The first nearly 50 chapters of a story that has led to this one that I've written were completed by Jay Benson. His story was named, “The Customer: Dexter’s Saga”. Circumstances in 2020 caused him to discontinue writing. Upon my asking his permission to continue and conclude the saga in 2025, he graciously consented. That has led to “Jessie’s Saga”.
New Information
Haroun is waiting outside of the limousine inside the hangar as the plane he had sent for me pulls into it. This surprises me. It also gives me something of a rush and makes me proud.
“My Caliph! Greetings!” I bow low and then we embrace, kissing each other on each cheek. He motions me to get into the car. Once I sit down and the chauffeur closes the door, leaving the two of us in the glassed-off private back seat, I tell him, “I have been thinking on the plane, My Master, how complimented I feel that you have honored me and my wife by selecting the name for our son, not yet even born. Thank you so much for showing this care for us.”
“My boy,” Haroun says, “It is my pleasure to do so. He is in the bloodline of the Prophet due to your adoption by Yethro . . . and that might be important in positions he might hold later in his life. So, a name like ‘Hamza’ is appropriate. I did not want to miss the opportunity to make that happen.”
“I had not thought of its significance in the way that you point out. You are, of course, correct. I do hope that my son will shine as a Muslim leader someday.”
“And, what about you, my boy – whether as a leader or not – but as a strong Muslim man?”
“Ah, My Caliph. You strike a note of much internal strife for me. Your imam who is teaching me daily is a great and devout teacher. He has led me far and I have learned much. I am still not to a point where I can make the honest conversion that would be necessary for it not to be a sham, though. I can honestly tell you – as soon as I am firm that Islam is my path - I will be reciting the Shahada in your presence, My Caliph.
He asks me, “How did you leave your wife, Ronnie? In tears?”
“Yes, My Caliph. But not hers only.”
“I appreciate that you have not resisted my requiring your presence here with me, Jessie.”
“Indeed, My Master, I could not but obey. Ronnie knows that, too. It is hard for both of us, but it is necessary. We know that.”
“My boy, I will confess that I, too, have been lonesome for your body. You have skills that are rare among men!”
I laugh and say, “I must remind you of that training I had forced on me by a master of an Arab brothel owner who introduced me for the first time into servicing males! He left no detail wanting.”
“I can attest to that. He did an outstanding job when he trained you as a courtesan.”
“Well, My Caliph. I guess I know what is on tonight’s agenda then! I anticipate it. I cannot wait to see your naked body and feel its warmth next to mine, My Master. Look what the thought of it is doing to me?” I spread my legs a bit and the tent in the middle of my jalabiya is evident. We both laugh . . . and he takes hold of it and fondles it through the cloth.
As soon as my bags have been delivered to my room, I open the one with the black mesh underwear in it. I remove all my clothes and put them on and then add only the jalabiya. I go to his room and knock gently. “Enter”, I hear. He is seated on his plush couch. I close the door behind myself and lock it. I go to him and kneel in front of him, then prostrate myself with my arms out cross-like.
My Caliph tells me, “Stand, my boy. Remove your robe.” When I do so and thus reveal myself naked but for the gift he gave me, the smile on his face broadens and he says, “I approve! I approve! Someone has good taste for your clothing!”
“Indeed, someone does, My Master!”
I kneel again and place my hand in his crotch, taking hold of the hard rod I feel there. I play with it gently until it cannot get harder. I lift the front of his garment and reveal his leaking circumcised cock. I lean in to kiss it and then lick the precum from it. I kiss his balls, and then I take the head of his hard cock into my mouth and just suckle it, occasionally rolling my tongue around it. Coming off his head, I begin to lick first one side and the other of his long shaft, and then its top and bottom before placing my mouth over its head and then suddenly devouring its whole length into my throat all in one lunge forward. I hear a gasp, but I waste no time in starting to hum around his cockhead lodged in my throat. I hear, “Ahhhh Ahhhhh, Ahhhhh, Ohhhh, Ohh, Ohh, Yessss!” I smile and with my other hand I reach into the black mesh underwear and pull my hard cock and very low hanging balls over its waist band to masturbate them as I serve My Caliph.
We play for about a half hour, and then he says, “I want to take your asshole, boy.”
I stand and move to the end of the couch. I know from experience that he wants me leaning over it so that my hole is at just the right height for him to take me. He stands behind me, and slowly – ever so slowly – enters me. I am moaning. As he passes my prostate, my body jerks but he just continues all the way until the base of his strong cock is stopped completely inside my chute. Then, My Caliph begins to move in and out, slowly in and out. After ten minutes or so, he picks up the pace, and after pounding me with many howls from each of us, he thrusts hard in and stops. I feel him arching his body backwards . . . and then, “Ahhhhhh, Ahhhhhhh, Ahhhhhh,” as My Caliph seeds his servant.
He stands me up with his hard cock still in me and guides me through the doorway to his bed. We lie down. Neither of us wants the coupling to be over . . . so we stay thus until we fall asleep.
The next day, I begin my regular, truly quite mundane, set of tasks. Actually, I am bored. Nothing new is presented to me to do. No emergencies have occurred during my absence to be resolved. Nor are there any even little tidbits of information that would make Phil happy.
(But - This makes me happy. Shouldn’t it irritate me, annoy me? Yes – it should . . . but I do not want to betray My Caliph, whom I’m growing to respect so much.)
The next many months and their rotations of me in and out of the Middle East are uneventful and downright boring. Part of this is because I’m so totally caught up in the waiting game for my son’s birth. It’s time for me to return to Ronnie, and it’s three weeks till her due date. My Caliph has asked me to meet him midmorning in his office.
“My boy, Jessie. Ahh. The time approaches for your son’s birth. Finally, another member of the Prophet’s blood line will join us. Who knows what part he might someday play in our plans for the American caliphate?
“Rather than stay in the States a week and return, just to leave here almost immediately, this time just stay with Ronnie and Yethro until the birth . . . and for the agreed upon three months after that, too.”
“My Master! Oh, My Caliph! Thank you! Thank you so much! That will be wonderful. This way, if the baby arrives early, I will be there. I’ve been thinking about that possibility and fearful if it were to happen. Now, the load of that worry is off of my shoulders!”
I am to leave tomorrow, but I am going to surprise Ronnie with this news that I don’t have to leave her again till three months after the baby’s born . . . no return in just one week this time. I can’t wait to see the look in her eyes when I tell her.
It has become My Caliph’s habit to have his own plane take me back and forth. The first time, he arranged that rental service, but not again. So, I know the pilots now, and they know me. We get along well. I think they are a little frightened to be too personal with me . . . since they know that the Caliph has come to consider me his number two. That is a fuckin’ big deal for all the people around me. I try not to put on any airs, though. I’m trying to be normal and down to earth with the two pilots.
We are taking off in the wee hours of the morning here in the desert to arrive local time in the morning tomorrow. Rashid will meet me this time. I’ve gotten so used to this routine, that now I can sleep quite well in the plane and arrive ready for a rather normal day my first one back each time. As the plane taxis into the hangar (it’s always inside that I enter or leave the plane – privacy is important), I see that Rashid is standing alongside his car. He’s upgraded. He has a brand new sporty looking convertible. Is he letting his money go to his head?
We greet each other first with the obligatory kisses to the cheeks, and now we hug. I’ve always liked him, but over my last few rotations, I’ve looked forward more to seeing him than I did before. If this rotating business just goes on and on, he might end up having a big hand in the raising of my son. Well - there’s one thing that would mean. My son won’t have any of his father’s wondering about whether Islam is his path or not. It just will be. Everyone around him will be practicing Muslims . . . and when I’m home, I’ll be going to mosque with them and saying the prayers and all. He won’t even know that I’m not one . . . unless – maybe – by then I will be.
Ronnie and I have developed a routine for my returns . . . just as Haroun and I have done on the other end. Both ends involve big time sex! I always anticipate my arrivals! And so it is tonight. Once we are naked and in bed with neither of us planning on getting to sleep right away – I give Ronnie the great news.
I say, “Ronnie. I don’t have to go back to the headquarters until three months after our son is born!”
“What?! Am I hearing you right? You are HERE till he is three months old? That is unbelievable, my beloved! You are HERE . . . really HERE. Oh! I am so, so happy!”
“As am I, my beloved wife . . . as am I! We have not had such an amount of time with one another all at once since before the Caliph called me to be his aide. We won’t know how to act.”
“Oh, Jessie – we will have someone new commanding us how to act . . . and something tells me that we will not be sleeping all that much anymore, either!”
We laugh and wrap our arms around one another. I am happy. Really happy.
Three weeks on, and right on schedule, Ronnie’s gone into labor and is at the hospital. I’m in the delivery room with her. Everything’s going as it should and she’s doing fine.
I’m a Dad! Hamza is 7 lbs. and healthy.
_______________________________________________________________________________
“Caliph. Thank you very much for consenting to this unusual meeting and for allowing me to see you in secrecy. As you know, I am one of the mostly secret converts to Islam who are working inside the U.S. government. In my case, I am on the staff of the Director of National Intelligence.”
“Yes. I determined all of that and more before granting my consent for your visit. At first, I thought that it might be a hoax . . . or even a plot to do me physical ill. I can never be too careful. But – in your job, you know that very well. Now, though, let us – as you Americans say – ‘get down to business’. Tell me exactly what has brought you all this way . . . and at your own personal expense. You mentioned that to avoid suspicion, you are to all intents and purposes simply ‘on vacation’.”
“Sir. This is most difficult for me. In a briefing at which I was present, the president shared with my boss that he has long had a deeply embedded spy ‘in the very household of the Muslim Caliph in the Sinai’. As you can imagine, I listened extraordinarily carefully to all that followed. The president mentioned that the agent’s name was ‘Jessie Benson’. But then he added that he had been adopted by a Muslim, the governor of a U.S. state, and that his name now is ‘Jessie ibn Allwadii’!
“Nooo! No! I cannot believe that! This has to be a defamatory plot laid purposely by the president and your boss. They must have uncovered your identity and are using you -unwittingly on your part.”
“Sir. I understand your reaction and suspicion completely. I, too, wondered whether I might be being used. Of course, I mentioned nothing and did not show any shock or surprise. Later, while at work, I quietly researched Mr. Benson. It was hard to do this without using computers, but I could not risk leaving a digital trail. Bit by bit, over more than a year of looking at public library press reports from Governor Allwadii’s state, I found out bits of information. On one occasion when Jessie was with the governor at a reception in D.C. with the president, it was noted in an article that a person in the Homeland Security office – a Phillip Green – was something of a chaperone for the event as far as Mr. Benson was concerned. In another event, I noted that Mr. Green was again associated with him. This got me to thinking that he just might be a good candidate for a spy handler. I continued searching offline and at public libraries - but now about Mr. Green. Finally, I found a reference to Mr. Green on lists of visitors to Canada for dates that corresponded to the weeks prior to and after a ‘Jessie Benson’ appeared for a short trip there. I have not been able to secure any further specifics, Sir. However, it all seems to me to be suspicious enough to at least bring it to your attention. Maybe it will make more sense to you.”
“Mr. Wilkerson . . . this is all very disturbing. I do not want to believe it. I will, of course, take all the documentation that you have provided and investigate it myself. If I find any overlap between the information that you have supplied and any other information or events that might point to its accuracy, I will act on it. You, of course, will never know more about it. I adjure you to remain absolutely silent about this. If there turns out to be no objective basis for it, it would be most damaging were it to be the subject of rumors. Be assured, though, that I am both impressed and grateful to you for your work and your concern for our caliphate. I will not forget your name, Mr. Wilkerson.”
Following this, the Caliph contacted another of his Muslim convert agents in Washington – this one in the CIA. He told him on their secure phone line that he wanted him quietly to investigate all contacts by an agent possibly named Phillip Green. He noted that it was probably an alias name. He wanted to know all that there was to know about this agent’s work and contacts. The Caliph gave his contact no further details. He was simply asking for information.
To be continued.
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