"Come here," said the young man, and Tiggs walked over to the throne."When I heard that there was a woman trying to pretend she was a man, I thought it must be the American journalist who had herself smuggled into the country under false papers," remarked the Emir, "That must have been difficult to achieve. What do you want?"Before she could answer he interrupted and said, "Just a moment, please."Then he nodded pointedly at a Major Domo who struck the ground with his mace and everyone stood up."Go on." I want to interview some women on the repression they suffer in this country," she said."Don't you want to ask me anything?" inquired the Emir, "I rather thought you knew all about the Kobekistani repression of women already. Last month's edition of your magazine carried a scathing article about it under your by-line." Well, yes, but I expect to find that it is worse than even I imagined. I will want to ask you some very hard questions, but I want to see the women first." Now is not the. Morton. I am about to ass-salt you.” She spoke to the other guys. “Now watch, I don’t want to have to show this to you twice. Or, maybe I do.” She motioned me toward the lounge chair. “You’re such a prude,” said Sonja. My jockeys were on the ground in seconds. “Now, lie down across my lap.” I obeyed, lying on my stomach across her mons veneris. Sonja sprinkled some salt on my ass. “Anybody got a lime?” Paul got up and retrieved a lime from the kitchen. He also brought back a half-empty bottle of tequila. “Smart boy,” said Sonja. She squeezed some line onto my ass, then dribbled tequila across it. Next she was bending forward and licking the concoction off my ass. Her tongue probed my hole, and I was completely hard. “Your turn,” said Sylvia. She made me stand up. The guys had never seen me naked and hard before, but now was not the time for a sudden attack of modesty. “Lie down,” said Sonja, gesturing at the lounge chair. I lay down. Suddenly she was on her back across my knees..
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