Ouled Nail

by Barclay Totten

Copyright ©2025

Jake awoke in a bed in the alcove in Lalla's weaving room. He felt clean and dressed in bed clothing beneath clean sheets and a heavy wool blanket. He felt like Frodo waking up in Rivendale, healed by Elven medicine. It was morning. Again, the Mediterranean light beckoned his return to consciousness with all its mysterious qualities and told him that he had once more lapsed beyond the boundaries of time. 

Through the latticed windows, Jake could see the leaves of a fig tree. The green of life in the light from above glowed with brilliance. So happy to see a natural relationship between celestial light and that lighted. 

Beneath his clothes, his skin was clean and soft, as though having received a recent dose of lotion. Even the areas that customarily were problematic, such as armpits and groin, were seemingly flawless and receptive to his touch. Had Lalla thoroughly washed him in his sleep? Must have. His lips were no longer parched but smooth and hydrated - as well as his face. His hair and scalp were clean, scented with an unfamiliar herbal essence. And with these notions, he felt himself drifting back into rest - back into the healing place where he had recently been. 

Again, his eyes opened, and he realized he had dozed off. He realized now that Lalla had recently slept there. Immediately, the overtone of her scent became overwhelmingly apparent like a herald announcing the arrival of his lord. He could feel where her warmth remained in the bedding next to him. She had been there succoring him back with her flesh, with her warmth - back to normalcy - back to life. 

Once more, Lalla's presence became the dominant factor in Jake's existence. Once more, the thought consumed him like a ravishing beast. Again, his raison de etre became reified in that moment - in her bed - in her room. And with the thought, he glanced around to see precisely where his benefactor was. She was nowhere. She was not at her loom, standing illuminated by the window in the morning light.

Again, Jake awoke. Once more, he didn't know how long he'd been there, drifting in and out. It seemed later in the day, but perhaps on a different day. He didn't know. It was warmer in the room - a noontime warmth. This time, he noticed her flesh next to him - a butt - her butt curving around into cleavage. The butt moved in response, and then it shifted and turned, and his fingers felt leg.

"Hi, Jake," she said.

"Lalla," he responded with a word that was almost too heavy to leave his mouth. The feeling of exhaustion was still in his bones. Just that effort made him want to close his eyes and drift back - back to the quietudes, back to forgetfulness, thoughts of his previous life. Children who had not seen him in how long? A wife who needed and loved him. He felt her touch on his skin and her skin under his touch. Jake felt his cock enlarge and harden as she took it into her mouth and her throat. He felt himself go deep in her throat and didn't feel his wife's typical gag reflex. It was wonderful. He thrust deeply, rapidly, repeatedly into the soft tissues of the esophagus. 

His fingers spread into her hair, holding her head, as Jake drove his cock in as deep as he could. Hair that was not a straight brunette like his wife's, but kinky little black curls. He thought of the Ouled Nail in the lucid dream of a girl he met in Tunis on Avenue Bourguiba who put his hand under her robe - let him feel her. She was on his cock. God, she was good. He let go of her head so she could continue gradually increasing the tempo. He began to breathe deeply and sigh in pleasure. He cried out, "Oh God, oh God, yes."

Jake's eyes opened, and he realized that the curly head that he had grasped was Lalla's. He saw the graceful curves of her forehead, nose, and open mouth bobbing up and down with pleasure on his dick. He didn't care about his thoughts of her. All he wanted was for her head to continue its bobbing motion. 

Strength came back to him, though; no longer did Jake feel achy and drained. No longer did he want to think about anything else except the vibrations of pleasure coursing through him. A familiar hot peppery taste returned to his mouth. A taste that made him long for her nectar. Would she give him some? He knew she would, but the only thing he could think of now was the waves from his dick.

Lalla wrapped her lips around her teeth and gently bit down, stroking the shaft, sending strokes of memory into Jake's mind. Instinct conditioned by millenniums of intercourse prepared the pleasure that was to follow. Millions of vaginas had conditioned his ancestors' instincts and now him. This pumping action told him that he had to come. Told him with the tingling richness undulating through his body, with each stroke and with each breath of excited pleasure, that he would give her everything. It would be hers. Nothing could stop it - nothing.

A flower was blooming inside him, and with each stroke of her lips, the bud opened more. A red blossom that was true to the blood within him - true to the lineage passed on. It opened more slowly, bringing his blood to a head. The head was red like the blooming bud with its petals. "Oh God," Jake shouted. But she could say nothing and didn't need to. He saw the blooms appearing - roses - nice soft succulent red petals opening auspiciously. 

And in Jake's mind, the flower was open, and in his groin was something he could not control. And when his whimpering began, Lalla knew it had begun.

Then she did something that caused some concern. She stopped sucking. "Please don't stop," Jake pleaded. But she got up on her hands and knees and crawled with her breasts swinging and lips smiling towards his. "Please, Lalla, please," he begged.

"I want you inside me," she replied. And she took one of her breasts to pacify Jake and put it up next to his mouth. Knowing he was to come, he opened his mouth and began sucking like an infant. 

"Oh my God," she moaned. "I needed that so much. Jake, you just don't know." And with each suck, she sighed and whimpered as though being fucked.

When the peppery-tasting liquid entered his mouth, Jake felt an energy course through his body as his body identified it immediately and desired more. He felt his dick harden and stiffen between his legs and then lie rigid on his stomach. It was as though she had never stopped sucking him. Waves of pleasure washed through him with a tingling resilience stiffening his whole body into preparation.

As he filled himself with her juices, Lalla reached down and placed his head near her opening. Then she slowly backed down onto it while continuing to let him suck. He raised his knees to facilitate it. He wanted her to start fucking him, but she just waited for him to get his fill. And as he sucked, he felt how hard he was inside her. His rigidity had not diminished in the least, nor the fervor with which he wanted to use it. What was tired and worn in him became brilliant with glowing intensity. She was marinating him gently and slowly.

As a babe, he took her tit out of his mouth and smiled gratefully. "I needed that too," Jake said. All thoughts of a dispute with her emptied from his mind as she rocked back and sat directly on him with her hands on his stomach - thumbs at the navel.

"God, Lalla," he moaned as he penetrated every inch. She began very slow pelvic undulations, slowly rocking his dick inside her. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling of the alcove, her mouth opened, and tears filled her eyes.

"Jake, I missed this so much."

"Oh shit yeah," was all he could say as she slowly kept rocking on his cock. She had a way of contracting her vaginal muscles. "God, keep doing it," he said.

Lalla started pumping him like a cylinder - just short strokes at first and then longer and longer. And with each stroke, they both moaned in relief and began to relax deeply into the rhythm. Surges of joy now crescendoed through him. How could he feel joy? Was there joy?

"Possibly," he thought, "a synthetic joy. Possibly the same joy as a drunk who finds his liquid peace."

"Oh God!" he said. 

"That's right," Lalla replied. "You said it. You said it. You said it." And she kept repeating, "You said it," every stroke, as each of them started gasping for air. 

Jake said, "Oh God."

And Lalla gasped, "You said it." Over and over until her lips stiffened and she was saying it in a stern tone, and her pelvis moved in a quick downward motion and then slowly upward.

Still saying, "You said it."

This contrapuntal chorus continued until Jake lost track of how long they had been doing it. It lasted until they were both screaming. But Lalla's phrase had mutated to "Say it," and Jakes remained, "God." It continued until the rose in Jake's mind had opened up into its full glory, until it beamed its brightest. Until its color-saturated not only itself but Jake in the deepness of his soul. 

"God in fucking heaven!" Jake screamed as the rose bud burst into bloom, as cum pumped through him into her. They both laughed spontaneously, raucously, and as though they had both been drinking together in a bar, finding it hilarious.

About Barclay Totten:

English and History are subjects I have taught in Los Angeles as a transplant from Denver. I love adventures and call the world my home. My stories can be found at tottentales.wordpress.com, and my Twitter handle is @estormzap. Bare Back Magazine has published excerpts from my book LALLA, which is based on my travels in Italy and Tunisia.