He stared at the milk dripping from his fingers aghast. "That... that'smilk! I'm producing milk! Does that... does that... am I becoming a w...oh, God..... oh, fuck..."Horror and pleasure met in his mind and started to fuck as the certaintystruck him like a hammer, he was the protagonist in one of the tales thathe loved so much... and protagonist and victim were so easilyinterchangeable as he knew all too well... then, with sorrow, he realizedthat such thoughts had made his penis spring hard once. Among the watchers were Marseeneh, the mother of the bride and Princess Zubeydeh, the mother of the Emir; the groom was mortified to have to admit that his own mother was dead, but did allow his Head Wife to attend.A long and very formal ceremony was tiring for the young Emir and as soon as Kamal Qumsiyeh, his head of Protocol, would allow, the Emir slipped away from the feasting and the smoking. Secretly he would have given his eye teeth for a few pints of English beer, but knew that alcohol. More

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