around my thick tip. I groaned as her wet silk engulfed me. Despite her coy, virginal act, she had no hymen. I sank into her depths with ease, her twat clenching around me.

I buried to the hilt in her, my hands gripping her hips. Then I drew back and slammed into her again and again. I groaned, the pleasure spilling through me. This was such a wondrous visit to the Saudi Arabia. An absolute delight.

“Yes, yes, yes, Ayishah,” I panted. “I’m going to breed this hot cunt. I’m going to fill you with my cum.”

She moaned about the king’s dick while her pussy squeezed down on my withdrawing cock.

I thrust back into her, the silky friction washing over me. “I can tell how much you want my futa-cum firing into you. You’re just so eager for it.”

She moaned again.

“You really turn women into sluts, don’t you?” he said.

“I do,” I groaned. “Into sluts that please their husbands after I’m gone.”

He groaned, his hands gripping the prostitute’s head, fucking Ayishah’s mouth up and down his shaft. “Lucky husbands.”

I grinned at him, thrusting harder and harder into Ayishah’s tight cunt. Her juicy snatch stimulated me. My orgasm built in my pussy. Every thrust into her tight depths spilled rapture down my shaft to my hot cunt.

As my twat grew hotter, my ovaries grew tighter. They absorbed the heat, exciting my cum in them. My tits heaved in my blouse as I slammed into the prostitute’s snatch, loving how that ache built at the tip of my girl-cock, that wondrous need to erupt into her snatch and fill her with blast after blast of my jizz.

It would be incredible.

“Becky, she is sucking so hard,” he groaned.