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 Simone's Travels 4 Rabat Towncenter

   The following day after work, Salma Doori dismounted her rented scooter
in a sparse area of the industrial Kasbah.  Salma wore a green hajib and
when she looked up from her saddlebag on the scooter four Moroccan men
walked toward her holding automatic weapons.  Three carried AK-47s, but one
held a belt fed PKM machinegun with bandoliers of ammo around his neck. 
The men wore dirty kandura or dishdash robes and leather sandals.

   The men strolled casually as they led her behind an abandoned open ended
mechanics work bay.  The taller man carrying an AK shoved her playfully
making her spin and face away from him.  He slung his arrival over the
machine gunner's left shoulder and began to body search her no longer being
playful.

   During the brief pat-down the insurgent took several liberties under her
hajib, raking his fingers over her nipples.  Finally, even inserting his
middle finger into her over-pantie waist band to worm down into her cotton
western style panties.  Arab women often wore the over-pantie out of
caution when traveling away from their homes to avoid offending Muslim
sharia sensibilities.  Then the man's right middle finger sluiced through
her full black pubic bush, that felt lush and curly, several silky tendrils
escaping from her pantie leg holes.

   Salma knew not to resist.  Despite her alliance with the insurgents, she
knew they could be brutal with an Arab woman who they disliked simply for
daring to exist in the world of the European infidels.  The bright young
woman also tingled mildly from the rough treatment.  Salma was a woman who
had experienced fleshly pleasures for at least the past eight years of her
life.

   They ushered her onto a small minivan that seated six and headed away
from the industrial area four to five miles out past the dunes.  Salma
Doori was one of the few Arab spies allowed to report in person to Fehmi
Sharma a dangerous insurgent leader.

   The tall insurgent, well over 6 foot was handsome in an Omar Sharif way.
However, with a beard reminiscent of the Saudi terrorist who would become
famous thirty years later, Osama Bin Laden.  His close set dark eyes raked
over Salma as she entered an adobe flat he used for meetings, one of
several he had scattered from Rabat back to the eastern border with
Algeria.

   Seated on worn velvet cushions on a loveseat style couch, a 9mm Soviet
Makarov pistol perched on his lap, he toked on a simmering hookah pipe as
he addressed Salma.

   "Salam ah-Lekkum, what do you have for me sister Doori?" he asked evenly
and without visible emotion but Sharma was under great pressure to produce
results.

   Sharma's group of insurgents were part of the separatist group
attempting to overthrow the monarchy but also being tasked by their backers
in Lebanon and Syria to bloody the French patrons of the Moroccan royal
family.  His dislike of the French was equal to that of the monarchy.

   Salma with her breathing increasing slightly as she often did anytime
she was near Sharma, calmly unfolded a small bundle of papers she pulled
from her pocket.  She had reproduced by Xerox machine several sheets of
manifest for air cargo missions and sickcall schedules detailing when FFNA
would be undertaking medical missions to Legion Outposts in Morocco.

   Unwittingly, the careless administrative habits of Navarre had put
several aspects of his own mission and criminal activities at risk to
hostile forces.

   Sharma had a good recruitment period and his ranks were flush with foot
soldiers.  Many recently trained in the PLO camps of the Bekaa Valley in
eastern Lebanon.  The region in a fertile valley has sheltered bandits and
armies since biblical days.  His Syrian backers had kept the cash and drugs
flowing to fund his efforts across northeast Morocco.  Now if he could just
pull off a big hit.

   The insurgent leader then dismissed the one lone body guard in the
office of his hideout and instructed Salma to pour them both a cup of tea
from a boiler plate behind his desk.  As he stood to walk over and latch
the door he smiled briefly.  He loved this part of when his female spies
came to report in.

   Sharma had the nubile 25-year-old laid out on a pallet of silk blankets
and plush pillows.  Her arms were tethered loosely over her head to a
battered book armoire set to the side of a small desk as she lay naked, her
hijab removed and bundled by her side.  He himself was naked below the
waist as he kneeled between her Salma's outstretched legs.  More
well-endowed than the average Arab man, Sharma teased the hooded nub of
Salma's clit with his engorged 9-inch dick.

   Now the domineering insurgent leader drilled into his junior spy on a
rich glaze of her female sap as his hands steadily palmed the juicy
hind-cheeks of her ass.

   The young woman's cunt cream slathered along the stalk of his cock and
collected the dark profuse hairs of her labia for despite her fears she was
eagerly excited to be submitting to him.

   There was no semblance of affection or intimacy where his seduction of
his female spies was concerned.  Sharma simply exploited them or their
families, ensnaring them into his web of servitude and violent insurgency.
The lucky ones only had to provide supply and logistics.  The less
fortunate were sexual playthings for him and his troops.  In a Library
alcove at Sisters of the Sacred Arch, mid-December 1954

   The grayish metal of the desktop lid was decorated with a half-dozen
gobs, streaks, and droplets of whitish fluid.  Aimee Dupont sniffed the
cock-juice, immediately dizzy from the scent of it.  She dipped her finger
into a puddle of cum and was disappointed to find that the stuff had
already cooled.  It was still thick, though, slimy and sticky.  She brought
her dripping finger to her lips and licked off the cum.

   The male lower form classmate she had extracted the juicy load of jizz
from departed the alcove after he had enticed Aimee to get him off during
their afternoon study period.  Delicious!  She closed her eyes and savored
the sweet, peppery taste of it.  It was the same taste she remembered, the
same taste as with her uncle, the Abbot and of course Father Leclerc.

   Aimee's heart rate increased as she playfully doodled her fingers in the
spilled jizz.  Her nipples prickled in her modest spongy white bra as she
stood with her legs akimbo eager now to rub her herself off.  She was antsy
after having allowed the boy to finger her juicy pussy as a prelude to her
jerking him off.

   Preoccupied rolling her panties down below her thighs she did not hear
Sister Inez slowly descending the short flight of stairs to the alcove.

   Being careful not to let any part of her white blouse or black vest dip
into the cum, she leaned over the desk and began to lick up the boy's
spilled jizz as she sluiced one finger into her simmering cunt.  When Aimee
withdrew her finger, it was glazed with a rich smear of her girl cream.

   She smacked her lips, slurped, the thick cum sticking to her lips,
dripping from her tongue.  She grinned and cooed as she sucked up the boy's
fresh jizz, and licked her finger.  She was giddy enough to almost giggle
out loud.

   Aimee was aware that if somebody caught her doing this they would surely
call her to Office for discipline.  But her awareness of her lewd behavior
failed to deter her.  It made her cunt tingle and leak more juice.

   Sister Inez was one of those stern-faced, hardened nuns.  She was by no
means old-probably about thirty-two-and not even bad-looking.  In fact,
when Sister Inez smiled, out of kindness rather than out of scorn, she
could look downright glamorous a sort of French Ava Gardner.  At the same
time, all the students at Sacred Arch had seen Inez glare menacingly at
students then caress and kiss an upset female student or one of the younger
nuns.

   Aimee's panties were damply wound about her lower thighs as they had
been pulled up like a sopping-wet gag between her legs in class before the
study period.  The heat and itchy sensations throbbed madly in her cunt. 
She rubbed her legs together furiously, well on her way to her own orgasm
as she finger-fucked herself.  Only a few more seconds.  Only a few-.

   "You animal!" shrieked the voice.  "You beast, down here with a male!"
It was Sister Inez as her left foot hit the floor of the alcove.  She had
passed the disheveled male student on a quiet row of the library and
decided to come investigate in the direction the boy had come from.  Aimee
looked up into the enraged face of Sister Inez.  The cover of the thick
book she clutched in her two hands almost matched the color of her face
scarlet.

   "You're a disgrace, a disgrace to your class, a disgrace to the school,
a disgrace to womanhood and human decency.  Get up and go to my office."

   When the girl did not move fast enough, the statuesque brunette nun
yelled, "Didn't I tell you to get up to my office, you little bitch? 
Didn't I, huh, didn't I?" She swatted Aimee wickedly on the butt with her
open right palm.

   The girl whisked her panties up over her smarting ass cheeks and
scrambled up the stair steps on her hands and knees.

   Sister Inez slammed the office door closed and locked it, surprising
Aimee even more.  Then she strode across the library office and yanked shut
the heavy red curtains of her window.  All daylight was shut out, hiding
the light coating of snow which crusted the ground, so she switched on the
overhead lights.  "Get undressed you need punishment."

   "He forced me," Aimee lied meekly as she stripped.  She was soon naked
except for her panties, and the aroma of her dripping cunt filled the small
room.

   Sister Inez's nostrils flared.  "He forced you, huh?  Then why are you
running like a river between the legs?  He might have forced you, but you
loved it, didn't you?  Don't think I haven't had my eye on you all term,
and your friend Simone Moreau.  Seen how you two flirt with students and
the Abbots."

   Sister Inez began removing her cowl and outer garments, very soon she
was down to a lacy matching set of black bra and panties with black
knee-high wool stockings further shocking the girl.

   "If you don't have those panties off in a thrice I am going to tie you
to that desk and whip your ass not just spank it."

   Aimee pushed down her panties, then leaned over to step out of them. 
They were almost completely drenched with her hot girl-juice.  She was
slick all the way down to the mid-thigh, and she used her already-sopping
panties to attempt to mop the juices off her inner thighs.  She only
succeeded in smearing her girl sap on her flesh further exciting her and
Sister Inez as well.

   Sister Inez stood back up, her entire body flushed a rosy color,
circling her desk she retrieved a worn length of pink satin ribbon and a
bedroom slipper from the desk drawer.  As she moved gracefully around the
desk she flashed brief glimpses of her juicy dark pubic tendrils escaping
from the crotch piece of her black panties.

   Out of her nun's habit, Sister Inez was larger than the average woman,
with a voluptuous shape and melon-sized tits.  Her purple areolas were
larger than silver dollars, studded with sexy bumps, and crowned with
fingertip-sized nipples.

   "Give me those," Sister Inez said, holding out her arm.  "Wha--t What?"
Aimee faltered out softly.

   "Don't act dumb girl.  Give me those panties." Aimee handed the bossy
woman her drenched panties.

   Sister Inez worked the wadded-up panties in her right hand.  "Lord, you
are a wet one, aren't you?" She shoved the panties to her nose and inhaled.
"Oh, my Lord!" Her gray eyes rolled sensually.

   Sister Inez began to rub the panties all over her face, coating her skin
with a sheen of Aimee's pussyjuice.  She used the panties as if they were a
washcloth, rubbing them down her neck, over her tits and areolas.  Her
nipples gleamed with the sixteen-year-old's girl sap.

   "Did you take the boy between your legs Dupont?  Sister Inez growled
anger and excitement both flashing across her stern mature but attractive
face.

   "No Sister...I swear I...only played with him by hand!" Aimee rasped out
her eyes flashing around as the Sister moved behind her holding the ribbons
and slipper.  The girl was so stunned at what was happening that she could
hardly move.

   "Kneel up there on my desk on your hands and knees...quickly." Sister
Inez ordered.

   "Sister Inez...please!" Aimee begged as she stepped forward and draped
her right knee first onto the desk exposing her lush pussy to the Sister's
intense eyes as.

   "Reach between my legs," Sister Inez said as she stood behind the girl
but within arms reach of her.  "Feel my juices and erase the filth and
stench of that boy from your hands."

   Aimee reached down and back thrusting her right-hand against the burning
crotch of the stern librarian-teacher.  It was like grabbing a hairy sponge
even through the lace of the panties.  Sister Inez's hot pussyjuice fused
onto her palm through the lacy garment.

   "Go on, wash.  Spread my cuntal ooze on your hands and fingers.  Then
lick your hands clean."

   Aimee shivered as she looked back disbelievingly..." Sister you
...surely don't mean this." She babbled out softly.  She lifted her hand
and rubbed Sister Inez's hot juices over her face and the outside of her
thighs.

   "Now lick it off," Sister Inez said.  "Wash out your mouth you little
strumpet."

   Aimee didn't wait to be told a second time.  She licked and sucked the
warm juice off her hand as if it were melted butter.  She no longer held
her breath, and the aroma of the older woman's cunt flooded her senses. 
The flavor was tart and musky.

   The nun quickly tied Aimee's hands behind her back and shoved her
shoulder down putting her in a dog style position.  "Such a lovely bitch
ass," Sister Inez muttered.  "Simply gorgeous.  Your well-fed same as
Moreau." The nun bitterly envied the spoiled middle class girls of post war
France.  She tickled Aimee's starburst of an asspucker with her fingernail
sensually.

   Aimee was scared and kneeling naked in the dog-fuck position, and Sister
Inez was playing with her ass.  A new trickle of hot sap bubbled down the
inside of her left thigh.

   Sister Inez bent at the waist, whispered, "Oh, fuck!" Hauling apart
Aimee's cunt lips with her sharp-clawed fingers, she shoved her nose and
lips between them, immediately sucking, slurping, munching.  Turning them
both on wildly.

   "Uh!" Aimee gasped.  "Oh, oh!" She arched her back, turning up her ass,
peering over her left shoulder.  Itchy thrills bolted through her loins.

   Sister Inez's tongue wriggled into her pussy.  "Mmmmm, mmm, mmm!" Sister
Inez moaned, her tongue twisting, darting, even catching one or two small
pussy hairs in her teeth.

   Aimee felt needles of fire flood her loins.  Her cunt tightened,
squeezing out juice which Sister Inez greedily slurped up.

   "My Lord, so much, so delicious!" The nun whispered.  She munched
Aimee's pussy as if she were going to devour it.  Her teeth sliced again
and again into the spongy, swollen black-haired cunt.  Inez was a pussy
eater from way back she had constantly been on the prowl for girl-girl love
even as a teen back in Marseilles before ever joining the nunnery.

   "Eat it!" the 16-year-old whispered, her eyes glazed with pleasure. 
"Oh, eat it!" She felt the fuck-thrills all over, felt them like lips
sucking her nipples and toes.  It was deliciously arousing.  It was even
better than when she had spent hours in hot lesbian tryst with Simone and
Sister Suzanne.

   "Juicy little bitch!" Sister Inez muttered.  "Shoulda got my hands on
you months ago-before the male pigs defiled you." Now she wanted to exact
some revenge.

   Reaching down for the worn slipper she stepped forward, weighing Aimee's
juicy ass cheeks which were a soft downy white with nice rich dimples on
each side.  Suddenly the girl heard a whir and then-.

   "Whaaap!" The right cheek literally jumped away from its twin.  "Whaack"
The second blow rained in on the juicy meat of the girl's ass.  Her feet
twisted in her little two inch heels.  After the fifth smack of the slipper
her head came up in a frown as she stared a head, her eyes misting with
tears.

   The sixth landed home, "Whillck!" and a purple welt formed on the right
cheek making the girl shake her head from side to side.

   "Ooouch!  Aimee groaned in a childish tone.  The Librarian nun gave her
two more quickly on the left cheek.  "Haaaa!" and flecks of saliva shot
from her lips as her head jerked up with the grimace of pain on her face.

   "Your turn, dearie," Sister Inez said.  "Get on your back on that little
sofa in the corner.  Your turn to eat my juicy pussy." Her sodden trench
was lathered with spicy woman sap.

   Aimee could not believe the turn of events as her hands were freed and
she was gently marched to the sofa.  Her protest wasn't even sincere in her
own mind.  "Sister...why...what...?  You can't mean for me..."

   Sister Inez slid up and sat on the prone girl's chest.  Then she mashed
her throbbing, gushing cunt against Aimee's mouth, and the girl gagged as
the hot, tart pussyjuice ran down her throat.  The nun had recently visited
the staff bathroom to piss and her cunt was richly misted with droplets of
her hot foaming pee.

   The nun shivered giddily at the thought and sensation of the girl
collecting a tinge of salty briny piss by proxy as she ate her pussy.

   She ground her cunt like a fist into Aimee's mouth, catching her kinky
cunt-hairs in the girl's teeth, humping her spasming loins against her
face. Hot juicy woman sap overflowed Aimee's mouth to the point she could
not keep up.  Some trickling down her neck, pasting her hair to her scalp
and shoulders.

   Aimee worried now about how she would look and act when the nun finally
released her.  To be continued -