haremfaery
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2009
- Posts
- 3,588
Katirah could see that the Comte was enjoying his bath. His face was finally free of that near permanent frown line between his eyebrows. It made him look younger, less harsh, more handsome.
She almost didn't hear him when he told her to sing in her own language. Perhaps it sounded more exotic to him. Or perhaps he found her French displeasing. She must remember to ask him. If her French was so bad, she needed to improve it. She was sure the Comte was far to busy to teach her. Perhaps one of his men... She switched back to Turkish.
Samara dropped the cloth and pulled her hand away rapidly when the Comte grabbed her wrist. He was as large as Katirah implied from their giggled conversation earlier. She was relieved that he would wash his privates himself. "Pardon, me Comte." She breathed out in her bad French.
Samara moved away from the side of the tub and knelt at the back. She sat upright so she could reach the Comte's head. She ran her fingers through his hair and began to massage his scalp pulling his head back so it rested between her breasts. Her fingers made little circles.
Katirah finished her song and began another. She was playing the Pasha's favorites. These love songs seemed to please the Comte.
((http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OPRlCnhC6o another love song about a lover who has gone away and left no forwarding address basically. Sounds better in Turkish ))
She almost didn't hear him when he told her to sing in her own language. Perhaps it sounded more exotic to him. Or perhaps he found her French displeasing. She must remember to ask him. If her French was so bad, she needed to improve it. She was sure the Comte was far to busy to teach her. Perhaps one of his men... She switched back to Turkish.
Samara dropped the cloth and pulled her hand away rapidly when the Comte grabbed her wrist. He was as large as Katirah implied from their giggled conversation earlier. She was relieved that he would wash his privates himself. "Pardon, me Comte." She breathed out in her bad French.
Samara moved away from the side of the tub and knelt at the back. She sat upright so she could reach the Comte's head. She ran her fingers through his hair and began to massage his scalp pulling his head back so it rested between her breasts. Her fingers made little circles.
Katirah finished her song and began another. She was playing the Pasha's favorites. These love songs seemed to please the Comte.
((http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OPRlCnhC6o another love song about a lover who has gone away and left no forwarding address basically. Sounds better in Turkish ))