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    Default Lara Logan Takes Back the Night

    [Note: This story is a consensual encounter, but it includes vivid flashbacks of rape. If the latter bothers you, for any reason, then read no further.]

    The market bustled with crowds of shrouded old women, bearded old men, and children of all ages,
    countless moving figures brushing past each other and congesting around the stalls that lined the busy market street as far as the eye could see. Thousands of voices argued over prices, and thousands of long shadows mingled and melded in the dusty asphalt below them and the late afternoon sun made their eyes squint and flick.

    Lara Logan breathed a deep, purposeful breath and focused on taking one step with her open-toed leather heels, then another, her shapely bare legs gingerly bearing her body forward while her navy-blue knee-length skirt flapped and swayed upon her thighs.

    One step, then another. She drew a few quick but deep breaths, and under her form-fitting white blouse, her chest rose and fell, revealing the sheer eye-catching curves of her famously bountiful breasts. She looked down, and her lustrous blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she did her best to shut out the panorama of bodies, voices, and wafts of cooked meat, fresh-killed fish, and body odor that assailed her nostrils from all angles.

    “You are safe,” she whispered to herself. “You are safe. You are strong. You are here.”

    Here, of course, was downtown Cairo on a sunny afternoon in May 2016. As opposed to another Cairo—the one she had traversed one night five years prior. A peal of young voices erupted behind her, and a gaggle of young boys raced up the street on her right. None was looking where he was going. And one bumped into Lara. He glanced quickly at her, frowned, and dashed away to where he saw his friends, leaving Lara shaking and gasping. A floodgate opened somewhere in her mind, and a flood of pain and fear spilled into her psyche.

    <I>… Men and boys close in on her. Their forearms shove and swipe at her from all sides. Hands took hold of her blouse and ripped it to shreds. More hands unbuckled her pants and slid them down her hips, just far enough to give their fingers free access to her smooth pussy lips and bountiful ass cheeks that now lay open to the chilly night air.

    She can feel their rough fingers coursing over her skin, pawing at her breasts, grabbing and squeezing her ass cheeks, poking inside…</i>

    Lara shivered. Then tapped her wrist once, twice, a third time. Her mind returned to the present. Tactile therapy, just like Dr. Keegan had taught her. Furtively she glanced about and continued on her way. “They cannot hurt you. You made that decision. That is why you are here,” she reminded herself.

    It was. Five years had passed since the night of Mubarak’s downfall. The night that Lara had so swiftly and suddenly gone from intrepid globetrotting was correspondent to globally recognized rape victim. She had pledged in the days after that life-altering night that what those men did to her would not destroy her, that her best work was yet to come. But it was a taller order than she’d realized. The memories of that night haunted her, creeping up on her at the least expected moments and making her fly into furious rages or shrivel up and weep, one or the other.

    She’d disgraced herself with the 60 Minutes crew over that damned Libya report—no use rehashing who was wrong or right, Lara knew in her heart that if Arab men were at the center of a story, there was just no way she could keep her wits about her, ask all the proper questions, and get the story right; just no fucking way. And forget a healthy sex life with the husband. All he had to do was touch her the wrong way and she was back in that square getting manhandled by 200-plus shouting horny, angry brutes.

    Oh, she’d tried therapy. And the therapists were nice, caring people. But they couldn’t take that night away. Only one thing could, Lara had finally concluded: She’d have to come back to Cairo and take that night away herself. She’d have to confront it. Look at it in the eye. Grab onto it with her bare hands. And so she found herself here, in this market, immersed in Arabic bantering and undulating throngs of Egyptians, not unlike the Egyptians she’d wandered among that February night.

    <I>… She’s naked. Her bare feet are cold on the asphalt, but her back is aflame with lacerations from the flagpoles with which men have thrashed her into submission. And her front, from her neck line down to her knees, is burning red with rising welts where she’s been pinched, grabbed, or rubbed too coarsely. She’s also feeling the added heat of the man whose grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms around her trunk.

    He holds her in a viselike grip, his groin digging into her butt and his breath hot on her ear—and oh yes, his erection is growing. She feels it as he gyrates slowly back and forth against her ass cheeks. While dozens of other hands probe her thighs, her breasts, and oh God now a pair of hands are fondling her pussy.

    Fingertips slide into her canal and begin to rub. They move in circles, touching her vaginal walls’ every crevice, and sliding back to her lips just to slide forward and begin to rub in circles anew. Lara groans, grits her teeth, but her hips are moving, too. Moving to the meet the thrusting fingers in front of her and the grinding erection in behind. And she’s getting wet. Shame and disgust pour over her, she’s feeling the involuntary arousal.

    She groans again, her pussy contracts, and the fingers’ owner crows uproariously and pulls out his hand, revealing to the onlookers that it’s coated with her juices. He laughs at her and puts his fingers to her face, smearing her cheeks. And more hands move in on her loins to take up the stroking …</I>

    “Enough. That’s enough,” she said to herself, her fingertips pressing into her temples. She shook her head and blinked several times. A few elderly women were looking at her with concerned expressions. Her agitation was that visible. Lara sidestepped them and headed for the sidewalk. Off the main street drag--

    <I>… like that street in which she’s now pinned down, two men each clutching an arm while a third one lays on top of her, his pants down around his ankles and his cock buried deep in her pussy. His palms grasp her shoulders and her legs are splayed against his chest while he leans into her and lifts his hips up and down, dragging his rod in and out of her quivering vaginal walls.

    She closes her eyes and thinks of her children. Thinks of letting these men have their way, if it means that she will survive. She must survive. Her children need her. …</I>

    Lara was shaking, her vision was cloudy. She saw the shape of a grove of palm trees up ahead and dove under them. Finding respite under their shady branches, away from the crowds, she clenched and unclenched her fists and breathed deep. And exhaled.

    “Remember why you’re here.”

    A few minutes passed. Lara felt her inner calm returning. She looked around and spied a stall where a young man was unpacking boxes of fruits. And she knew precisely what she needed to do.

    “They want me. Let them have me,” she said to herself. “I’m coming straight for them.”



    Ahmed wiped his brow, his natural olive complexion a tad darker today from seven hours of nonstop laboring in the sunshine. Yet there were six more cartons of fruit to unpack. The farm he kept with his brother, Hakim—who at this moment was taking his lunch break, falafel in hand on a nearby bench—had yielded an abundant harvest. And In’shallah, today’s customers would snatch them up.

    “Fresh fruit!” Ahmed called out to the crowds. “Papayas, figs, melons, grapes. Sweet and ripe! Your taste buds will give thanks.”

    “You’re working hard, I see,” said Lara, who sidled up to Ahmed just then. “Did you grow these, too?”

    “Salaam, madam. And yes, my brother and I tilled the soil and bore this fruit with our own hands.”

    Lara smiled. “You’re good with your hands. I can tell. Good at holding things that are sweet, and firm, and ripe.”

    Ahmed’s brow furrowed. Was this American woman coming onto him? “Yes, madam, we work very hard to bring our fruit to you.”

    Lara pursed her lips and smiled again, more mischievously. “Well, I’ll have you know that my taste buds long to taste many things.”

    Ahmed’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not talking about fruit any longer, are we, madam?”

    Lara smiled wider and shook her head. “Mm-mm. And please, call me Lara.”

    “What then are we talking about?”

    Lara leaned in and clasped his palm in hers, slipping him a card. He glanced at it and saw the address of a nearby Marriott Hotel. On the other side was, in pen, “1222.”

    Lara leaned in further. And as he breathed in the whiff of a perfume mingled with just the hint of feminine sweat, Lara whispered into his ear: “That card is my hotel. My room number is on the back. Meet me there in an hour, and you’ll find out.”

    And with a turn and a wave, she was on her way. “Is that man on the bench with you?” she asked and, seeing Ahmed nod, she replied, “Bring him with you.”

    Ahmed stood transfixed, watching her graceful backside disappear into the masses on the street. Hakim clapped a hand on his shoulder. “What was that about?” Hakim asked.

    “Hakim, help me pack up the fruits and load the truck. Today, we are closing early.”



    The crowds thinned as Lara made her way out of the bazaar and onto a quiet side street leading back to her hotel. Lara reached out her arms, stretched, and breathed a satisfied gust of fresh air. She was out of the crowds, and the sudden freedom of movement energized her.

    Yet she wasn’t alone.

    A scattering of locals hung about along the sidewalk. Mostly men. Mostly young. And mostly intrigued by this blonde, pretty female presence that had decided to stroll up their street. Lara saw their eyes roam her body, could almost touch and smell the lustful thoughts she knew were running wild in their brains. In their eyes, her clothes were disappearing fast, and her thighs were opening wide to take them and be taken.

    Danger, Lara thought to herself, as her heart sped up and a fluttering feeling sifted in her tummy. Her eyes lowered, and her lips opened a crack—and turned, ever so slightly upwards, into the hint of a smile. Yes, she felt unsafe. And alive. So fucking alive.

    Yes, the warzone It Girl was back, and loving it. The Lara who traipsed through war zones and sought out the juice and guts of a real story. The Lara who was at home among the soldiers, the militants, and fed off their courage and—let’s face it---their unbridled male energy. Yes, there was danger. Life was danger. And here, in this moment, Lara had decided to live.

    She spied him in an open doorway. His brawny arms reached the top and he hung, leaning his body out onto the stoop. He caught sight of Lara and it was like he saw nothing else. His dark eyes were hard-frozen onto the contours of her bountiful breasts. Lara strode closer, and he ogled her behind, nearly hypnotized by the sway of its meaty, inviting haunches. His lips puckered and made kissing noises as she passed him.

    And she turned back. “Like what you see?” she whispered.

    “What?” he grunted. At a loss for words, he was, she mused.

    “Don’t act like I don’t notice. You find me attractive. It’s okay. I know I’m sexy,” she replied, a faint smile on her lips.

    “Too sexy to be walking around these streets by yourself. Where is your husband? Or do you not have one?” he said.

    “I do. And where is he? Too far away to stop me.”

    “She doesn’t even cover her head,” said another male voice to her left. Lara quickly glanced over and spotted another male figure. Another draft horse of a body, though with just a little pudge over the muscles. Big teddy bear body, though Lara could see a ravenous look in his eyes, too. And she knew he would like to do more than cuddle. “I know the type of woman you are. Western whore. Do you know what we do to women like you?”

    Lara’s heart rate was racing like a bullet train. But she stood her ground. “More than you think, young fellow. And you do not scare me.”

    “Ooh, you’re seeking trouble,” the male to her left said.

    “Or maybe I am trouble,” she replied, smiling wider. And she stepped toward him and put a hand to his chest. “My name is Lara. And do you see that tall white building over there? That’s my hotel. I’m going over there. And you two are coming with me. You want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

    He stared, dumbfounded.

    “I take that as a yes,” she replied. “Now first, show some manners and tell me your names.”

    “Abdul,” he answered in a subdued voice. “And he is Hamza.”

    “Enchanted to meet you two. Now, come along.”

    And to her hotel she continued. Hamza left the doorway and followed close behind. Abdul glanced at Lara, and glanced at Hamza, and he joined them, shaking his head and mouthing to himself, “Allahu Akbar. God ... is … good."

    ...

    The setting sun’s lazy red haze shone through a narrow crack in the drawn maroon curtains. Ahmed and Hakim stepped into the hotel room, nodding uncertainly at the third young Arab man who had just opened the door for them and let them in. A fourth man sat at one of two matching maroon leather chairs near the window.

    But their eyes were on him for only a second. Commanding their full attention was the bed with the plump white pillows and plush brown comforter. And the salivating figure of Lara, who reclined atop it, her shoulders and arms nestled into the pillows and a skimpy dark-green sleeveless nightgown hugging her body from her ample breasts down to her knees. The reporter’s shapely calves and tender bare feet lay stretched out toward the foot of the bed.

    “Nice of you two to drop by,” she said, beaming. “Ahmed and Hakim, say hello to Abdul and Hamza. You might as well all learn each other’s names. You’re about to get very well acquainted.”

    Hakim looked about the room, back toward his brother and to the two other men. His half-cocked eyebrows and pursed lips made Lara momentarily chuckle. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

    “No, I do not. Can you tell me?”

    She shrugged and lifted herself up just far enough to grasp a half-filled glass of wine by her bed. Just then, the two brothers noticed the opened wine bottle. “Have a drink, gents?” Lara asked.

    Ahmed and Hakim, being good Muslims at heart, both shook their heads. Hamza evidently had no such compulsions. He rose from his chair and lifted the bottle to his lips to take a hearty swig and clank it back down onto the table with an “ahh.”

    She turned, and her legs slid down off the bed. And she took a few slow, graceful steps toward the two seated men. “Well, Abdul and Hamza, pray tell, why do you suppose you all are here?”

    Abdul grinned like a cheshire cat and patted his knee. Lara took up the invitation and climbed up onto his lap. Her arms stretched out and landed gracefully onto his shoulders, and her eyes locked on his. Her motion was slow, as were her words. “I want you… to fuck me. Hard… Can you do that?” She bit her lower lip and gazed at him with wide, hungry eyes, awaiting his response.

    No words needed, Abdul’s right hand shot up and grabbed her under the chin. He pulled her face onto his, and they locked lips in an open-mouthed, full-throated kiss. His tongue drank deeply of hers, and her lips closed and unclosed on his. The three other men watched as her eyes closed and she fell forward, her lips enveloping Abdul’s again and again while her neck dipped forward and back.

    Abdul’s hands were on her hips, then her back. They found her breasts and squeezed firmly, making her squeal and jump in his lap. They moved down her sides and found the hem of her nightgown and slowly began to roll it up and lift it up off her body. Ahmed and Hakim watched, mesmerized, as the crack of her ass appeared before them, then the arching plane of her lower back. She raised her arms up over her head, and up the gown went, past her shoulders and finally lifting free of her arms. Abdul flung it over his shoulder and buried his head in the warm, massive pillows of her bare breasts.

    Lara breathed a deep, lusty intake of air and arched her back sharply as Abdul bit gently on one nipple and began to tease it with his tongue.

    He lapped away, and she lowered her head and pressed her bosom tightly into him. Her soft, supple flesh engulfed his face, and he grunted with approval as his hands returned to her lower back and pulled her in closer.

    Hamza pulled off his own shirt and joined in the action, taking one hand and running it up and down Lara’s spine. She shifted her shoulders and flexed her back, apparently pleased with his ministrations. Then his hands cupped her ass cheeks and rubbed them, savoring their thick, soft mounds. And then his fingers found the valley of her ass crack. He poked a finger into her rectum and stroked. She squealed with pleasure again and squirmed in Abdul’s lap.

    Encouraged, Hamza took up a rhythmic sawing motion in and out of her hole. Lara’s squirming sped up into robust gyrations, her haunches swaying back to every forward push of his finger. With each finger retraction, she’d shift forward—right into Abdul’s groin, where she felt a rising bulge of what she could tell was a very hefty cock.

    Then Abdul rose, lifted Lara up in his arms, and lay her on the floor as he shucked off his pants. Hamza lost his trousers, too. Lara sat up and saw both men’s dicks raised full-mast and pointing straight at her lips. And she opened her mouth to let Hamza slide his cock through to the hilt. Her lips enclosed tightly his rock-hard rod and slid back across it, dropping off the head with a loud “plop,” before she opened her lips and took his full length into her mouth again. Her right hand went for his ball sack and began to massage them as she continued her slow, purposeful sucking of his cock.

    Her other hand went for Abdul’s bulging member and clutched it, and her palm and fingertips began to shimmy up and down its length, coaxing it to a fuller and hotter erection second by second. Then Abdul grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and yanked her face toward him. She briefly let her lips off of Hamza and took Abdul’s cock into her mouth.

    Her right hand stayed on Hamza’s balls, though, and then inched up onto his cock and picked up where her lips had let off, stroking him faster and faster. The swish-swish-swish of her palm on his rod was intense enough to reach Abdul’s ears. As was the groans of excited pleasure Hamza let escape from his mouth.

    Lara momentarily paused and looked over her shoulder. Ahmed and Hakim stood by behind her with their clothes still on, obviously awaiting further instructions. She grinned, raised a hand and flapped her fingertips at them, coaxing them forward. They took the hint and stripped away their garb, in turn.

    Lara returned to Hamza’s cock, this time poking and prodding it with her tongue. Her tongue tip ticked at Hamza’s ball sack, and he felt his knees nearly buckle under him. Allah be praised, this woman was an angel of paradise. Her left hand kept Abdul content with a fast, hardy rubbing of his member.

    Hakim reached down and grasped at her breasts, cupping the soft mounds in his hands. His fingertips landed on her nipples and gave them a gentle squeeze and then another, on and on. He could feel her breathing grow quicker and harsher and the nipples rise up into hard points against his palms.

    Abdul loomed over Lara’s left, and her mouth left Hamza and engulfed Abdul’s cock. Her cheeks hollowed and her lips clenched as she bobbed her head up and down into and out of his groin, her tongue and palate working his cock into a frenzy with powerful suck action. Her hands jerked frenetically at Hamza and Abdul’s dicks, and they surged up and out underneath her fingertips’ hot friction.

    Hamza put a hand to the back of her head and pushed her towards him, clearly hankering for a turn with her mouth. She obliged and lifted her mouth off of Abdul’s dick, a string of her spit briefly stretching out from her sopping-wet lips to Hamza’s equally-sopping-wet rod. The string popped and her lips landed with a sloppy kiss onto Hamza’s cock. Her tongue left her lips and went to work lapping at his stiffening cock. And as it poked her nose and cheeks, she opened her mouth and took it in as her tongue enclosed it in a warm, slobbery embrace.

    Hakim, meanwhile, took a turn at fingering her asshole. She twitched against his hand as he sawed in and out, pushing hard—his fingers were thick. Lara didn’t seem to mind the intrusion and pushed back into him, letting his fingertips reach deep as it would go. His other fingers crept forward and found her pussy lips. And with a little more wriggling of his hands and some encouraging wiggling of Lara’s hips, these other fingers slid inside.

    Hakim clenched his fingers into a pincer and began to wind them in and out of her two canals. “Mmmmm,” Lara moaned through mouthfuls of cock—Abdul’s, Hamza’s, or Ahmed’s, or all of them; Lara’s lips leapt from one to the other and back, giving each one ample attention. Hakim felt a dribble of Lara’s fluids moisten his fingers and knew he was doing it right.

    Then Abdul spoke a few words in Arabic to Ahmed, who nodded and took hold of one of Lara’s arms. Abdul took the other, and the two men guided her up off the floor and onto the bed. Abdul jumped in next to her and lay down on his back, patting his crotch with one hand. Lara smiled, taking the hint, and climbed up onto his legs, and then lowered herself onto his very erect—and very big, at least nine inches by her reckoning—cock.

    His cock was a thick one, too, and its head met some resistance at her pussy lips. Lara grabbed onto it and guided the head through. An inch, then another, and finally, she exhaled sharply and dropped down onto him with a thud. He was in.

    Lara rose up and back down, back up and back down. Her hands gripped his muscled chest and her eyes closed as she lolled her head to the right and the left, her blonde locks flapping against her slender shoulders. “Ooh… ooh yes … ooh yes yes yes yes yes,” she cooed.

    She didn’t say much more, though, because at that moment Hamza stepped up onto the bed and, with one hand against the wall for balance, stepped over to Lara. He took her hair in one hand and led her mouth back onto his cock.

    His dick slid in over her tongue, tapping the back of her throat only a second before Lara’s head nodded up and away, her lips pulling back over his cock. Her hips were bucking faster and faster against Abdul’s, and her head bobbed up and down with them, but her mouth kept its tight grip on the cock inside it and kept up its hot, saliva-laden caress.

    ...

    Minutes rolled by, and Hamza reached his limit. His cock throbbed, he groaned, and Lara opened her mouth wide and stretched out her tongue for what she knew was coming. Hamza’s seed spilled out onto her palate. She smacked her lips and gulped, swallowing it all.

    Just then, Hakim, ever the ass man, crawled up into bed behind them. He gripped her waist and flung himself forward. His dick met her ass crack. Lara leaned down onto Abdul’s chest to give Hakim some wiggle room, and he used it to the max, his cock head shoving up against her anus for a few seconds and then diving in. Her ass cheeks clenched his cock with a death grip, and he shoved forward. “Oh, shit!” Lara yelped. And gritted her teeth.

    <i>… She’s on all fours. A man is plowing in and out of her ass. More flagpoles are landing with loud cracks on her back and shoulders, drawing more blood. …</I>

    She shook her head and squeezed Abdul’s pecs further. Dammit, this was her night now. That mob had no power over her anymore. With an “rrgh” she humped even more furiously against Abdul and asrched her back, accentuating her upward thrusts to meet each downward thrust of Hakim into her ass. He burned, he was rough, but she was reveling in the rough, raw burns.

    Her faster and faster bucking only brought Abdul to climax that much faster. She saw him stare into her eyes with intense heat and felt his cock quiver inside her. And she nodded to him. “I’m on the pill, go ahead,” she said. He let himself go and burst forth a tidal wave of hot cum into her womb. Hakim wasn’t far behind. Lara bucked her hips onto his for another minute and then he spewed another wave of semen, coating the walls of her rectum.

    Now Ahmed was on the bed. He flipped her onto her back and scooted in between her legs. His brawny arms took up her legs, draping one up over his shoulder and wrapping the other one around his waist. And he surged forward and rushed his cock straight through her pussy. His hands resting on her tummy, he began to thrust in and out of her. His powerful body made her legs bounce against him with every forward motion of his hips. Lara threw her head back and gave herself over to the motions. “ohh… ohh… oh, fuck!” She thrust into him as her whole body shook and a hot wave of her own juices drenched Ahmed and the sheets under him. Yet he went on sliding in and out of her, bringing more sounds of pleasure from the very stimulated Lara and a constant rumble-rumble of the bed posts below them.

    Hamza was back, ready for round two. He climbed onto Lara’s chest and placed his cock smack-dab between the mounds of her big bountiful breasts. Lara took her hands and squeezed her breasts in over it, cushioning it within their plush fleshy pillows. And Hamza put a hand to the wall and began to thrust. His hips rocked her body up and down. Lara’s head tossed back and forth, her hair flying every which way, as her tongue darted in and out, its tip catching Hamza’s cock head and giving it a welcoming lick.

    He quickened his pace and roared with lust. Another volley of cum was building up in him, and he shoved her hands away and stuffed his cock into her mouth just in time for his cum to burst like a firehose down through her lips. Again, she took his seed and let it course down her throat. He dropped off her, exhausted, while she licked her lips and went on moving back and forth into Ahmed’s trunk.

    Ahmed stood back up and leaned over her. He was ready for more, too. She took his cock in her hand and jerked it with a furious, frenzied pace. Hakim moved in on her right, and her free hand took to jerking his cock some more. She and Abdul were both panting by now, sweat rolling down each of their chests. Her legs tightened around his body and she pulled him into her to the hilt, and her loins quivered, as his quivered.

    “Oh, God, oh God yes, oh yes yes yes yes YES!” she cried out and drenched the sheets under her again with her second orgasm of the night. And just as she did, the two men she was jerking off fell forward, and their cocks almost simultaneously let loose with blasts of cum that streaked across her chest, her cheeks, and her hair.

    The three men, all spent, plunked down onto the sheets around her. Hamza lay back in one of the chairs and puffed on a cigarette. Lara simply smiled, wiped a dab of cum from her cheek, and basked in the oxytocin afterglow and the body heat radiating from the three male bodies around her. And she closed her eyes for a blissful sleep. She had truly taken back the night.

  2. #2
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