The Devil’s Pact
Tales from the Best Buy Incident: A Good Muslim Girl Part 1: Confusion
© Copyright 2015
Story Codes: Female/Female, Oral Sex
For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Note: This takes place three weeks after the Best Buy Incident, following Fatima. Thanks to b0b for beta reading this.
Thursday, June 20th, 2013 – Fatima Tawfeek
I sat in my car, staring at the Eagles Club in downtown Puyallup.
Why was I here? I didn’t plan on coming to the support group. What if she showed up tonight? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I could not stop thinking about her since the incident in the Best Buy three weeks ago. When I closed my eyes to go to sleep, her cherub face surrounded by brown curls appeared before me.
We spent that entire morning. Together. Engaging in perversity. In sihaq. I had prayed and prayed for Allah the Merciful to forgive me. Not for engaging in a carnal act with a woman, that was out of my control, but for lusting to experience it again.
And not just for Lucy, I found my gaze lingering on all the women I saw.
These Christian women in America wore far too revealing clothes. Their lack of modesty inflamed my passions and I could not help but let my eyes feast on their exposed flesh. At night, when I succumbed to the weakness of my sex and pleasured myself, it was no longer a man I imagined. Even when I would go to Mosque for Friday Prayers, I found my gaze lingering on the rear of the woman praying in front of me. Right there in the holy Mosque I found my thoughts drifting to impure acts.
In my fantasies, I would reach out and pull up the hem of her jilbāb, the long, modest robe of a good Muslim woman. I would keep pulling up while she kept praying, exposing dusky, beautiful legs until her plain, white panties were revealed, the dark shadow of her bush just visible through the panties’ gusset. I would slowly pull the panties down, exposing a plump ass and her pussy covered by her thick mat of hair.
The smell of her arousal would fill my nose, tart and spicy—like Lucy’s. Then I would bury my face into her sweet pussy, her silky hairs tickling my cheeks as I feasted on her. The other women praying would ignore the woman’s sweet moans. And while I ate her out, my hands would hike up my own jilbāb and shove my hands into my panties and pleasure myself.
I shuddered in my car seat as a sweet orgasm rippled through me. And then I flushed in shame. I was so caught in my fantasy, I started masturbating in public. I wiped my damp fingers on the passenger seat and adjusted the colorful shaylah that covered my head and hair, leaving only my round face exposed.
Like a good Muslim girl.
My phone chimed, and I fished it out and saw with horror it was another text from Lucy. Before the Gas wore off I gave Lucy my phone number. The girl had been badgering me ever since with declarations of love and passion. “R you coming 2nite?” the message read.
I was so confused. I burned to see Lucy. But it was wrong. And there was no-one I could talk to about it. My mother and sisters would shun me. The Imam at my Mosque would just tell my father and he would beat me. He was already disappointed that I hadn’t found a husband yet at nineteen.
Is that why I came here tonight?
Everyone here were victims of the Incident like I was. They must be struggling with the same issues I am. We all did things that day we would never have dreamed of doing. Because of Mark Glassner.
I felt dirty just thinking about the man. I could still taste his salty seed as I licked it off Lucy’s face. And not just his sperm. Other men shot their loads on us while we pleasured each other. Their greasy, disgusting seed.
You liked it during the Incident, a voice whispered. Just like you loved tasting Lucy’s pussy.
I slid out of my car. I needed to talk to someone, to get this off my chest before I went crazy. I walked across the street. A blonde girl in an absolutely obscene outfit that consisted of a tight halter top that left her flat, cute stomach bare and showed off her perky tits. Her pants were a very tight pair of blue-jeans that just hugged her shapely ass. I recognized her from the Incident. She was the girl getting fucked over and over at the Geek Squad desk. A pimply-faced guy next to her handed me a business card that read:
Divine Escorts – The prettiest girls to keep you satisfied.
Kevin Mattock (253) 555-6812
Director of Customer Service, Owner
Jessie Smith (253) 555-7343
Premier Escort, Owner
“So you’re actually a whore now, Jessie?” a woman said behind me.
“I am a high class escort,” Jessie said, smiling. “It’s good to see you Stacy.”
I turned to see a brunette and a Spanish girl holding hands. Both wore blue Best Buy polos and khaki pants. “How is it going?” the Spanish girl asked. “Being an ‘escort’?”
“Great,” Jessie smiled. “We already have two other girls working for us. Are you two interested? You could make some great money.”
Stacy, the brunette, pulled the Hispanic girl to her. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to share my Rosalita. I do not understand how Kevin is comfortable with you being with other people.”
Kevin, the pimply-faced guy, laughed. “I guess it helped watching her getting gangbanged during the Incident.”
“Sex and love aren’t the same,” Jessie smiled, giving Kevin a fond look.
I took a deep breath, staring at the two girls. “Are you two…?”
“Lesbians?” Rosalita asked and I nodded. “We are.” She gave Stacy a shy smile. “I always had a crush on her, but Stacy never seemed to notice.”
“Subtly goes right over my head, Rosa,” Stacy complained.
Rosa laughed and looked fondly at Stacy. “Well, then the Incident happened and we made love at the registers.”
“But, that was just the gas, right?” I asked. “I mean, Stacy, you weren’t gay before.”
Stacy shrugged. “What does that matter. I found someone who loves me. Does it matter that she’s the same sex as me?”
I didn’t have an answer to that and I turned and hurried inside. Her words echoed in my mind. This wasn’t helping my confusion, just making it worse. Those four were clearly warped by what happened to them in the Incident. Just like me.
But they seemed happy. I ignored that traitorous voice trying to lead me to sihaq.
I found a seat on a metal, folding chair laid out in the meeting hall. My mind whirled as I struggled with Stacy’s words. The Qur’an was quite clear that homosexual behavior was wrong. I could not be a good Muslim and be gay.
Why couldn’t life be easy?
I jumped, glancing up to see Lucy standing over me, a smile that was half-hopeful and half-fearful. She was so beautiful with those blue eyes set in her round, cherub’s face. I wanted to say hi, to smile back. I wanted to give in to my sin.
I looked down at my hands and ignored her.
“Please talk to me,” she pleaded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Fatima. Please!”
A tear ran hot down my cheek and drop onto my folded hands. Why was I crying? Because I wanted to respond to her. To look at her. To kiss those red lips. I steeled my heart. No! I’m stronger than this sin. I will be a good and proper Muslim. Allah would not send this temptation to me if I was not strong enough to resist it.
“Just look at me!” Lucy demanded. “I know you felt that connection between us. That’s why you chose me! Out of all the people in that crowd. You chose me. Deep down it’s what you’ve always wanted, Fatima.”
I flushed even more. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was the gas. But why did I choose a woman? Why did I choose Lucy? There were plenty of men in the crowd. The other women Mark commanded to find a partner had chosen men. So why didn’t I? Memories of bathing with my older sister floated up in my mind. I had been so fascinated by her breasts. I was twelve and she was fifteen. They were so round and beautiful. In gym class, why did I always stop to admire the other girls. I told myself I was just comparing our developments. But was there something else? Something more?
More tears fell on my clenched fists.
Other people were walking in, a general murmur filled the room. I could feel Lucy’s shadow on me; I fought and fought the urge to look up at her. I just kept squeezing my fists, fighting my sin and confusion.
Lucy walked off and I relaxed. “Here you go,” a woman said, handing me a napkin. I looked over at her to see a stunning platinum-blonde with a beautiful, fierce face and those tits. My eyes fell on them, straining against her small, black dress. I snatched the napkin, dabbing my eyes, and looking away from the temptation of the woman’s cleavage.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“We all were changed that day,” the woman said, patting my arm. She leaned in. “I fucked my first cock and I loved it. I always thought I was a lesbian, but now I’m not sure. I mean, I still love my wife, but I burn inside to feel a cock in me.”
She was so forthright. How could she say such shameful things without even sounding embarrassed? I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t make the words come out. Even to a stranger, I couldn’t admit my shame.
Her smile was full of support. “It’s okay. I understand. I couldn’t tell my wife about my changes.” Her eyes flickered to a man walking by. “Umm, I bet he has a nice cock.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote something down and handed it to me. “If you ever need to talk.” Then she stood up, and strode after that guy.
She wrote her name, Ashley, and her phone number down for me. I almost balled it up, then I slipped it into my purse. Maybe she could help me. Maybe.
The meeting was started by Oscar, the manager from the Best Buy. He was the one that organized this support group since more than half of his employees were victims. My thoughts drifted in an out as people came up to speak. It was like an AA meeting, I guess. People confessing what they did while the group of people gave the understanding and support.
But I was too confused to pay too much attention. Words echoed through my head. We were all changed that day, Ashley told me. And Lucy’s heartfelt words burned in my mind: I know you felt that connection between us. That’s why you chose me! Out of all the people in that crowd. You chose me. The way Stacy looked fondly at Rosalita as she confessed, I found someone who loves me. Does it matter that she’s the same sex as me?
The Qur’an taught differently. They were the words of the Allah’s messenger. How could they be wrong? How could my heart be right?
“I met someone very special that day.”
I looked up and saw Lucy at the podium. Her blue eyes fixed on mine, peering into my soul. I could see the love and hurt mixed together. My heart quickened in my breast, urging me to go to her.
“She is beautiful and sweet and so loving,” Lucy continued. “I felt something as we were together. We were so connected. It didn’t matter that all these men were watching us, even cumming on us. We were one soul that morning. One loving soul and I want to get that feeling back. I love her. I know how silly that sounds. How could I love her? We just met, but I know it. I feel it in my heart. And I know she feels it to. I can see it in her eyes as she stares back at me.”
I flushed. I was so lost in her eyes, in her voice, that I started when I realized everyone in the room was staring at me. Her words were tugging at my heart. I wanted to go up to her, to confess my own feelings. Who cares if it’s a sin if it feels so right.
“I love you, Fatima,” Lucy pleaded, tears shining in her eyes. “Please, just talk to me!”
I rose and fled the hall.
I had to.
Only she followed.
I was fumbling with my purse, trying to grab my car keys when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I screeched and dropped my purse. I whirled about and saw Lucy, her cherub-face stained with tears. Her eyes were pools of desperate longing, her lips red with sweet sin.
“Fatima, please,” she begged. “I love you.”
My heart drowned out my conscience with a surge of hot blood. Every part of me felt inflamed. I threw my arms around her neck and pulled those sweet, red lips to me and my heart sang with joy as I tasted just how sweet and sinful they were. Lucy melted against me, throwing her arms about me, clutching at me like a drowning woman desperately clinging to flotsam. We kissed and kissed, ignoring the honking cars as they gawked at the two girls kissing.
The two lesbians.
The two sinners.
“My place is close,” Lucy panted when we finally surfaced for air.
I drove. She lived only a few blocks away on the other side of the railroad tracks that bisected downtown Puyallup. She had a basement apartment, only one bedroom. It was tiny, cramped with her furniture. We were kissing the moment she opened the door ; we didn’t make it to her bed, but fell onto her ragged couch.
“This is a dream,” she whispered as she pulled off my shaylah, exposing my long, black hair.
It was a dream. A sweet, sinful dream that I hoped I would never wake up from as we kissed again, her hands running through my silky hair. Our passion grew, and I pulled off her shirt, exposing a racy, red bra that covered her small breasts. I reached behind her and fumbled at the clasp. I gasped in awe as her tiny breasts, topped with dark-red nipples, appeared. I had to taste them. I leaned in and sucked one into my mouth, savoring the feel on my lips.
Lucy moaned as I nursed at her breast. I kissed across her chest and captured the other nipple, swirling my tongue about it and delighting in her sweet moans. My hands were roaming her sides and stomach, brushing the waistband of her jeans. There was a metallic snap; I undid them, the zipper rasping. I shoved my hand inside her pants, feeling her heat through her panties.
We were kissing again as I rubbed her pussy through her panties, her fingers fumbling at the brass buttons of my white blouse. I moaned into her lips as her hands groped my breasts through my plain, boring bra. I was a D Cup and her hands felt so small on my round melons. Lucy pushed up on my bra cup and my right breast popped out.
“They are so beautiful,” Lucy praised as her finger circled my dark brown nipple, twice the size of hers.
I shivered in delight as her mouth captured my sensitive nub, sucking hard and I leaned back on the couch. Her hand pushed up my other bra cup and her hand gently kneaded my large tit. She buried her face between my breasts, pressing them up against her cheeks.
I slid my hand back into her pants, into her panties, and found her shaved and wet. Her gasp was muffled between my breasts as I penetrated her pussy with my middle finger, her back arching in pleasure. She released my breast and hiked up my long, black skirt exposing my plain, cotton panties drenched with my passion.
“Oh, Lucy,” I sighed as she ran a finger against the gusset of my panties, pressing the fabric into the lips of my pussy.
I fingered her faster as she petted my pussy through my panties. Her lips recaptured my nipple and I fucked a second finger into her wet pussy. Her hands tugged my panties down, and I lifted my ass to help her out. I was trembling in anticipation, feeling her fingers slid down my inner thigh closer and closer to my aching pussy.
Her finger penetrated me. I was so aroused, so ready to be touched. I exploded, crying out in Arabic as my orgasm crashed through me. Her finger pumped inside my wet depths and her thumb rubbed my clit. I gasped as another orgasm surged on the tail of the first.
I pulled her mouth off my nipple and kissed her as she kept fingering me and orgasm after orgasm flowed through me. Each one was stronger than the last until all I could do was writhe on the couch and moan my passion into her mouth. Her fingers kept moving inside me until the pleasure grew so strong, so intense, that it hurt for her to touch me and I pushed her hand away and panted in exhaustion.
“That was beautiful,” I whispered to her and I could see tears in her eyes.
I feared waking up from this dream as I pushed her onto her back and slid down her body. I peeled her jeans off her hips and ass, pulled them down her skinny, white legs. She wore a racy pair of red panties and those came off exposing her pussy, pink and spread open and glistening with her juices. I bent down and tasted her spicy tartness.
“Oh, Fatima, yes! I love you!” Lucy moaned.
As my tongue explored her delicate folds, I realized that I loved her, too. Tears ran down my face as I brought pleasure to my lover. I was so happy. Lucy moaned and panted as I made love to her bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, reveling in the taste, scent, and touch of her. She came so hard the last time, her pussy gushed juices into my startled face. She pulled my face up and we gently kissed.
It was the sweetest dream I ever had, but it was time to wake up.
Hours later, after we both had satiated ourselves, I watched Lucy sleep peacefully on her bed. I set the note down on her nightstand and walked to her bathroom. The tub was filled with steaming-hot water. I slid into the water, leaning back and savoring the warmth. I cupped a handful of water in my hand and splashed it into my face, washing me clean.
“I love you Lucy,” I whispered as I stared up the bathroom ceiling.
But the dream was over. I had to wake up.
I grabbed the long, serrated knife I found in her kitchen and slit my right wrist with a deep, long slash. There was sweet pain and red blood that dripped into the water. Red tears to wash me clean. I closed my eyes and relaxed.
To be continued…
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