Narisa 1

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 4

As Narisa and I walked the few steps from the living room to what would now become our bedroom, she began to tremble. I gently gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze as I opened the bedroom door.

She gave a sudden start when I opened the door and she saw the bed. I gently led her inside, closed the door and we came to stop next to the bed near the bathroom doorway. She stopped, turned and looked up at me with questioning, tearful eyes when I remembered something I’d forgotten.

I snapped my fingers as one does when they realize they’ve forgotten something, turned and left my puzzled bride standing alone in the room. When I suddenly reappeared in the hall, Mom asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Forgot some towels.” and quickly grabbed three out of the closet. “Where are your hair dryer and a brush?” I asked hurriedly.

‘On my dresser.”

I scrambled to my parents room, grabbed what I needed and quickly scooted back to my perplexed little wife. I startled her when I rushed through the door panting from my hurried search.

She looked at me quizzically then nodded as I held up the towels, hair dryer and brush. I smiled at her and taking her hand led her to the bathroom. I closed the lid on the toilet, motioned for her to sit and set the towels down on the sink.

Narisa sat warily as I began to draw her bath. By the look on her face, I think she was expecting that I might undress and bathe her and she started to look really uncomfortable. I motioned for her to test the water temperature with her hand and as she did, she nodded that it was okay.

I showed her the soap and shampoo, making motions that simulated washing my hair and pointed to the bottle. She nodded her understanding and I showed her the conditioner and made gestures that showed removing tangles from hair and she nodded again. When I thought she had everything she needed, I rose, smiled and touched her cheek with my hand and she looked up with a relieved smile. I walked to the bathroom door and smiled back again as I shut the door to let her bathe in private.

I went back out to the living room and plopped down in the chair. My parents looked at me then each other and then back at me again totally clueless. I felt their eyes on me and looked at them both and asked, “What?”

“Why are you out here?” my dad asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

“So far I guess. I’m just letting the little woman take a bath. Why?”

They both looked at each other as if to say, “That sounds logical.”

“You usually bathe after the big event.” Dad quipped with a smirk.

“Steven!” Mom scolded as she slapped his arm.

“Well,” I replied, “to be honest, Dad, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I was going to dry and brush her hair and after that… well, I don’t have a freakin’ clue! I’ll just play it by ear and see how she reacts. I think she’s really scared: on the verge of terrified and to tell the truth, so am I. You were right, Dad: us guys really don’t know what to do with a girl when we get one. I’m scared and I know she’s scared so I think I’ll just try to be her friend, then her boyfriend in slow easy stages then we can work our way up to the good stuff together when we’re both comfortable with each other. She’s already been stripped naked and terrorized in the past couple of days and I really want her to know I won’t hurt or take advantage of her: that I’ll protect her. Isn’t that what a husband’s supposed to do?”

Mom eyes welled up and nodded while Dad nodded saying, “You make us proud, Son. That sounds like an excellent plan to me.”

“By the way,” I asked contemplatively, “what does the name Narisa mean?”

Mom smiled and answered, “It means exquisite. A fitting name don’t you think?”

“She’s so beautiful she takes my breath away, but she’s so darn tiny! Every time I look at her I forget she’s thirteen: she looks ten or eleven.”

At this point, some may think I’m acting like an unrealistically naïve, stupid teenage-boy when it comes to girls and sex, but I’m not. Most guys talk a lot about girls and sex but that’s all it is: just talk. We stammer when talking to a girl we find interesting, and young couples struggle through those first fledgling steps to hold hands, for their first kiss and embrace and finally the awkward fumbling, sometimes hurtful mistakes of our first sexual encounters.

In my situation, I was now married to a girl and she was my responsibility. First of all, all I’d ever done was make out. Attempting to cop a feel driven by raging hormonal moments, not thinking of the responsibility of one’s actions, marriage or even the next thirty minutes is totally different when you realize that your wife is someone that is depending on you to treat her above all others in the world for a lifetime. I was terrified of what lay ahead: not just the sex or sleeping together, but what we’d been through and survived. Would she be so terrified by all this that she just can’t be a wife right now: just a scarred, terrified little girl?

We heard the water stop running in the shower so I waited a couple of minutes before going to her. As I rose to leave I said, “Well here goes, wish me luck.”

_______________________

Looking back on this moment, I can put it all in perspective, but at the time, I felt so torn with mixed emotions that I was suddenly filled with guilt. Let me explain. Have you ever felt diametrically opposing thoughts and emotions at the same time? Almost like you’ve got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other and they’re both shouting to you at the same time. Your reasoning brain, the one that feels love, emotion, caring, concern, empathy and all the other emotions related to the higher brain as it expresses all these “higher” emotions while the lower brain, the one that thinks with the “little head” is talking to you at the same time. Here’s what I mean…

When I entered the bedroom and closed the door, Narisa was standing by the bed with just a towel wrapped around her. She had a look of sheer fright in her eyes. I stood frozen in the doorway silent, just looking at her for fear of moving and scaring her even more. She, probably thinking that I was expectantly waiting for the unveiling, tentatively turned around with her back to me and slowly dropped her towel to her feet.

She placed her left hand down between her legs to cover her groin and her right hand went across her chest. She then looked back at me over her shoulder and she was literally pleading with me with her eyes and tears pouring down her cheeks.

All of a sudden, I was struck with a shocking jolt of déjà vu as I remembered seeing her in this same exact position just days before encircled by a group of taunting men who had humiliated her right before trying to execute her.

At the same time, the little head was telling my brain, Oh my God! She’s the most stunning and beautiful creature I’ve ever seen! Those huge brilliant blue expressive eyes; her long, black curly hair was wet and hanging over her slender shoulder showing a small shell-like ear and her naked form just caused a hot flash to come over me as my eyes were drawn, riveted to her beautiful firm little butt. Her feet were so tiny and her legs were shapely with nicely tapered slender thighs. She was a miniature goddess! And… she was my wife!!!!

All these conflicting thoughts scrambled my brain in those five or ten seconds we stood there frozen in time. I was suddenly snapped back to reality when I had a sudden and sick feeling of guilt for having thoughts of her that way when she was so vulnerable and terrified at this same moment in time.

As I stared at her, I could see several cuts where she’s been struck with stones and she had a painful looking bruise on her right shoulder and one on her lower back right above her left hip. The memories of that fateful day came suddenly flooding back to me.

I saw her dirty clothes on the floor near the chair and a light bulb went off in my head when it dawned on me that she had no clean clothes to put on. I put my finger to my mouth making the universal sign to be calm. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a Patriots T-shirt and slowly walked towards her. When I’d stopped directly behind her, she hunched over sobbing so that I couldn’t look over her shoulder and view her nakedness then looked up at me over her left shoulder in raw fear. I smiled gently and stroked her cheek then kissed her left temple. I bunched up the T-shirt and pulled it over her head then down over her body encasing her arms inside. The T-shirt came down and barely covered her dainty little derriere. Grabbing the sleeves and shaking them gesturing for her to put her arms through the sleeves, she slowly complied one arm at a time. As she pushed her arms through the sleeves I gently bunched up her hair in my hands and pulled it out of the neck hole of the shirt.

I went into the bathroom looking for her panties, returned to the bedroom next to the chair and picked up her soiled abaya to check underneath but there were none: they must have just dressed her in just an abaya and hajib for the trial with nothing underneath. She’d stopped crying and was following my every move with her eyes as she wiped her cheeks with her hands and a slightly calmer look on her face.

Remaining with her back to me still covering her sex with her left hand, she followed me with her eyes as I went to the dresser and retrieved a pair of my boxer shorts. I returned to stand directly behind her and knelt down putting my arms around to the front of her legs and stretched the pair of boxers open for her to step into.

Once again, the little head took over when I realized my face was right next to her naked, gorgeous little hiney and when I momentarily glanced at the sight I saw two smooth, hairless labia peeking at me from between her legs right under her derriere. I shook that lusty thought with a quick, mental slap to the face and nudged her on the leg for her to step into the underwear. She daintily pointed her toes as she put her left foot into the garment followed by her right. When she’d finished stepping into them, I slowly pulled them up her legs and under the T-shirt.

When the waistband reached her tiny waist, I let go and dropped my hands. We both laughed when we both realized that her waist was so tiny, they started to fall to the floor. In an effort to preserve her modesty, I stopped them from falling by inadvertently putting my right hand directly on her left butt cheek. I looked up embarrassed and she smiled down and blushed.

“Mom!!!”

I don’t know what Mom thought because when the door flew open and she rushed in like someone was dying. I was still on my knees with my hand on my wife’s tiny, shapely derriere looking like the kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What??? Oh my!”

“It’s not what you think, Mom! Narisa doesn’t have any panties! Could she possibly fit into a pair of yours for tonight? Oh, and get me a safety pin also,” I blurted out.

“Sure.” she joked in relief, “anything for the newlyweds.” She turned and left to retrieve the items.

Narisa had now taken hold of the shorts and giggled as I sat up on the bed. Mom was having some fun with this because when she returned, she handed me the panties between thumb and forefinger along with the pin and smiled. As she was turning to leave, she winked at Narisa and started for the door when I stopped her saying, “Oh, and her abaya: it’s soiled, remember?” She leaned over nodding, picked up the dirty garment and left closing the door gently behind her with a click

Embarrassed and blushing, I just handed Narisa the panties without looking at her and motioned for the bathroom. She giggled and scampered into the bathroom and shut the door. Moments later she returned and handed me the shorts with a shy smile.

I wanted her to feel more comfortable so I knelt and again opened the shorts for her to step into. Knowing her treasure was covered she smiled, put her hand on my shoulder and gracefully stepped into them one foot at a time. When I began to pull them up, she lifted the T-shirt to show me her panty-clad vulva: and a beautiful pink-laced, panty-clad vulva it was!

Of course you dork! Any panty-clad, thirteen-year-old vulva is beautiful! Besides, it’s the only one you’ve ever seen!

I bunched up the waistband enough to hold them up comfortably yet loose enough for her to pull them down and pinned it to fit her waist.

I know a Boston Patriots T-shirt and a pair of alligator boxers isn’t what you’d call the perfect wedding trousseau, but she probably thought they were as good as a Victoria Secret’s silk negligee.

The little head spoke again when I looked up and saw the tiny sharp points of her puffy little nipples poking straight out of her T-shirt.

God, the Patriots never looked that good!

She saw me looking at her proud, pretty little buds, giggled and blushed. I blushed also as I stood and turned to hide my growing appreciation for my petite bride’s charms.

I gentlemanly excused myself and scooted into the bathroom and quickly shut the door with a “Whew!”

I was trying to get my woody under control when Hasan’s words came naughtily zipping into my head. Ah, to be between the slender thighs of a dark haired, doe-eyed nubile Iranian girl…

“Stop it!” I scolded myself as I painfully squeezed my erection. I started the water in the sink, grabbed the washcloth and wrung it out in the cold water. I dropped my drawers and wrapped up my “problem” and gasped at the temperature shock. Once my woody had turned to sawdust, I pulled up my shorts and splashed my face with cold water trying to return to my giggling bride looking calm, cool and un-erected. When I’d dried my face, I still looked a little flush but figured that it was time to face the little woman; otherwise she probably thought I took my problem “in hand”. Well I did… sort of.

I opened the door and entered the bedroom trying to look as cool as the Fonz and she was standing by the bed where I’d left her with her hands at her sides fumbling with the tail of her shirt. I started to get in bed but then realized I was still dressed. She giggled when she realized I was just as scared as she was and was about to get in bed fully clothed.

All right, so I’m not the Fonz.

I went to the chair, unbuttoned my shirt and gingerly removed it. She gasped when I turned to lay it over the chair and she saw the stripes on my back. I kicked off my shoes and leaned against the chair as I took off my socks. I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants and with a sigh, dropped them to the floor. I laid the jeans in the chair and turned to look at her standing only in my boxers. With a hand covered smile she blushed then covered her eyes.

Well, I thought, tonight is the first night of our lives…

I walked towards her side of the bed, bent and pulled back the duvet on her side of the bed and motioned for her to lie down. She sat down and slowly pulled her legs up underneath the covers and laid down on her back looking up at me but now, with a calm, but apprehensive smile. I covered her and walked to the other side and climbed in.

Oops, her hair is still wet, you hormonally charged idiot!

I got out of bed (again) and she quizzically looked at me like “What’s this nut gonna do now?”

I grabbed her hand as I pulled the covers back down and motioned for her to get up. I retrieved the brush and hair dryer and held them up and she nodded. She got up, sat on the edge of the bed and turned with one leg under her and the other dangling off the side of the bed.

I turned on the dryer and began to brush her hair as the hot air whipped her hair in a windblown acrobatic dance. After about ten minutes her hair was reasonably dry and I shut off the hair dryer and just began to slowly run the brush through her curly, shimmering tresses. I played with her hair as I ran the brush and my fingers through her soft hair and she relaxed and reveled in the attention.

When I’d finished, I motioned for her to lie back down and she responded slowly but calmly by lying down on her back and followed me with her eyes as I again went to the other side of the bed. I climbed in (for the last time, I hoped) laying on my right side because of my back and we just looked at each other as if to simultaneously ponder what now?

Darn! The light is still on you dufus!

I reached across her body and looked into her eyes as I fumbled for the light switch on the lamp. I don’t know why, but I felt a sudden, warm feeling of affection for her and bent down and gave her a soft, closed-mouth kiss on the lips that lasted for several seconds. We looked into each other’s eyes during this, our first kiss and hers were wide with surprise but she didn’t pull away. When I broke the kiss we both blushed and smiled at each other as I turned out the light.

We lay there in deafening silence for several minutes: her on her back with her hands fumbling at her sides and me on my right side with my right hand under the pillow and my left hand resting on my hip. I could feel the softness of her lower leg against mine and the velvety smoothness of her tiny foot.

We suddenly seemed to be of one heart and mind when the terrible events of the past five days came flooding back. Five days ago, we each were living separate lives not knowing the other existed. Because of Fate or perhaps the will of God, we were brought together by a sudden violent act, arrested, jailed and sentenced to death only to now be lying here together, miraculously alive and married to one another. We knew nothing of the other except each other’s name and now, having made a lifelong commitment to each other to share each other’s future, we both lay here contemplating the same events!

Having come to the realization that we’d come to death’s doorstep only to be drawn back to continue living changes a person’s life forever. Everything seems so much more precious, our decisions and actions having more meaning and are more focused and thought out. The impetuousness of youth with which we lived our carefree lives, sometimes oblivious of the dangers around the corner was now a thing of the past. Every step we took from this day forward would have to be together, each knowing that any actions or decisions we made would directly affect our mate.

Narisa started crying and reached up to my hip and taking my hand in hers squeezed it as we sobbed together. I let go of her hand and she laid it down on my hip as I reached up and tenderly stroked her cheek. I gently wiped away her tears with my thumb and whispered, “Shushhhh, it’s okay now.”

I leaned over and gently kissed her cheek and she nodded she understood and her crying diminished to sniffled weeping. When she was relatively calm, I gently nudged her left shoulder, motioning her to turn onto her right side. Silently she responded and I spooned up against her and she reached for my hand and holding it firmly clutched it to her chest. I gave her a reassuring hug and she relaxed in my arms in response.

I just held her in silence as we struggled to go to sleep. I began to think about how we were ever going to make this work? In her culture and faith, she had committed herself to me of her own volition and simply by allowing me to see her nudity and lying with me constituted consummation of her wedding vows. In her eyes and the eyes of other Muslims she was a married woman in name and deed. If we divorced in the U.S., what would her fate be as a minor in a foreign country, divorced and all alone?

Hell, we couldn’t even communicate with each other except through gestures. How would we get to know each other; plan our lives, discuss our desires, feelings and fears? How could we even say the simplest of things like “Good Morning,” “Are you hungry” or “Let’s take a walk”? How will we ever go about expressing those heartfelt endearments boyfriends and girlfriends express that have even more meaning for spouses like “I missed you,” or “I was thinking about you” and the all important “I love you”?

I knew in my heart that I felt something very deep and gentle for this girl in my arms. Is this the beginnings of love? I know for certain it’s different ― way different from what I felt for Nicole. It’s deeper, more moving and affected me to my core. It’s quiet, gentle and protective; this feeling made me want to put her welfare first — no, compelled me to think of her first and it was suddenly like second nature. She’s put her life and future in my hands and with a child-like faith hoping that I’d take care of her and fulfill those childhood dreams of finding a man that would love, cherish and protect her for life. Then again, I didn’t really know what she actually felt.

As I lay thinking, I felt Narisa’s grip on my hand relax as she held it to her chest and I felt her breathing slow as her chest began the slow, gentle expansion and contraction as slumber overtook her.

As I lay there awake, I heard the click of the doorknob and the sliver of light widened as the bedroom door slowly opened. I didn’t move but glanced to see my parents looking in on us and heard Mom whisper to Dad, “Aw, look they’re sleeping. Maybe, just maybe they’ll be okay after all.”

“God only knows,” my father whispered back. “I truly hope so too.”

_________________________

I awoke about six am and we were both in the same position we’d fallen asleep in. Her gently clutching my hand to her chest with me spooned up against her back, but with one “big” difference. My now fully engorged morning woody was neatly wedged between her dainty little butt cheeks. I decided to pretend it wasn’t there and feigned being asleep. I think she awoke about the same time and when she felt me against her butt, she perceptively gasped and remained still. She slowly and tentatively pushed her butt back against my erection (giving me a tingle) and squeaked a little giggle confirming she knew what she was feeling.

Gently and quietly she moved my hand and slowly got out of bed. She went to the bathroom and after peeing and washing came in, knelt and quietly began her morning prayers.

She knelt on the floor with her right side facing me as she rocked and whispered her invocations. I rose up and put my head in bent arm’s palm just to watch her pray. I felt an affinity to her and rose out of bed and knelt beside her. She momentarily stopped and looked at me with a gentle smile then returned to her prayers. I began to pray with her and after a few minutes rose, got my things and went to the bathroom for my morning shower, leaving her to finish her prayers in peace.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was sitting on the bed just looking at me. Not knowing what she was thinking, I shrugged as if to ask, “What?”

She blushed and grabbed the hem of the T-shirt and jostled it and looked at me through her lashes as if to say, “Is this what I’m wearing today?”

I nodded my understanding and left the bedroom in my boxers. Mom looked at me over her coffee cup from the table and asked, “Lose something?”

“No, just looking for Narisa’s dress. Did you wash it for her?”

Nodding, she pointed to the closet where it was hanging from a hook: I’d walked right past it. I snatched it from the hook and turned to leave saying over my shoulder, “Thanks, Ma.”

I walked into the bedroom smiling and handed the abaya to her as she stood to take it from my hand. She looked at me deciding whether to change where she stood or go to the bathroom. She glanced at the bathroom door and I nodded as I turned to get my clothes from the dresser. When she came out dressed and barefoot, I wiggled my finger to her with a smile to come sit down on the bed.

I picked up the brush and she got a sparkle in her eye and smiled knowing I was going to brush her hair. I played Vidal Sassoon as I brushed her hair this way and that, first parting it down the middle then at the side with a sweeping wave over her right eye. She giggled, made funny faces and fussed with her hands in her lap as I played with her hair. She started to get embarrassed by my antics and fell back lying on the bed with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I dropped the brush and grabbed both her tiny feet in my hands and she rose up on her elbows looking down to see what I was doing. I brought her feet to my nose and sniffed making a sour face and said “Phew!”

She smiled and wiggling her toes pushed them back into my face. I made playful monster-type growls and began licking her feet and toes. She broke out laughing as she squirmed on the bed to free herself from my tickling assault. I stopped my tickling and she rose up again panting from the exertion looking down at me with a smile. I kissed the tops of her feet and released them. I stood up and took her hand lifting her to her feet and we went out to face a new day.

Mom fixed us a breakfast of eggs and toast. Mom told Narisa that her socks weren’t worth saving and threw them away. She told us that after we went to the Swiss embassy, we would go shopping and buy her some new clothes. My little bride went bug-eyed with surprise on hearing this.

When we were ready to leave, I knocked on Hasan’s door and he opened it with smile and a wink. I jokingly threatened him saying, “Don’t even think it.”

He chuckled and nodded knowing what I meant. Dad grabbed the folder of papers he’d taken from Nazir and Hasan and Sharif brought the minibus around for us to leave.

We arrived at the Swiss embassy about ten am and after informing them who we were and asked to speak to the Consul for American Affairs, we were directed to Hans Fischer who was expecting us. After the introductions, he informed us that they were aware of some of the events that transpired and both they and the U.S. State Department were eager to expedite the handling of our case.

After Dad retold Mr. Fischer what Nazir had told him regarding the cause of this whole situation, how and why the Special Clerical Council and the Iranian government had become involved along with their unique “solution” of the matter, Mr. Fischer asked to see what documents we were provided with so far.

Narisa and I had to both make taped statements under oath of the events, as we each knew them. After four hours of discussion and testimony, Mr. Fischer told us we still needed to obtain a certified copy of Narisa’s birth certificate, her passport with exit permit and a notarized affidavit giving guardianship and power of attorney to one or both of my parents for Narisa from her parents. Even though she was a married adult here in Iran, in the U.S. she was still a minor as was I. Because our marriage was conducted by a court and recognized by the government of Iran, it was a legal marriage in the eyes of the Federal government under INS regulations. He did say that not knowing anything about individual state’s laws, it might not be recognized in Virginia without going through the courts because we were both under the age of consent: which Dad said was sixteen. Any marriage granted to minors below that age had to get special permission from the court.

The Iranian court had already furnished a copy of her police record and her conviction on prostitution and Mr. Fischer said that it posed no hindrance because of the publicized circumstances of the case. They also included a statement that included the terms of our conviction commutations with a letter stating that she would be issued a passport and an exit permit under the condition that neither of us returned to Iran. She would receive an INS physical and any shots needed here at the Swiss embassy.

He told us that he was in communication and working in conjunction with Stanley Wiseman, an Assistant Secretary of State to expedite matters. As soon as we had all the required documents, we were to return and have Narisa’s passport affixed with an emergency visa granting her political asylum based upon the threat of possible death or imprisonment from a hostile country.

He told us that today after we leave, he’d send all our information via encoded Teletype and our recorded testimonies via diplomatic courier to Washington to get things moving. He also informed us that more than likely, we would be met at the airport by members of the State Department because the press will be lying in wait when we arrive. They will help us handle the press and any statements so that nothing is said that could possibly cause any more of an international incident over this issue.

As we were getting ready to leave, Mr. Fischer warned us that this wasn’t over yet. If we couldn’t get her passport and birth certificate, it could seriously delay things. No one leaves Iran without either an exit permit or an entry/exit stamp. We thanked him for all his help and left, knowing what we needed to do. I asked Dad to give me our marriage license. I wasn’t about to have another run-in with the police if they stopped us thinking a young Muslim girl was acting like a prostitute and walking in public with young foreigner.

We went to lunch near a large shopping bazaar and after we ate, we went shopping for Narisa’s clothes. Mom and she picked out some underwear, socks and two sets of traditional garb: one in black and one in blue. They then bought some personal toiletries and feminine hygiene items along with a shower cap. She even got a new pair of sneakers. Mom secretly bought her several silk headscarves in case she decided to dress less traditionally in the U.S.

During our first day together outside as a couple, we seemed to be able to communicate with our eyes, facial expressions and hand gestures. It was as if we just knew what the other was “saying.”

As her and I were browsing over some trinkets looking for a hairbrush and hairpins, she was suddenly grabbed by a stern looking morality cop. I quickly showed him our marriage license and with a nasty scowl, he turned and walked away. Figuring we’d bought what we came for, we headed towards home. We decided to end the day out so we went to dinner at a restaurant close to home before ending our day. I could see the satisfaction in Narisa’s eyes and it made her feel really good to put that cop in his place.

When we arrived home, we said goodnight to our guides and went inside. Like all girls when they get new clothes, Narisa quickly ran to the bedroom with her bags. I just shrugged my shoulders at my parents and Mom chuckled and said, “She probably wants to model her new clothes for you.”

Sure enough, she emerged to model for me what she’d gotten even though they were traditional clothes: one black and one blue with a white hajib. Then she showed me the socks and put on her new sneakers as she watched Mom dump her old tattered and dirty ones in the trash.

After the excitement of the day had worn thin, we said goodnight and retired to our little retreat. She hurriedly padded to the bathroom with a bag in hand and with a giggle and shut the door. As I sat on the bed taking my shoes and socks off, the door sprang open and she stood in the doorway for a second, cocked her hip and pulled her abaya open just enough to flash me a pair of her new powder blue laced panties. She blushed, giggled and quickly went back inside only to return seconds later to briefly flash another pair to model. This display of wifely teasing repeated itself several more times until she’d exhausted her new wardrobe of panties.

She came out of the bathroom with a full pink flushed color as she blushed and walked past me to the chair. She picked up her T-shirt and boxers and glanced at me through her lashes as she padded back to the bathroom. I heard the shower start and just chuckled. Go figure… Mom had bought her several nightgowns but she wanted what I’d given her on our wedding night.

I was lying in bed in the same spot and position I was last night when she opened the door and came to bed. She was acting a little strange at first. She stood by the bed for several moments without moving looked at me. Without taking her eyes off of me she slowly pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, lying on her back like the previous night. She started to reach for the light, but quickly pulled her hand back and looked at me coyly.

I smiled when I thought to myself the language of love can surely be spoken without words. I made no pretense of turning off the light: I just leaned over and kissed her. She brought her right hand up and laid it against my chest as we kissed and she seemed to just melt.

I didn’t trust myself to stop if I got too worked up and I wasn’t sure what Narisa was ready for so I broke the kiss. She licked her lips dreamily and seeing she was agreeable, I kissed her again, this time pressing my tongue to swipe her lips. Her eyed opened wide with surprise then she relaxed and parted her mouth slightly. I licked the front of her teeth and withdrew and she followed in suit. I broke the kiss because I was getting hot rather quickly and didn’t want to do something I’d regret.

When I pulled back about six inches we were looking directly into each other’s eyes. She had a dreamy look in her eyes as she breathed audibly through her nose. I smiled at her and she smiled back as I bent and kissed her nose. She scrunched up her nose and giggled. God she’s got beautiful, brilliant, expressive eyes! I leaned over, turned out the light and like habit she turned onto her side. I spooned up against her and she took my hand and laid it on her right breast.

I couldn’t help myself — the devil made me do it, but I gave her tiny puffy nipple a gentle squeeze. She playfully slapped my hand and giggled and I returned the gesture with a kiss to her neck. It was a tender ending to a good first day as husband and wife and it wasn’t long before we both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

The following morning after breakfast, Mom, Dad and I had sort of a “heated discussion.” Narisa’s head just swiveled from one person to the other as we argued whether or not it was safe for just Narisa and me to go anywhere alone without my parents being with us. Maybe I just wanted make a show with the police, but consciously I just wanted to show off my wife. I kind of wanted to rub the fact that they forced us to marry, but now she was the light of my life. Anyway, my parents were a little leery but caved in to my demand and Hasan agreed to go and translate. And so off we went: an American teen with his tiny Persian Princess to the central police station. We definitely got some stares as we entered and stated our business. I showed them the documents from the court and they took Narisa’s photo when we applied for her passport. They instructed us to return in three days to pick up her passport and exit permit along with a certified copy of her birth certificate. We only had nine days left on our visas.

Hasan, Narisa and I left the central police station and went to Narisa’s home. My parents were supposed to arrive later. Her mother, Juwan and her brother, Rafi were excited to see her. Juwan said that Nazir, Narisa’s father was at the police station. She sent Rafi to fetch his father saying the station was about eight blocks from here.

When Rafi left, Narisa and her mom were talking in the kitchen while preparing refreshments for us and seemed to be talking privately. They’d forgotten about Hasan’s presence and seemed to be talking of things of the boudoir. Here’s how the conversation went as Hasan whispered his translation.

“Well daughter, what’s your husband like?”

“Oh mother, he’s so kind and gentle and caring. He treats me like I’m a princess! His family even bought me all new clothes.”

“That’s wonderful! Has he taken you? Is he a considerate lover?”

“Ah no, we really haven’t done anything yet.”

“No? Does he not find you attractive?”

“I believe so; he’s very affectionate towards me. On our wedding might, he saw my nipples through my shirt and his dool became very erect and large, but he ran to the bathroom and when he returned it had receded. Every morning I feel his manhood pressed against my bottom and it makes my stomach flutter and I feel all tingly inside. He loves to brush and play with my hair. He also likes my feet for some reason. He’s always tickling, licking and kissing my toes. It’s fun and he makes me laugh. He’s not like Muslim men, Momma: he pampers me and makes me feel special”

“Does he excite you?”

“Insha Allah! When he looks at me with those deep blue eyes I get wetness between my legs and want to melt! His kisses are tender and soft and his lips are like honey! We’ve even touched tongues!”

“There, you see my child? Allah has chosen for you a special blessing and a true love. If he hasn’t touched you yet, he must be a shy boy?”

“Yes mother, I believe so. He’s very kind and I think he’s afraid to hurt or upset me. He seems to know my heart and my feelings. Whenever I’m frightened or fearful, he just holds me tenderly and showers me with gentle kisses and it makes me feel all warm and safe inside. He can speak to me with his eyes and his smile tells me he understands my heart.”

“Do you think he loves you?”

“I think he does. I mean he looks at me sometimes with deep emotion and I think he wants to be intimate with me, but maybe he’s a little afraid that I might not be ready. It’s strange but we seem to always be feeling the same things. We still struggle with what we’ve been through but he’s strong, Momma: he’s strong for himself and for me. It gets better every day. He’s very protective of me: more than Papa!”

“Has he touched you intimately? Would you accept his advances?”

“I think so (giggles). He squeezed my nipple once but it so suddenly surprised me, I playfully slapped his hand. I think he understood that I wasn’t offended.”

“What did he do?”

“He kissed my neck then cuddled me to sleep. He holds me to sleep every night and sometimes in his sleep, he presses his hard dool against my bottom.”

“Is his manhood large?”

“I think so, but I haven’t seen it. It sure feels big pressed against me.”

“Hmmm, maybe you should make a gesture towards him: that is if you’re ready.”

“I’m not sure, Momma, I have a feeling deep down inside that I should trust him on this matter. He always seems to know what I’m thinking and feeling and I know he’d never ever hurt me. When he’s ready, I know I’ll be also. But then, if my desire grows as it has been, I may find the courage to give myself to him. Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense. So you trust him, yes? The basis of a lifelong and enduring love is built on trust. It’s good that you trust him. It is a blessing that you have been joined to this foreigner. We hear a lot of Western men are more expressive, affectionate and loving towards their wives than most Muslim men. You know a Muslim man would have taken you the first night and had his pleasure. He has already attempted to lay down his life for you and obviously cares deeply for you. Are you in love with him?”

“Oh Momma, I have never been so happy in all my life! On our wedding night I was so frightened and scared because it was like reliving all the horror of that day in the street. He let me bathe in private and when he saw I had no clothes to wear; he clothed me and took away my fears. He didn’t force himself on me; he just held me and made me feel protected and safe. Yes I love him. I love him with all my heart!”

“Then I’ll have peace. When you leave, I’ll never see your face again but I can die happy knowing that you are loved and have the life I’ve always dreamed for you.”

‘Oh, Momma, I’m going to miss you so much! I’ll miss Papa and Rafi too; but you are my mother and also like my sister and friend. I will never forget you or what you have taught me.”

“Just give me a blue-eyed grandchild to remind me of you and I’ll be happy beyond measure!

“My in-laws also treat me with love. Mother-in-law calls me daughter.”

“Then go to her as you would me. Trust in her as you would me and listen to her words. She will be a good teacher in America and your new life.”

“Thank you, Momma. I will.”

“Now, let’s get these refreshments to your husband, he’s waiting patiently for us.”

“Yes, Momma.”

I was so moved by the conversation, I started to cry and got up and walked outside to compose myself. Hasan followed quickly and I think when Narisa saw Hasan, she realized that Hasan had probably translated the entire conversation. Outside, Hasan rubbed my shoulder and said, “Like I said, a beautiful amorous woman, beautiful babies: what more does a man need?”

I looked at him with a tearful smile and answered, “Not a damn thing!”

We hugged in the universal “guy” way and went back inside. Smiling, we re-entered the house. Narisa and her mother stood in the living room holding trays of refreshments: silent, as if waiting for a sign.

I looked at my tiny bride, smiled gently and professed, “I love you my little Persian Princess. I love you more than you’ll ever know!”

Juwan gave me a tearful Mona Lisa smile and Narisa “Eeek’ed”, set the tray down and leapt into my arms. I lifted her up hugging her tiny frame, rocking her back and forth with her feet about a foot off the floor. Just then, Nazir and Rafi walked in the door and Nazir was surprised at the scene and cleared his throat with a smiling noticeable cough. Rafi just had his usual cheese-eating grin.

We sat and started drinking tea when my parents arrived. Narisa scampered off to the kitchen like a flitting little hummingbird to bring more refreshments for her new family. We updated Nazir and Juwan on how everything was going so far regarding obtaining the needed documents for Narisa’s departure and entry into the U.S. Nazir said that because of the publicized political nature of our case, we wouldn’t have any problems; they wanted us gone as bad as we wanted to leave.

He asked Dad to come by the station tomorrow and he would give him the guardianship papers and power of attorney. Mom asked him to make her Narisa’s guardian because if we went before the court to obtain a marriage license, she could sign for Narisa and Dad would sign for me. They agreed.

Mom then asked if Hasan and Rafi could take a walk for a while because she wanted to discuss a private matter with Narisa’s parents, Narisa and I. Rafi grabbed his football and they played it cool like it was their idea to go to the park.

Once we were alone, Mom began her discussion.

“I know this matter may seem very private to Josh and Narisa, and it isn’t something that’s normally discussed with their parents, but I think we should discuss it and get everyone’s opinion. Here in Iran, Narisa is a legally married adult woman and Josh is a legally married adult male, but in the U.S., they are considered children and underage minors. As such, they cannot sign a contract, register for school or even consent to get medical treatment.

“Even though they have a valid marriage recognized by the U.S. government, in Virginia where we will live, their marriage may not be recognized as valid. We will petition the court for special permission to allow them to marry there. I think it would be wise, and it would show the court that both of our children approach their marriage in a mature and adult manner if Narisa remained a virgin, which can be verified by a doctor until they are married in the U.S.”

Narisa’s parents looked a little shocked by the content of my mother’s statement. Narisa and I looked at each other and blushed as the adults sat in uncomfortable silence.

Mom leaned forward to break the impasse by continuing.

“I know this subject probably comes as a shock to you but I have my reasons. Unfortunately in the U.S., kids their age are having casual sex. If Josh and Narisa have already consummated their marriage by actual intercourse, the judge may think that he’s being asked to grant permission for two under aged teens simply to freely have sex with all its ramifications and consequences. Usually, these marriages are only granted when the girl is pregnant and they permit it for the sake of the baby. If they can show restraint, they prove to the judge that they are committed to each other in all the other ways and not just controlled by hormones, there’s a better chance he’ll approve it. I think we should anticipate any grounds on which the judge might be inclined to refuse and disprove them as a moot point. We as adults are well aware that they’re able to give and receive each other pleasure by other means until this is resolved.

“Besides, there’s also the issue of pregnancy. If Narisa gets pregnant at her age, it could seriously hamper their education, careers and possibly their lives.”

Nazir looked at Juwan with a concerned sigh and made a smirk as if contemplating Mom’s hypothesis. He leaned forward and replied by saying, “I can see your point and maybe it’s a good one: especially the pregnancy issue. I don’t know because your laws are different than ours. But Islamic law says that it’s a sin for a husband to deny his wife’s pleasure and for a wife to deny her husband’s pleasure. I for one cannot or will not tell my daughter what she can or cannot ask for or do in her marriage bed. I believe that what they do together is sacred and private. If they choose to use other methods of pleasure, then that’s their decision to make: not ours. It is however a valid point and one I think maybe they should consider but in the end, it is their choice: not ours that matters here. I also speak for Juwan on this matter.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to us and Mom asked, “Josh, Narisa, how do you feel about what’s been said?”

Narisa looked at me and replied, “We really haven’t done anything yet. I really can’t ask for or demand what I haven’t yet experienced. Josh has been very loving, kind and considerate with me. I will say that if he asks, I shall give myself to him: I will not deny him his rights as a husband. I will defer this decision to my husband.”

“Josh?” Mom asked.

“This is so screwed up Ma!” I began tersely, “I understand your concern and that you’re trying to look out for our future, but at the same time it’s kind of like you’re running our lives. I mean it’s almost as if you’re saying that we’re married, but we can only sleep together on the weekends because it’s a school night. I know that sounds stupid but that’s how I feel. I mean first we’re thrown together and all of a sudden we’re married and we don’t even know each other. We can only communicate with gestures and actions and what’s drawn us together is our time alone at night. That’s where we’ve been able to build the most trust.

“I know we’re just kids even though we’re married and I know what parents are always telling kids about wanting to learn about sex, experiment and sort out all the emotions and feelings we have with our hormones raging. At the same time, it’s different with us: we are married! If the U.S. government can acknowledge that and the circumstances that surround our situation and admit Narisa into the U.S. as my wife, I seriously don’t think some Virginia judge is gonna say we just want to get married to legally have sex.”

I stopped to catch my breath and collect my thoughts before beginning again, “Like Narisa said, we’re just beginning to trust each other and I just told her that I’m in love with her just before you arrived. If I’m a man, and both of you have trusted her and I enough to let us sleep together then you should trust us to do what’s right for us. I’ve accepted the fact that even though I never wanted to get married at my age, I am. I can’t change that. I can’t take her back home and divorce her, leave her alone or even live in the same house with her knowing that we were married then go out, get a girlfriend and fool around like other guys my age. I’m married, she’s my wife, and I’m gonna love her like Dad loves you and I’m gonna try like hell to make her happy. If that means we do “it” tonight, tomorrow or two months from now, then that’s what we’ll do, but I’ll promise you this: I won’t have intercourse with Narisa until I feel it’s the right time for her and she’s ready. If the judge can’t see the facts or doesn’t like it, he can stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

Mom was taken aback by the directness of my answer as was Narisa and Juwan. In their culture, a child didn’t talk that candidly with their parents. Dad and Nazir had approving subtle smiles on their faces because I’d stood up to Mom like a man.

Mom sat back in her chair wide-eyed and replied, “Well, I guess he told me! Just keep it in mind okay?”

I wasn’t going to give an inch on this and retorted, “The only thing on my mind is her welfare, Mom; that comes first.”

“Some more tea?” Juwan asked to change the subject.

“I’d love some, Mom!” I said with a proud smile.

Narisa hugged my arm to her chest, proud that I’d openly professed my love and concern for her in front of our parents. God, her eyes are so bright, shining and expressive!

Rafi and Hasan returned soon after that and we sat down and had a great family meal that the three women had prepared. We “men” sat in the living room after dinner and talked of life in the U.S. while the women folk chatted and did the dirty cleanup.

Dad picked up the guardianship papers and power of attorney from Nazir the next day and several days later, we obtained Narisa’s passport and exit permit from the police station. He also contacted our attorney to file a petition with the court for Narisa and me to get married.

As for us, we just took things slow and grew closer together in the ensuing days. I had begun to learn a few words in Farsi and she was able to do the same with English, even learning to pronounce my name correctly. Mom taught her a few endearments in English and me some in Farsi. Regarding our communication as a whole, we just seemed to be able to sense what each other was thinking or feeling.

Notwithstanding the usually attracting attributes of my little wife’s form, I was totally enamored and fixated on Narisa’s large, brilliant blue expressive eyes. They just seemed to sparkle and whenever she looked at me through her lashes, I wanted to get lost in them and she just melted my heart. I was also fascinated with her long, curly blue-black hair and her ever so tiny feet.

Every morning I would brush and play with her hair as she giggled from the attention. I also made a habit of tickling her as a pretense to kiss and fondle her tiny feet. She just so enthralled me with her innocent smile and infectious laugh. Narisa’s voice was kind of high pitched and soft, sort of like a young Japanese or Chinese girl’s and was very melodic to listen to.

Have you ever noticed that when someone brings up a topic and says you shouldn’t do it: that’s what’s on your mind? After Mom’s talk with us at Narisa’s parent’s home, I think it was on both of our minds. Not to hurry up and do it, but it was just something unspoken between us right under the surface.

Narisa had clutched my hand to her breast every night as a precursor to falling asleep, but I was always apprehensive of going further with her beyond a gentle squeeze of her breast or us making out. I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist but I somehow felt she needed time to heal or maybe it was just me. Every time I pictured her naked and in terror, I didn’t want her to feel she had to show her nakedness to me simply because I was her husband.

Two days before we were to leave, we’d finalized all our travel arrangements, obtained the necessary asylum papers from the State Department and were ready to go home. We were to spend the next day, the day before we left, with her family so that Narisa could be with them one last time.

We readied for bed as we usually do: I generally just stripped off down to my boxers and climbed into bed while Narisa would go to the bathroom to change. Tonight though, she sat on the bed as I disrobed and chuckled nervously as she watched me. I pulled back the covers and climbed in giving her a shrug as if to ask “What’s wrong, aren’t you gonna get ready for bed?”

She looked at me as if contemplating for a few silent moments and rose to stand by the chair. Slowly she began to unbutton her abaya, bunching the bottom up in her hands to undo the bottom buttons. When she’d unbuttoned the garment to right below her panty-clad treasure, she let the garment fall and began to finish undoing the top buttons. Once unbuttoned, she slowly pulled it from her shoulders with a pensive smile as she bit her lower lip. She then let it fall by gravity off her arms and caught it behind her in her grasp. She turned to the side and laid it on the chair and turned back around to face me.

She stood motionless for a few seconds then reached around and unhooked her small bra. She hunched her shoulders and let the straps fall down her arms as she held the cups in place with her arm. With a timid smile and a sigh of resignation she lowered her hands and as her bra fell away, I saw my wife’s beautiful breasts for the first time. My little bride’s breasts were perfection! They were small, conical mounds that pointed straight out about two inches from her chest about the size of half an apricot. They were topped with light pinkish brown puffy areolae and capped with two, tiny eighth-inch nipples. I just took in this incredible vision in slack-jawed wonder!

She turned around and slowly slid her panties down her legs and bending over slightly stepped out of them one leg at a time as she held the garment in her right hand. She laid the garment on the chair and slowly turned to face me with her hand covering her mons. Still looking at her in wide-eyed wonder, she cutely put up her hands as if to say ‘Well?’ and with a smile quipped, “I’m nakey!”

I was so hard I could have used my dick as a chisel to cut diamonds! Narisa’s mons had a light dusting of fine, black pubic hairs with a fleshy roundness at the top of her crease with sleek, smooth and hairless slender labia. She had a pronounced hood that poked out proudly from between her lips. I couldn’t see any part of her labia minora hidden between folds.

I rose out of bed and she looked down at my boxers as if to say, “Hey, you’re overdressed!” I blushed as I slid my boxers down to expose my appreciation for Narisa’s breathtaking charms. With a hand-covered gasp she stood fixated on my engorged tumescence with wide eyes.

I came around the bed towards her and she leapt into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and hiding her face in my chest. I carried her to the bed and laid her down on her side then climbed over her to lie beside her.

“She then mounted my twelve inch schlong and impaled herself in on fluid motion…” Not!!!! (Sorry, got carried away: I’ve read too many stories on SOL). In reality, I’m just an average fourteen-year-old kid with a five or six inch erect penis and about an inch and a half across. Where were we? Oh yeah…

As I leaned down to kiss her, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a scorching hot kiss. She hungrily thrust her tongue into my mouth and we were almost immediately kissing in wild passion.

I was so hot I just wanted to ravage her and like a kid in a candy store, I couldn’t decide where to start: I wanted it all! I slowly brought my hand up her right side to cup her breast and she exhaled deeply into my mouth and moaned as she pushed her breast into my hand. I began laying kisses all over her face: her forehead, cheeks, eyes, nose and chin as I gently kneaded my wife’s tiny breast bud.

Surrendering her neck, Narisa tilted her head back as I nipped and kissed my way around and up to her ear and lightly nipped her lobe. I kissed her right shoulder, down her armpit and gently enclosed her entire breast in my mouth. She fed her breast into my mouth with a gasp and looking down as I suckled moaned “Oh Josh!”

Narisa was panting as I moved to her left breast, paying the same homage as I did the right. I made a feather stroke with the back of my hand down the center of her chest to her mons and slowly cupped her vulva. Narisa lurched up and groaned out “Oh my God!”

I pressed my finger against her wet, hot slippery crease and my middle finger fell into her valley. I dragged my finger up to the top of her crease and she was shaking as she pressed herself against my finger longing for more contact. I brushed my finger across her hot, throbbing clit and it was fully distended and large about a quarter of an inch long.

I circled it three times and she exploded, locking her legs together and trapping my hand, which she had grabbed and held tightly in hers. She got a dreamy look on her face as she tilted her bead back and as she came she screamed out ‘Oh Josh, I love you!” and relaxed back on the bed.

I wanted this night to be all for her! Narisa had taken it upon herself to have the courage to unveil herself to me willingly and I wanted her to know that I worshipped her. I slid down her side, slid her legs open wide and moved in between her legs parting her labia with my fingers. Still panting and recovering, she raised her head and looked down, curious as to what I was doing. I gave her one long swipe through her crease with the flat of my tongue and over her still engorged button and she flinched and grunted out “Uhhh” and flopped her head back onto the bed. As she panted, she blew her hair away from her mouth with a loud “Fuft” as she grabbed my hair and thrust her pelvis upward.

I began to make rhythmic swipes up her crease and she’d gasp out “Oh, Oh, Oh” every time I made contact with her tingle button. She now wrapped her legs around my neck and was thrusting her pelvis up in time to my licking rhythm.

Narisa was oblivious to the world around her. Her entire universe centered on that one engorged appendage with thousands of nerve endings. She was rhythmically keening something in Farsi loudly as I feasted at her grotto.

I sucked her entire clit onto my mouth, hood and all and began to strum it with the tip of my tongue and she went into orbit with all thrusters blasting.

She shuddered three times and pinned my head in a vise when she snapped her legs closed around my head and flooded me like she’d peed. She’d yanked my hair so hard that it felt like she’d lifted off the top of my head while yelling out “Ahhhhhhh Behesht (Heaven)!!!”

Narisa was spent and just laid there motionless, relaxed and panting through her mouth with her eyes closed. Oblivious to my actions, Narisa lay there panting as I rose, went to the bathroom and retrieved a warm washcloth to wipe her with. I tasted her discharge on my lips and it was semi-sweet to the taste: definitely not pee.

I was hard: painfully hard and leaking precum steadily as I returned to her. She’d now opened her eyes in a daze with a dreamy, unfocused smile as I slid into bed next to her. Narisa softly moaned as I gently wiped her vulva but the bed was soaked. She was so out of it, she couldn’t even turn her head: she just lifted her hand and I took it with a gently squeeze. She whispered, “I love you Josh, with all my heart!”

“I love you too, Princess.”

I let go of her hand and it fell on my hip. She gently caressed me and felt my erection, slowly encircling it with her tiny hand.

She looked at me and smiled asking, “Husband need Narisa?”

‘Desperately.”

She slowly turned on her side and laid her head on my chest as she looked at the throbbing erection in her hand. She moved her hand up and down twice and I groaned out loud to which she giggled. She slid down my side and looking back up at me said, “I no know how.”

She leaned over me and placed her mouth over the head and I shuddered and gasped, “Oh God, Sweetheart!”

She slowly slid about three inches into her mouth and she gently swirled her tongue over the head. That was all it took and I thrust upward and shot off into her mouth. Shocked, she swallowed the first salvo but choked on the second and next two spurts, coughing it up onto my groin.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “It just felt so good I couldn’t hold back.”

Narisa started crying and I pulled her up to me and enfolded her in my arms.

“Why cry?”

“I no do right, I spill your seed.”

“I chuckled and replied as I kissed her nose, “Don’t worry, I can make more. I love you, Narisa, more than life itself.”

“I love you too, Josh, I know you alway love me from start.”

Seeing I wasn’t upset with her she smiled, rolled on top of me kissed me, getting us both messy in the process. When we felt the cool, slick stickiness, we both laughed as she sat up and with a scrunched up face went “Eeeuuww.”

She hopped off the bed with a giggle as I watched her cute, tiny little butt at she scooted into the bathroom.

God she’s got a cute butt!

I found my legs and followed her into the bathroom and started the shower. Both laughing, we hopped inside and began to wash each other off. It soon became an adventure in mutual discovery as we both delighted in each other’s nude details. When she was washing my dool, I again became erect and she got that devilish look in her eye.

She giggled as she knelt and began to slowly jerk me off. Well, any fourteen-year-old teenager knows it doesn’t take much with a girl’s hand doing the work and after about a minute I spurted right onto her cheek. In wide-eyed surprise she jerked her head back and began to laugh. After having my second climax within an hour, I wilted quickly. She flopped it from side-to-side and quipped, “He sleeping now?”

Nodding I replied, “Yeah, he’s done for the night.”

Climbing into bed naked, we spooned into our normal position. Narisa giggled before she settled down and wiggled her butt to place my dool between her tiny little cheeks, where he belonged. I gave her right nipple a loving squeeze and a kiss on her neck and we fell into a sated, wedded slumber.

When we arrived at the breakfast table, both with Cheshire cat grins, Mom asked nonchalantly, “Have a good night?”

Narisa blushed a bright pink and covered her face giggling as I proudly said, “Yea, Mom, the best of our lives!”

She reached into her robe pocket and set a pack of condoms on the table saying, “Well next time, you’d better wear a raincoat, you both might unexpectedly catch something: like a baby!”

“It wasn’t what you think. Were we that loud?” I asked.

“Suffice it to say;” she said over her coffee cup, “you’re lucky the morality police weren’t banging on the door.”

“Are you disappointed in us?”

Mom gave us a gentle smile and answered, “No Son, you were right. It’s none of my business. You two are married and have the right to live your lives in a way that deepens and expresses your love for each other and if the judge doesn’t like it? Well, he can stick it, right?”

“Thanks Mom.”

Our last night in Tehran was a good one. Narisa found that she really enjoyed the French arts (I enjoyed it as much as she did!) and she made me lick her through four orgasms until I thought my tongue would fall out. I’m lucky I don’t have a couple of bald spots where she was pulling my hair. Narisa was much better this time: didn’t spill ne’er a drop. For whatever reason, what we’d shared the past two nights was enough; this only meant we’d have times to experience more firsts. As we lay in bed after our unbridled passion expressed itself and I was holding my tiny Persian Princess to sleep I said to myself, Ah, to be between the slender thighs of a dark haired, doe-eyed, nubile Iranian girl… Hasan? You were so right!

Our flight back was rearranged and we were flying British Airways with only one stop at Heathrow in London with a six-hour layover and arriving in Washington D. C. at 8:35PM local time. All the documents were in hand, passports and exit permits obtained, every detail was finished and tomorrow we’d go back home.

Despite all that had happened in the past ten weeks: the painful and traumatic events of saving a girl’s life, our trial, conviction and sentencing to die only to be snatched from the precipice of death, I found my life in this hostile, ancient and mysterious country. I’d made friends: friends that I’d remember and think about for the rest of my life and…

I found love. I found, in a tiny, fragile and terrorized little waif naked in the street and moments from death, my reason for living.