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By Very Horni (veryhorni@aol.com)

"I can take you to the place you seek," the Arab girl whispered.
Professor Montana Smith eyed her skeptically. It was hard to judge if she was lying, as all he could see of her face was the dark liquid pools of her eyes above that veil. Although he had been in the kingdom for nearly three weeks he had gotten little help from the authorities. All the private leads he had been given were afraid to talk to him either out of superstition of the legend of the tomb or fear of reprisal from a small band of religious fanatics. "You can take me to the tomb of the Caliph of Muzareh?" he whispered, leaning close as they moved through the tightly packed market place.
"Yes, but not directly. You must meet me outside the city at dusk, behind the third hill south of the old oasis." And with that she disappeared into the crowd ahead of him.
Smith opened his mouth to call her back but then thought better of it and began making his way back to the hotel. Sunset was in three hours and the place she had mentioned was nearly as far in travel time, plus another twenty miles off the main road, quite isolated from civilization. Was it a trap? If so, who was laying it, bandits or the Will of Mohammed sect? One thing was for sure; he had to check it out.
Back at his hotel he quickly packed a flashlight, some food, a full canteen, his research notes and his granddad's old Army revolver. He didn't want to be caught unarmed in case it was an ambush. If he left now, he could make it to the rendezvous point an hour early and just maybe get the drop on whoever might be planning to way lay him. As he made his way down stairs, he decided not to tell anyone where he was going. If the lead was real, he didn't want to be trailed to the tomb until he could publicly announce the discovery on his own, taking full credit.
Once outside he hauled his 6 foot 4 inch frame into the battered old jeep with more than a little difficulty and quickly sped off toward the main road out of town.

Hot wind ruffled Smith's salt and pepper hair and beard as he raced down the blacktop highway. At 48 he still had a good physique, but these expeditions were beginning to take a toll on him as he aged. Increasingly he felt tired. But he needed one last spectacular archeological find to end his career and really make his mark. If he found this tomb, that was it, no more running over the Middle East. He was going to retire alone to his study and write. He sighed. The life of a field archaeologist was a lonely one. He had never had the time to find the right woman. Now it was probably too late.
The brilliant sun was sinking lower in the sky and casting long shadows as he reached the turn off point of what passed for a road to the old oasis. When he got there, it turned out to be not much more than two acres of palm trees and scrub with a spring in the center. It appeared that he was first on the scene, as there were no signs of any other vehicles, camels or horses. Driving the jeep into some tall weeds, in an effort to conceal it, he realized that it might be futile. Even if nobody saw the jeep they might still see the tire tracks. Nothing he could do about that.
Smith grabbed his pack and started heading south for the third hill. Sand slowed his pace as he scaled the slopes and slid down the other side. As he neared the top of the third hill, he thought he heard something on the wind. A voice? More like a moan.
Going to ground, he slowly began crawling the rest of the way to the top and cautiously peered over the edge.
"My God!" he whispered in shock. There, at the bottom of the hill was the girl he had met in the market place, at least he assumed it was her. She was completely naked, lying on a blanket, the tips of the fingers of her right hand delicately caressing the labia over her clitoris.
Smith just stared transfixed for what seemed an eternity at the fantastic vision not twenty feet below him. She seemed completely unaware of his presence. His eyes drank in every detail of the Arab beauty leisurely pleasuring her self. She appeared to be not much more than 21 or 22 and was quite petite, maybe 5 foot 2. Her skin was of a light brown hue, her tummy flat and firm and her breasts-her breasts were perfect, firm and perky with the areolae forming protruding cones that were capped by small hard nipples.
All he could hear was her soft moans, carried by the desert wind. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples as he unashamedly gaped in lust and awe at this pretty angel. His loins were stirring, his dick already hard and pressing through his pants into the sand beneath. When she opened her eyes and looked directly at him, his heart leapt to his throat.
"Professor Smith," she cooed, "You are early. I have been waiting for you."
He was struck dumb. What do you say to a nude Arab beauty that has been pleasuring herself before your very eyes for who knows how long?
"Uhh--uhh--yes..." was all he was finally able to stammer, his voice more of a frog's croak than a human vocal instrument. "I didn't--uh--didn't mean to interrupt."
"Oh, not at all," she replied as she slightly spread her legs, the tip of her middle finger sliding lower down her labia. "But I must tell you that if you want me to take you to the tomb, there is a price."
"There is?" His mind raced, he hadn't bothered to bring any money.
"Yes," she almost moaned, spreading her legs wider, her delicate knees now pointing toward the sky. "You must pleasure me, first with your tongue my most eloquent and esteemed professor."
Smith didn't have to think once, let alone twice, as he slid down the hill toward the lovely naked girl.
"My name is Fatima," she smiled when he stood between her ankles, her open pussy revealed in all its glory.
"Montana," he blurted, though she must already know that. Throwing his hat and jacket into the desert twilight he laid down beside her, his left hand reaching out to gently cup and caress her right breast.
"You're lovely," he whispered. Electric currents lit up all his senses, as his fingertips thrilled to the touch of her silky skin. Her fingers quickly found and undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing his smooth, almost hairless chest, which she began to tenderly kiss. When he brought his lips to hers, he found them incredibly soft, sensuous and yielding, seeming to melt and merge into his own as they shared their first kiss. His left hand seemed to assume a life of its own as he caressed and explored the little body of this young, naked, Arab beauty.
Kissing his way down her neck, to her firm young breasts, his lips found their way to her left areola and nipple. Worshipfully, he extended his lips around it in long, slow, repeated kisses, even as he caressed and gently squeezed her left tit. She moaned with increased pleasure.
Never had he made love to a woman with areolae like hers, a perfect complement to the rest of her perfect body. For a long, long time he kissed and gently sucked her breasts, his tongue running circles around the nipple as it first hardened and then receded into the swelling areola.
Gradually, his mouth engulfed more and more of her breast in his mouth as he continued to gently suck. He couldn't get enough of her tit in his mouth; he wanted to swallow it all, whole.
After a long time, he felt her hands gently pushing his head away from her breast and down towards her tummy. He began kissing his way slowly down to her cute little "innie" belly button. Lingering there for a moment, he kissed and nuzzled his way into her fine, soft pubic hair, her aroused woman scent intoxicating him still further, his head beginning to spin in a delicious dizzy joy of anticipation as his tongue caressed and flicked its way around and down her labia to the gates of paradise.
Opening his mouth wide he pressed his tongue flat and broad against her opening, greedily lapping her juices. He flicked the tip into her fuck hole to drink more of her juices. Then he began slowly and repeatedly licking his way up her slit to her clit, his tongue pressed flat against her glorious pussy. Licking, licking, licking, occasionally pausing to lightly flick her clit which made her toss her head insanely in pleasure, her shrieks of joy echoing into the desert night beneath the brilliant stars.
On and on he pleasured her gently licking and eating her pretty pussy until she grabbed his head and lifting it up, gazed into his eyes with a wild animal lustful abandon.
"Now!" she throatily called.
Montana rose to his knees, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers and placed the head of his fully erect cock at the top of her clit. He began rubbing the tip up and down her hot wet slit, over and over, until she gently but firmly seized his penis and guided it into her hot, wet fuck hole.
God she was tight! Hot, tight and juicy. He began thrusting, slowly at first, but increasingly faster as he abandoned himself to fucking this young naked Arab beauty, intent only on planting his seed deep within her unprotected womb.
On and on he fucked her, pumping her fast then slow, fast then slow, his mind only half believing that he really had his tool buried in this beautiful Arab girl writhing in ecstasy beneath him.
Finally, he couldn't contain himself any longer and with an animal grunt he exploded inside her, his cum splattering, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud in multiple contractions against her pussy walls, pumping her sweet little pussy full of his white hot sperm.
His dick still buried to the hilt inside her he kissed her passionately and repeatedly until his hard-on finally subsided, grew limp and gradually slipped from the gates of paradise.
He held her gently in his arms, totally at peace, at one with her, the night, the stars and the desert. The stars shone brilliantly, casting shadows in the clear night air as a gentle breeze caressed and cooled the lovers. For a long time he just sighed and held her, lost in the beauty of the moment and their union under the Milky Way.
Then, ever so slowly a doubt of uncertainty crept from the inner most recesses of his mind into his consciousness. Finally, he summoned the courage to speak.
"Who are you with, Fatima? Surely not Mohammed's Will?"
"You really don't remember me, do you?" she sighed.
Ashamedly, he gazed into her eyes, until it struck him. "Of course! Fatima! You were in the archaeology class that I taught at Harvard as a guest lecturer last year! My God! You were an ace student. Third row, second from the left. You--you-look so different."
"People generally do without their clothes on," she smiled wryly. "I had a crush on you, but you hardly even noticed me, you were so serious."
"I did notice you and found you extremely attractive but I made it a point not to get involved with my students."
"Are you involved now?"
Gently, taking her tiny hand in his, he caressed the top of hers with his lips.
"Very much so, very, very much. I've fallen head over heels in love with you."
She beamed a gorgeous dimpled grin and grabbed his head, pulling his lips to hers once more in a long open mouthed kiss of intertwining tongues.
But there was something that they had both forgotten in their passion that now bubbled up to the surface of his mind.
"Uhh...Fatima," he hesitantly ventured, though it pained him to again spoil the mood of afterglow, with this exotic beauty snuggled against him in his arms, "I hate to bring this up, but can you still take me to the tomb?"
She laughed softly and pressed herself closer against his chest, her firm young breasts once again sending electrical sparks through his skin, down his spine and into his loins.
"There is no tomb. It is only a legend. Foreigners are always looking to find our national treasure. But it doesn't exist."
He knew she was wrong about the treasure. It did exist. He had just found it. Smiling, they resumed kissing her. Maybe the local university had an opening in the archaeology department.