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Sabah At The Ball part 1
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T H E H O M E R V A R G A S S T O R Y A R C H I V E
All in this archive are the property of the author.
They may be downloaded and read by private citizens. They
are not to be used by commercial web sites. Persons using
this material on commercial sites will be vigorously pur-
sued by the "hounds from hell," or my legal team, whichever
is deemed necessary. These were written for adult
entertainment and should not be accessed by children.
==============================================================
Sabah at the Ball (MC, Fdom, preg, Rom)
By Homer Vargas
vargas111@yahoo.com
***
A sequel to "Sabah and Rod" Rod's Mistress deals with
some jealous rivals at the ball.
***
Proofread and edited by Pet Tigress. Any remaining errors
are my own.
***
Rod slowly pulled himself back to exhausted
consciousness. He smiled weakly, knowing why he felt
dissipated in this way. Sabah had Fed again last night.
It was getting familiar. A Feeding was like an attack of
malaria, he mused, several days of dreamy lassitude, then
a gradual recovery to normal. But even if it were
possible, Rod had no desire to be cured of these attacks.
First, because he knew he was pleasing Sabah. More than
pleasing her, he sustained her. Her very life depended on
the sexual energy she absorbed from him during that
orgasmic fury. That was wonderful knowledge: his
beautiful, sexy, marvelous Mistress needed HIM.
Then too, during his recovery Sabah would spend the days
pampering and coddling him. Lovemaking with Sabah would
be especially gentle and even more frequent. And he knew
she would let him loll for hours, drinking from the
fountain of her self as he worshiped and pleasured her.
Her nourished him, she said. Sabah was very excited
about this discovery and said it made their relationship
more symbiosis than parasite-prey as with her previous
lovers.
Finally, the Feeding itself was never less than
wonderful. He enjoyed making love with Sabah morning and
night (and when she was feeling frisky, during the day,
too). But ordinary sex was nothing compared to a Feeding.
She always made it special.
He still remembered the one a few months after coming to
live with her. It was typical, if any one of a series of
unique adventures can be said to be typical. He never
knew exactly when a Feeding would take place, although of
course he knew that Sabah seldom went for more than three
or four weeks without one. Thus he was expecting nothing
extraordinary when she called him to their bedchamber
early one evening.
Perfectly posed and perfectly naked, Sabah sat smiling on
the edge of her bed, the bed she let him share. A long
green gown that would hug every inch of her perfect body
lay beside her. An emerald choker Rod had never seen was
on the dressing table nearby. Her was piled
high on her head. She was preparing for an evening out.
Rod was struck by her beauty and felt regret that he
could not accompany her wherever it was she was going.
"It's the Winchester League Spring Charity Ball tonight,
my sweet," she said reading the question on his face.
"Will you help me dress?" Not needing to wait for his
reply she nodded to indicate the pair of high-top
stockings he had overlooked. Unquestioningly, Rod took
them and, dropping to his knees before her, began to tug
and roll the delicate fabric up her long firm legs. As he
neared the crotch the aroma of her arousal overpowered
him. He looked up at her with the unstated petition in
his eyes.
"Of course, you may, my darling, at least for a few
minutes." Rod's joy knew no bounds as he thrust his head
between Sabah's luscious thighs and drank deeply of her
essence. Sometimes Rod did not know which form of worship
was best. This had the advantage of being more selfless,
not that HE did not enjoy bringing Sabah to climax with
his mouth and tongue, and he could prolong it for hours.
Yet, ultimately he had to prefer what she did, and no
matter how many time he got her off otherwise, Sabah
ultimately loved to be penetrated, long, hard, repeated
thrusts of his cock into her vagina. Perhaps it was the
only time, if only for a few seconds, but when he was
pounding hard into her, she totally lost control.
Unaware of when she bid him stop, Rod was suddenly
conscious of Sabah's face smiling down at him. "Time for
me to finish getting dressed, my sweet. I can't let you
make us late." She waited just long enough to detect his
happiness as he understood the meaning of her words.
"Your tux is on the bed, sweetheart," she laughed. "Did
you think I wanted to spend a night around a bunch of
stuffy high-society types without you, my love?"
Now it was Sabah's turn to marvel as she cast admiring
glances at Rod while she finished slipping into the gown
and matching heels. She had stripped Rod of all shyness
before her, so he disrobed and began to dress with the
natural grace of serpent changing its skin. She loved to
look at his hard naked body, the firm jaw, the black
curls. In her centuries of existence, she had never had
such a slave and lover.
Since he had come to live with her, she had put him on a
weight training and high protein regimen. A few pounds of
office flab had been replaced by several more of hard,
lean muscle. Sometimes she could not believe her luck
that his beautiful, intelligent was hers. Her need
had been so great the night of the storm, she would have
settled for far less. But when she saw him fully dressed
in the evening attire that just hinted at the hunk
within, she found herself humming, "Someday My Prince
Will Come." Hers had.
"Here are the keys, darling. Take us to the ball."
Sabah was glad she had kept and lovingly preserved the
old Lincoln. The wide bench seats were perfect for
scroonching close and laying her head in Rod's lap like a
happy cat. As he drove the beautiful car along the
twisting mountain road toward the little county seat, she
resisted the urge to open his fly and suck the erection
she felt in his pants. She was saving that for later. His
gentle stroking of her hair and neck had almost put her
to sleep when she felt him decelerate and enter the
winding street of the town on what had been the
Virginia frontier.
Although the town was perhaps 1500 feet lower than her
property up in the Blue Ridges, the sun had set and an
early spring nip was in the air. The stone country
club had been torn down and replaced by a faux-Classical
Revival building that Sabah hated, but tonight it was
blazing with light that illuminated the surrounding
grounds. Sabah threw her fur around her shoulders and
waited for Rod to open the door. A valet took the car as
they made their entrance.
Rod was too happy being with this wonderful woman to be
conscious of the impression the couple made on the
already gathered guests. It would not have occurred to
him that every in the room envied the at the side
of this spectacular woman. Sabah was well know in the
little town, but no one could remember seeing her like
this, brimming with life, scintillating sex appeal. And
who was the tall muscular with her? Nor would
Rod have suspected the depth of instant jealousy the
other women felt when the saw Sabah and their husbands'
reactions. What had SHE done to deserve an Adonis like
him? A thousand generations of feminine intuition told
them the hunk was totally infatuated with the
woman and that Sabah had him fucking her silly.
"Sabah! Good to see you," boomed the friendly voice of
Charles Landsworth, Chairman of the League. "Glad you
could come." Melanie, Charles's wife, was drifting their
way, a slight scowl on her face.
"Good evening, Charles, Melanie," Sabah greeted them.
"I'd like you to meet my new friend Rod." Melanie lifted
an eyebrow. The pleasantries continued, but Sabah didn't
miss Melanie's judgmental attitude. She could almost hear
the sarcastic remarks the trophy would have
liked to make, 'He's a little for you, isn't he?'
'Where did you pick him out, in a sports bar?' as well as
the one she would never have verbalized, though she was
dying to know, 'Does he fuck as good as he looks?'
Sabah was tired of Melanie. She had tried to be friendly.
She had been truly happy that Charles had found someone
so soon after his first wife's death. Sabah guessed that
the woman had seduced him, but Charles seemed
happy. Sabah understood perfectly well that Melanie was
jealous of Sabah's independent standing in the community,
while she lived only in Charles's reflected glow.
Sabah also suspected Melanie secretly regretted giving up
her exciting, if poorly paid life as a junior lobbyist in
Washington for the financial security of Charles's money,
which she spent with abandon. But understanding Melanie
did not make her any easier to stomach. Sabah
particularly resented Melanie for not realizing what a
treasure she had in Charles. When she allowed herself to
pick up impressions, Sabah had confirmed what his face
showed: Charles totally adored his new even though -
and this had been a surprise to Sabah -- she eyedroppered
out the sex to her still lusty husband.
Melanie definitely had her clique. Sabah noticed that the
group of Melanie's snooty friends, Agatha Witherspoon,
Grace Chriswell, Darlene Simms, and Marjory Gresham,
avoided Rod and her throughout the before-dinner
cocktails. She noted the slight aura of hatefulness
around the group. Maybe the time had come to do something
about that, she grinned.
Soon the crowd was called to their seats. Just as Sabah
and Rod were to sit down, Charles came over to take Sabah
to the head table. "I have no idea what this is about,
honey," she whispered to Rod as Charles led her away. As
she took her place at her place to the right of the
Chairman, everyone applauded.
Rod could see on Sabah's face that everything was a total
surprise to her as it was even more to him. He only
understood after dinner when the Chairman announced that
Sabah Noor was being recognized as Winchester's "Citizen
of the Year." Rod knew of course that his Mistress was an
amazing woman, but he had no idea of all her civic
activities. Not only had she donated considerable sums to
many worthy projects and served on many committees, but
she also volunteered at a nearby hospice. One of the
sisters stood to give an emotional testimony of how Sabah
had an almost magical power to calm and cheer the lonely
dying people. Rod found himself choked up with joy and
pride for his marvelous Mistress. He noticed, however,
the group of Melanie and her fiends in one section of the
hall who only looked on sullenly. Sabah noticed as well.
Sabah's acknowledgement was brief and tinged with self-
deprecating humor, but Rod had no doubt she was genuinely
touched by the community's gesture. "So thank you all
again," she said in closing, "but if I'm not mistaken,
this is a ball. So, Let's DANCE!"
Nodding to the orchestra that struck up a slow waltz,
Sabah walked to the center of the empty dance floor. A
nod in his direction told Rod what to do. Although
embarrassed, he rose and made his way among the tables to
Sabah's side. The embarrassment evaporated the moment she
slipped into his arms. For several long seconds the
entire gathering was struck silent by the stunning
woman and the handsome gliding around the
floor. The dance was perfectly proper, but the two bodies
moving as one seemed to generate an erotic field around
them.
One by one, other couples began to join them on the floor
and soon the room was filled with happy, laughing
husbands and wives, some of whom hadn't danced together
for years. As if by magic, however, feet remembered dance
steps long thought forgotten. Wisely, the band kept to
tunes from ten or twenty years earlier, when the mostly
middle age crowd had been dating. Everything was going
according to plan, Sabah smiled.
"Huh?" Rod realized he had been so caught up in the
sensuous pleasure of dancing with Sabah in his arms, he
had not quite heard what she said."
"Never mind, love. We're going to mix things up a little.
Just tell that to all the women you dance with and the
other thing to Melanie."
"Tell what?" he asked, but Sabah had already slipped away
to invite Charles to dance. Rod grinned at Melanie's
obvious displeasure as he offered his arm to one of her
friends who, like Melanie, had not joined in the dancing.
It was Agatha Chriswell, a plump but pleasant looking
woman; pleasant-looking if she didn't have that superior
expression on her face, Rod thought.
The band had been playing a Western Quickstep, but
dropped the pace to something slower as the mixed couples
got the feel of each other. Rod murmured something to
Agatha and she quickly felt comfortable in his arms.
Well, more than comfortable. Rod was surprised and a
little dismayed as the woman began to press herself
against him more and more tightly. When he felt her
actually start to grind her crotch to his groin, Rod
looked around nervously for Sabah. He caught her eye
nearby and she winked.
Fortunately there was a break between songs and Rod was
able to slip from Agatha's ardent grasp. Although they
were not necessarily the most attractive women there, Rod
found himself asking one after another of Melanie's
friends to dance. The pattern with Agatha repeated
itself, indeed it got worse. Rod introduced himself with
the mumbled addendum and the woman practically went into
rut. Grace Witherspoon danced him into a corner and
dragged his hands down to her rather too-ample ass.
Marjory Simms groped his crotch, but Rod put it down to
the frustrations of widowhood. Darlene Gresham managed to
get Rod's hand into her blouse and Lord knows what would
have happened to her bra if another break in the music
hadn't rescued him.
When he finally stood before Melanie, she looked up at
him with a cold smile. "Why not Roddy? We'll dance, but
just because you're a pretty boy, don't expect me to come
onto you. I'm not an overage teenager like them." Melanie
tossed her head in contempt at her companions who were
now dancing like cats in heat with their delighted
husbands.
"What's wrong with a and having fun, Melanie?
Besides..."
Melanie gave a little gasp as Rod finished speaking.
"Er... nothing, I guess," she said and slid a little
closer into Rod's arms. True to her word, Melanie did not
throw herself at him as the other women had, but she
seemed to be in some sort of torment. The music had
picked up the tempo and Melanie was becoming visibly
excited as Rod turned and twirled her. She was double-
stepping the beat and flinging her arms into the air as
if in some sort of frenzy. Soon perspiration had
soaked her silky blouse, revealing a bra straining to
contain Melanie's impressive superstructure.
When the set ended, Rod led a panting, fiery-eyed Melanie
back to the table where Sabah was now sitting with
Charles. Sabah seemed to be just finishing up something
she was whispering in Charles's ear when Sabah nudged
him. Looking up and shaking his head as if awaking from a
dream, Charles's eyes lit up as they fell on Melanie. It
was a Melanie he had not seen in a long time, if ever.
Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared. Everything about
his screamed that she was hot and needed to be
fucked. It was a look Charles had longed for and he rose
and took her in his arms.
"Good work, baby. Want to see how good?" Sabah giggled as
she led Rod away from the pair who were starting to paw
one another. Suddenly Rod noticed the entire ballroom was
almost deserted. Most had left, having drifted home to
bed but not to sleep, he suspected. In a few corners
couples were making out, but it wasn't a few bared
breasts and hiked skirts Sabah wanted to show her mate.
Giggling softly she tugged him toward a lounge area.
To his shock Rod saw Melanie's entire set of friends -
but never like this! Agatha Chriswell was on her back,
her heals in the air, mewing and humping as the pudgy
Raymond Chriswell was fucking her like there was no
tomorrow. "Yes, Ray baby hard! I need it!... Harder...
HARDER!"
Grace Witherspoon was also on her back, but was not so
happy. With both hands she had a death grip on the head
of a - Rod was pretty sure it was Arthur Witherspoon
-- between her legs as she complained. "Keep it up, you
bastard! <grunt>. Oh, yes, like that. Work that tongue,
damn you! I need to get FUCKED, dammit. Uuuuh shit, how
much longer 'til that god-damned Viagra kicks in?"
Marjory Simms had no such problems. The too-thin red-head
was fully on board the cock of a grunting, heaving black
man that Rod recognized as the trombone player from the
band. "Oh, yeah baby. Give me more of that cock, you
animal! <gasp> Ooohhhhh, YES! So fucking BIG...
Uhhhhngggg... like that, right up in there where mamma's
pussy NEEDS it! <pant> I'm taking you home, honey. You're
gonna make me c...Aaaaiiiiieee!" the bouncing woman
squealed as she climaxed.
Darlene Gresham wasn't saying much; how could she? On her
knees, her face was in the crotch of an astounded waiter,
sucking him as if it was her first drink after crossing
the Sahara. Meanwhile, a very exercised Rutherford
Gresham had his hands on Darlene's upturned ass and was
pounding away vehemently at his wife's gushing pussy,
making her groan with each thrust.
"Take THAT, you bitch for never wearing miniskirts and
heels as I wanted you to, and THAT for always turning the
lights out!" he spat as he slammed into her again. "And
THAT for only doing it on weekends!" Rutherford was
obviously releasing a lot of long pent-up frustrations.
"And THAT." Rod winced at the force with which the
seemingly mild-mannered accountant was ramming his prick
into his whimpering wife's dripping cunt. "THAT's for
never letting me kiss and suck on those COW of yours
and THAT," Rod was afraid he was going to injure the
woman, "Is for never letting me eat this FUCKING HOT
PUSSEEEEEYYY!"
Sabah tugged Rod's hand again to depart the mini-orgy. He
took a step toward the exit, but Sabah smiled and
motioned with her head back toward the ballroom. There on
the table where she had sat, was Melanie, moaning with
arousal, her knees bent and her drenched open to
Charles rampant prick. Her husband was teasing her,
brushing her lips, giving her tiny pokes that made
her squirm, running his rather impressive member up and
down his writhing wife's slit. They appeared to be
renegotiating their relationship.
"Yes, Charles, anything, baby! Just fuck me. ... God, I
need it so bad. No, I'll never refuse you again, promise,
I promise! Huh? No, not that!" Charles seemed to slow his
attack. "No, Charles! Please, baby, don't stop now. I
need to be FUUUCKED! All right, yes, Yes YES! Fuck me and
you can make me pregnant. What? Noooo ... oooh ...Yes!
Two, three, anything darling, as many babies as you want.
Keep me pregnant all the time, but FUUUK MEEEiiiiiieee!"
"Let's go, Love," Sabah almost growled. "I'm hungry!"
Perhaps she had planned it all along or perhaps the orgy
she had orchestrated triggered it, but Rod saw that Sabah
was about to Feed. "Hurry, darling! Get me home."
Sabah had been wild in the car, insisting that she drove
so Rod could use the front slit of her gown to eat her.
The car swayed each time he brought her to orgasm and he
prayed she would slow down. They arrived in record time
and alive, fortunately. Sabah had almost torn off her
clothes and his, getting him in bed. There was nothing
slow and romantic about THIS Feeding. Sabah TOOK him.
Screaming with passion she threw herself down on his cock
over and over. The sexual frenzy of her Feeding
communicated itself to Rod who humped back with almost
superhuman stamina. The scene appeared that of a she lion
devouring a gazelle, except this prey was larger than the
predator and it was doing everything possible to BE
devoured. Rod had blacked out at the height of their
simultaneous orgasm.
*****
Yes, that had been one of the best ones, Rod mused,
waiting for Sabah to come in with breakfast -- she always
had a big breakfast for him the morning after a Feeding.
And enough time had passed for the results of Sabah's
prank to become evident. Within days of the ball, the
wardrobes of Agatha, Grace, Darlene, Marjory, and of
course Melanie had improved dramatically. The five women
organized a joint shopping trip to Tyson's Corner and
came back with two SUVs packed full of miniskirts, push-
up bras, almost-illegal blouses, fuck-me heels,
stockings, and an assortment of sleepwear guaranteed to
keep a husband, or in Marjory's case, a growing roster of
boyfriends, from sleeping. Arthur Witherspoon, Raymond
Chriswell, Rutherford Simms, and Charles Landsworth
couldn't believe their luck. Suddenly they had wives who
not only dressed like women during the day, they fucked
like minxes at night.
Grace, Agatha, and Darlene joined a local gym to loose a
few pounds. Summer was coming and they were licking their
lips at their husbands' reactions when they saw their
wives in string bikinis. Melanie joined, too, realizing
she needed strength training, as often as Charles was
fucking her. Marjory, on the other hand, wanted to put on
some weight. Her new fiancee, Jamal White, the Washington
Wizards' center forward, thought Marjory needed a few
more curves to complement her astounding libido.
The gym program hadn't lasted long, Rod chuckled, or at
least the exercise regime soon had to be changed. One by
one over the last month or so, each woman had started
showing off some very sexy new maternity dresses.
To be continued...
Comments please to:
Homer Vargas
vargas111@Yahoo.com