revolutionists, dedicated to overthrowing the present Lebanese regime. They were total pacifists, their strict adherence to the Moslem religion making it impossible for them to conceive of using violence in furthering their cause. Ahmed and Mustafa planned a peaceful but nonetheless triumphant rebellion: using the weapons of propaganda and preaching, attacking the Government from within by persuading its higher officials that their methods of ruling the country were more idealistic, more worthy and more practical than those currently in operation…
Needles to say, their pathetic and foredoomed programme was tolerated with great amusement by everyone who came into contact with the brothers. Only a tiny lunatic fringe believed that they had any chance of success; and the Government officials who listened to their soap-box orations or read their earnest (but fundamentally quite ridiculous) pamphlets gleefully shared the joke with their colleagues and superiors… until, before long, Ahmed and Mustafa had become the laughing-stock of middle- and upper-class Beirut. In certain quarters of the city one had only to mention their names to be confident of producing a knowing smile-or a burst of merriment.
Doggedly undeterred by this degrading reception, the brothers continued to press their case for revolution and reforms.
They were young, light-skinned Arabs; attractive to European tastes, and possessing those large, soulfully expressive brown eyes which are capable of charming the most prejudiced of English matrons. Despite their ill- starred and impractical dream, Ahmed and Mustafa had enough commonsense to realise that their physical appearance and their undoubted sexual prowess could be of assistance to them: namely, that they could use their charm and their handsome, well-built bodies to gain funds for their cause…
Neither of the brothers were above prostituting themselves for the sake of their beliefs. And they catered willingly to the many tourists who flocked to Beirut in the summer months, even providing female company for the men (and the lesbians!) who preferred the body of a ripe, athletic young girl. Her name was Darena. She was one of the few loyal friends the brothers had left, committed to their peaceful revolution, with as great a fervour as Ahmed and Mustafa…
When they first set eyes on Lisa, the trio hesitated. She was so young-surely she didn't have the means to make a contribution to their funds? But word reached their ears that the girl's father was a wealthy London businessman-and that Lisa herself was only too eager for new sexual experiences!
They waited no longer. One late afternoon, as the sun was beginning its slow descent, staining the horizon a bloody, glorious crimson, the trio converged on Lisa as she was making her way to a favourite, secluded little cove. The girl, picking her sandelled feet carefully among the sharp rocks on the final slope to the sandy beach, didn't notice them. She hummed softly under her breath, her hair flowing freely over her bare shoulders-long and bleached to a beautiful honey-blonde after her long sojourn in this sunny climate. The sand was still hot beneath her feet, though the dying rays of the sun were fast-fading. Lisa slipped out of her pink cotton dress and deftly unfastened her bra. She had a deep tan which covered every inch of her body: nude sun-bathing bronzing her breasts and buttocks so that there were no unsightly patches of white anywhere on her flesh.
Leaving her few clothes in a pile on the beach, Lisa skipped happily into the warm sea, splashing waist-deep through the gentle waves and then lying blissfully on her back-floating easily on the buoyant water, the tips of her breasts protruding above the clear surface and shimmering as they were lapped in a caressing motion by the sea.
The slow-setting sun was still providing a beautiful red glow over the beach when Lisa eventually emerged from the water. She shook her head quickly, spraying salt droplets from her hairs, and then flinging herself face- down onto the soft white sand. Only now, as their elongated shadows stretched out across her, did Lisa realise that she was no longer alone…
“Forgive us,” Ahmed smiled. The first thing Lisa noticed about him was the dazzling whiteness of his teeth. She was startled-but only for a moment. The strangers were obviously harmless; their voices cultivated, their European clothes and their gentle manner calming her initial anxiety, and she returned the young man's friendly salaam by raising her own arm in the ancient greeting gesture.
“You may possibly have heard about our little organisation', Ahmed said tentatively, offering Lisa a neatly printed card and a pamphlet printed in Arabic and English. “Please-could you be so kind as to glance at this humble booklet? It tells about our aims, our ambitions.. ”
Lisa took the pamphlet and opened it curiously. After scanning the wordy introduction, she immediately placed the 'organisation'-recalling several recent cocktail parties where the pathetic political movement had been subjected to cruel ridicule. Glancing up at the two young men-and at the lovely Arab girl who stood politely behind them-Lisa felt a sudden compassion for their futile but sincerely-held beliefs. She saw the burning religious intensity in their soft brown eyes, and was brought close to tears by her realisation that they, at least, had a purpose to their lives: however misguided it might be. Whereas Lisa herself…
She was overcome by a wave of self-pitying emotion. Ahmed and Mustafa were taking turns to explain why they had approached her, but Lisa caught only the gist of their hesitant, bashful appeal for a contribution to their cause. Abruptly, the pleasant, carefree afternoon had changed for her. She desperately wanted to become a part of some meaningful society, her whole being aching to belong-to believe in some kind of future.
Without any further prompting, Lisa volunteered to give them half of the allowance she received from her father each month: adding quickly that she would feel honoured to assist them in any other way possible!
Ahmed and Mustafa stared at each other with astonishment. Such generosity was staggering! The girl must surely be mad? But they couldn't afford to lose this amazing benefactress, and after exchanging a brief nod, the brothers prepared to show their gratitude in a tangible, perfectly natural manner…
Lisa had forgotten that she was lying naked in full view of the Arabs; although her lack of modesty in this respect was scarcely unusual. However, she was taken aback-in her present mood of quiet meditation-when Ahmed and Mustafa began to remove their clothes and then, settling themselves closely beside her, put their hands on her shoulders and started to stroke gently towards the warm flesh of her spine!
Lisa stiffened warily. But the movement of their fingers, gliding so carefully, so soothingly down her back was like the whisper of a dove's feathers across her skin. She allowed her body to relax, sensing the gratitude which the two young men felt and understanding that they wished to express it in this unusual but very pleasant fashion. Lisa closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the fine-grained sand. She sighed as their hands passed the sensitive small of her back, feeling the long, supple brown fingers petting sweetly across the dimpled cleavage of her bottom-and then quickly moving upwards again, as if they were ashamed of their own daring!
Lying full-length on either side of the girl's naked body, Ahmed and Mustafa admired her beautiful figure with their hands and their eyes; nodding appreciatively to one another as they silently remarked on the wonderful smoothness of the girl's flesh. Encouraged by her passivity, the brothers grew bolder. Their fingers now travelled over Lisa's buttocks, stroking the full, well-tanned cheeks and then sliding down to the backs of her thighs: fondling the lusciously curving muscles and gently easing the limbs apart.
Her skin was still moist and salty from the sea, and Lisa could feel the grains of sand clinging to the front of her body as she pressed herself voluptuously down; her breasts and belly coated with the sticky white particles. A few grains had also adhered to her buttocks, and Mustafa carefully brushed them away before he fondled the globes open and began to caress his fingers lightly into the hot, dark furrow of the girl's bum-crease.
She felt the Arab's hand resting firmly on her open arse now, wedging the cheeks with his palm so that they remained in a widely-spaced position. Lisa wriggled slightly, easing the pleasant tickling which prickled through her body. She moved her thighs until they were lasciviously well-parted: allowing Mustafa to slide his fingers over the pouting cleft of her cunt, the lips sagging opening in a sigh which released the warm breath of her love-juice.
Very slowly, Mustafa explored the outer flesh of the girl's sex. He rubbed both of Lisa's quim-flaps, massaging the puffy pink labia with a tenderness that made her writhe in quick passion-the spasmodic clenching of her buttocks holding Mustfa's hand firmly in place, the plump brown spheres closing tightly and straining to meet despite the firm obstacle which was in their path.
Ahmed, meanwhile, seeing that his brother had commandeered the most exciting region of the girl's body, had to be content with Lisa's breasts. He worked his nearest hand beneath her chest, burrowing into the sand and making a hollow so that his arm could stretch comfortably under her and his fingers could cup her sand-smothered titties with ease. Ahmed pressed one of the soft, fleshy orbs, tightening his hand until the globe assumed a delicious pear-shape. He fondled it lovingly, rubbing the hard little nipple up and down-pushing it against the sand until the rose bud was stimulated to a complete erection. With his free hand, the Arab stroked Lisa's neck; moving his fingers in a coaxing, skilful massage… behind her ears, along her nape, through the shining strands of her long
