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Hafida the MoroccanThis is the story of my ex-wife, Hafida, whom I had married following atrip to her small home town in the south of Morocco. After reading this,you may think I’m being spiteful, but what the hell! She was no sainteither!We had only been married a few days when I found her arguing vehementlywith her younger sister, Amina. Now, if Hafida is a quiet, seemingly shygirl, then by comparison, Amina is a mouse! I was very surprised then,when I found them engaged in a heated argument! I managed to quieten themdown, but only by threatening all sorts of mayhem. Hafida stormed out ofthe room, muttering and swearing, leaving me alone with the younger sister.Amina motioned me to sit down, and then, using her best (very broken!)French she managed to relate to me the reason why I had, at forty two,managed to marry her sister, an extremely beautiful twenty four year oldArab girl.The cause of the argument was that Hafida had confided in Amina and hadtold her that she had married me solely to get out of Morocco, and get aEuropean passport. She intended to leave me and find a nice young Arab guyonce she had obtained said passport. Amina, apparently, had grown to likeme in the three weeks I had been staying with the family, and was outragedthat her sister was using me so badly. Needless to say, I was shocked bythis revelation, but even so, as I thought the situation through, I wasstill getting quite a good deal! Hafida, apart from being heart stoppinglygorgeous, is also, believe it or not, a great cook! I had popped hercherry on our wedding night, had witnessed her sexual awakening and hadbenefitted in no small measure from her ever increasing curiosity andsexual appetite!It would be five years before she qualified for a passport, so I wouldbe getting my money’s worth, so to speak! I could, I reasoned, live withthe knowledge that I was just a pawn in her game! I also had a lever, anedge, as they say! If I divorced her, she would be shipped back home toMorocco, and her plans would come to nothing.Knowledge is power, they say, and I now was well armed. Logic is notall though. Deep down I knew I felt angry, betrayed. Very flatteringly,Amina told me that had she known Hafida’s plan before, she would have toldme, and that she would have married me. These girls have a much differentattitude to marriage than Western women. Hafida, she reasoned, was notonly being a cheat, but was also depriving her of something beneficial. She had apparently, called down Allah’s curse on her sister for deceivingme in the sacred ritual of marriage, so sparking a furious row!A week later we were boarding the bus and heading for Europe. I hadtold Amina to say nothing to anyone, and, after I explained that Hafida wastied to me for at least five years to get her passport, and that I had noobjection to Hafida’s scheme, she shrugged her shoulders and agreed to tellno one what she had told me. She said I was mad to let Hafida use me likethat, but she agreed to remain silent.The journey from Hafida’s town to London, is quite a lengthy affair. First the bus, or maybe a ‘bush taxi’ to Agadir, then an internal flight toCasablanca, and if you are lucky, an onward connection the same day toLondon. We, however, were not. Lucky, that is. We missed the Londonflight by half an hour. There was nothing for it but to book into an hoteland get the flight the next afternoon. This time we were lucky. A rathercomfortable and not too expensive hotel had a room, and we booked in.I was rather relieved. Most hotels in Morocco are shabby flea riddenthings, charging a dollar a night, with all the cock roaches you can manageor two hundred dollar a night extravaganzas! This hotel, however, wasclean, modern, and at ten dollars a night, cheap too!We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping at the nearby airport mall,buying suitable clothes for Hafida. A jalaba is not the warmest item ofclothing in the world, and February in Europe is somewhat chilly!! We alsobought some, shall we say, ‘more adventurous’ under wear for her, toreplace the rather frumpy plain stuff she usually wore. Hafida wasdelighted and in high spirits when we returned to our hotel. She was nowkitted out as she thought a woman should be. Western style clothing,including bikini briefs, thongs etc., plus matching bras, some blouses,skirts (all ankle length) and a couple of pairs of shoes with modest heels.The ‘trying on’ session back in our room was quite something! It waslovely to witness her c***d like enthusiasm and excitement as she unwrappedand put on each new item. As I watched her I couldn’t help thinking aboutAmina. It could have been her beginning a new life with me, reaping thematerial benefits that her commitment to me would have brought her. Instead, it was Hafida who was harvesting the crop that deceit had yielded.Looking back, it did seem a shame that Amina’s honesty had not beenrewarded, but there again, who’s to know if that honesty was real, or wasshe just as hollow as her sister? I can tell you, however, that Aminamarried a local man, and remained with him (being mother to at least two ofhis c***dren) for as long as I knew the family.Enough of the semantics though! You want to hear about something else,right? Right! And so you shall!About seven thirty that evening, we went to find the restaurant, medressed in jeans and a ‘t’ shirt, whilst Hafida looked stunning in a cobaltblue, gold embroidered jalaba she had begged me to buy for her just beforeour wedding. Again I was pleasantly surprised. Reasonable (plain andsimple) food at reasonable prices. And, unusually for a Moroccan ownedhotel, wine! Waiters in monkey suits seated us at a corner table, took ourorder, and presented us with a wine list.Now, Hafida, being a typical small town girl, was not used to all thisat all. Not only was she being waited on, but waited on by men! This toher was a revelation! At home, she and her sisters served family andguests alike, so having people bring her food and generally run aroundafter her was quite an eye opener. As for wine, it was something she (aMuslim girl from the deep south of Morocco, remember?) had heard about, buthad never seen, never mind tasted! When the waiter brought us a bottle ofwhat was undoubtedly a cheap French table wine, she stared wide eyed at it.I poured her a glass and motioned her to try it. She very hesitatinglysniffed it then sipped at it. She winced a little as she swallowed. Cheapand cheerful is the most generous description of it, but it had a veryfruity initial taste to it.Apparently she liked the stuff. Either that or she considered drinkingwine a necessary western social skill that she must acquire in her bid forEuropean citizenship! She downed a couple of glasses in quick successionand another couple during the meal. Needless to say, by the time we hadfinished, she was a little worse for wear, as they say! In fact as westood up to leave the restaurant, she swayed and stumbled, motivating bothI and the waiter to make a grab for her arms to prevent her from fallingover!We made our way to the lobby, Hafida supported on one side by me, and bythe waiter on the other. A bellboy took in the situation, and pressed thecall button on the lift for us. When the lift arrived, the four of ussqueezed into it, Hafida giggling drunkenly. In the conservative south ofMorocco, she had never been touched by any males other than her father, orbrothers. Here she was now, hemmed in by men, all of them in closephysical contact, and none of them her father or brothers! I suddenlyrealised that Hafida’s giggling was also probably due to the fact thatwhilst the waiter’s left hand was supporting her by holding her leftforearm, his right arm was curled around her waist. Not only was thisoutrageously forward, but was malatya escort his right hand actually under her breast,touching one of those delicious (and forbidden to him!) tits of hers?? Andwhy was the bellboy’s face so red? Could it be that in the close confinesof the lift, he was embarrassed because his penis was rubbing against thelady’s thigh, and his erection was causing a bulge in his uniform trousers?All this was plainly visible in the reflection from the mirror likesteel doors! Whilst I was standing behind Hafida, I could see over hershoulder, witnessing the events unfold as we travelled slowly up thebuilding, in much the same manner as the waiters hand was travelling slowlyup and over Hafida’s chest! Now, it is a well-known fact that Moroccan menconsider westerners to be the scum of the earth, and the women who consortwith them to be no better than whores. The two hotel staff, it seemed hadthis opinion of us, and so were treating us accordingly! The lack ofrespect they felt revealed itself in the gentle abusing of Hafida, whilstI, her husband stood next to her! I could hardly believe my eyes. Surelythey must know I would be aware of what was going on? Or did they think Iwas as drunk as she was? Suddenly, pictures of Hafida being sexually usedby these two flashed through my mind! My imagination, always strong, wasworking overtime! I could see, in my mind’s eye, the waiter thrusting intoHafida, using her, satisfying his lust with the body of the westerner’swhore! I could feel my own cock stirring, my heartbeat increased just afraction as an involuntary reaction to the erotic situation. An arrow ofguilt shot through me, but, its sting was suddenly blunted by the knowledgethat I was the victim of Hafida’s scam, that my betrayal of her would be nomore than rough justice! My cock hardened further as I contemplated thesituation! But what to do? What would happen if I did nothing? Wouldthey continue? Where would it all stop?I looked at my young wife. Her eyes were darting from the waiters hand,(which was now holding her right breast) to my face. I smiled at her asthough I had seen nothing, as though all were well with the world andnothing untoward was happening. She in turn shot a glance at the waiter,who simply stared back at her, the stony look on his face seemed to defyher to say or do anything! The lift’s control panel was just beside myright elbow. Behind the bell boy. The floor indicator showed us to be twofloors short of our destination. A fit of daring overtook me. Pretendingto scratch my head, I raised my arm, brushing against the button. The lift stopped. ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed. ‘I hope we’re not going to be stuckin here for long….’ Hafida stared at me. So did the bellboy. I think hehad seen what I had done. ‘It will not be long Sir….this oftenhappens….a few minutes at most….’ Came the reassuring response from thewaiter, his left hand releasing Hafida’s arm and dropping down to fondleher left thigh. She said nothing. On the shiny door, the picture of hisleft hand as it curled around her thigh and moved up towards her pussy,sent a hot shiver up my spine. She squirmed slightly as she felt hisfingers through the thin cloth. They were gently probing, testing hersense of resistance, putting her drunken sense of morality on trial. Hafida was found guilty. She said and did nothing. She never even triedto move away from his touch. Her eyes closed. His hand pushed between herlegs, gathering up a handful of the blue cloth as he cupped and squeezedher pubic mound in his palm.’Are you alright my dear?’ I asked innocently. ‘I think the wine is alittle more than she expected…’ This to the waiter who was now slowlymassaging Hafida’s pussy through the thin material! ‘Yes Sir, It oftenhappens when someone is not used to it.’ Did I detect a little sarcasm oraccusation in his tone? ‘It’s just as well you were here to help me withher! I couldn’t have managed her by myself.’ I said, moving my right handdown to her belly, just inches from the waiters. He quickly shifted hishold, leaving Hafida’s pussy free for me to stroke! The bell boy wasaghast! The waiter eyed me with suspicion. I grinned at him. He did not,however, let go of her right breast! Hafida kept her eyes closed! If shewas aware of what was happening, she showed no sign of it.I could hear her breathing. Quick and shallow. I ran my index fingerup along her pussy, pausing at the top to give her clitoris a little rub.She trembled ever so slightly. The waiter and I both keyed up by thesituation and aware of every tiny sound or motion, exchanged glances. Again I grinned at him. I moved my right hand, once again taking her arm.He immediately put his hand on her pussy, his fingers gently massaging herthrough the gown. The lift jerked into life. Someone higher up hadpressed the call button.We completed the journey to our floor, and when the lift doors opened,the waiter and I manhandled the now fairly limp Hafida down the corridor toour room. I noticed that the waiter took every opportunity to get a quickfeel of her whenever he could. I just let him get on with it! ‘Could youget the key out of my pocket?, I asked the bellboy. He hesitated but didas I asked. As he felt for the key, his eyes took in the bulge in mytrousers that matched his own!We almost dragged poor Hafida through the sitting room and into thebedroom. The waiter passed Hafida’s left arm to the bell boy, and to mysurprise, took her feet. We lifted her onto the bed, the waiter staringdown Hafida’s jalaba between her legs. One of her sandals fell off. Weall looked at it as it hit the floor. The atmosphere in the room waselectric! The waiter knew that there was a sexually oriented opportunityfor him, but it was obvious he could not see how to exploit it.It was now or never. If I did or said nothing, they would have toleave. Did I want to push the situation to its (almost) obvious conclusion?Inspiration hit me. I fumbled in my pockets as though looking for a tipfor them. I ignored the loose change that both the bellboy and myself knewlay in the bottom of my pocket. ‘Just a minute, I must find somemoney…to reward you for your help….’ and with that I hurried into thesitting room, leaving them alone in the bedroom with my prostrate wife. Istopped outside the door and peeped back into the room through the gapbetween the door and the door post. The waiter had wasted no time. He hadhis hand up Hafida’s dress, and it looked as though he was finger fuckingher. The bellboy, his right hand in his pocket, was furiously masturbatingas he watched his friend take advantage of drunken Hafida. As I watched,the waiter lifted up her jalaba to show his young college Hafida’sdepilated pussy. He had moved the crotch of her thong to one side and wassliding his middle finger in and out of her. It was shiny with her juices.Hafida moved slightly, her eyes remaining closed. Was it myimagination, or were her legs were spread just a little wider? Her headrolled to one side and she opened her eyes. With a moan she tried to situp, her right hand feebly trying to push the waiters hand away. He raiseda finger to his lips, and ‘shushed’ her. She stared at him. Her eyestravelled from him to the bellboy, then down to her dishevelled clothing.She whispered something to the waiter, I did not understand the Arabic, buther tone was urgent. It didn’t need a genius to work out she was tellinghim to stop. No scream of indignation, no appeal for help, just a demandthat they not be caught!’Won’t be a minute….’ I called out to them. ‘….can’t find mywallet! Shall I call room service for some coffee? The waiter lookedaround towards the door. A half smile on his face told me all I needed toknow. I think he had realised I had left them alone escort malatya intentionally. ‘Thankyou Sir, that would be very nice.’ he replied, unzipping his pants andfreeing his wedding tackle! I couldn’t see it, but Hafida could. She madea small squeaking sound and her eyes opened wide. Very wide! The waitermoved onto the bed beside her. He took her hand and placed it on his cock.She took hold of it and he lay down beside her, turning on his side so shecould masturbate him. ‘OK….’ I thought ‘….if you don’t mind, then Idon’t either!’ As he turned, his cock came into my view. Now, the onlyerect penis Hafida had ever seen until now, was mine. Five inches long andabout an inch and a quarter wide, with a slightly thicker head to it. Nicely proportioned, I’ve always thought, if not so big. The waiter,however, had been cast in a different mould! His was huge! Nine incheslong at least, I would guess, and as thick as a baby’s arm! His knob endwas the size of a duck egg, and his balls were the size of a Jaffa orange!No wonder she had stared wide eyed at it! This guy was equipped like aporno star!Surprised as she obviously was by this turn of events, Hafida’s truecolours began to show through. She stroked the fleshy monster, with no(apparent) thought of fidelity to her new husband, her eyes wide andsparkling! Her face wore an expression of nervous excitement, though not,as yet, devoid of anxiety. She was still worried about being caught. ‘Shall I tell them to bring the coffee in….what shall we say….about anhour?’ I had lowered my voice to a more, shall we say, conspiratoriallevel! The waiter grinned at the bellboy. ‘That would be very convenientSir, thank you very much!’ His next words were to Hafida. Not speakingArabic, I could not understand him, but she looked over to the doorway,disbelief on her face! ‘Shall I bring a towel in? Or maybe you prefertissues?’ I called again! The delight in the waiters voice when hereplied, was all too obvious to us all! ‘Whatever you prefer Sir, if youare joining us, that is….’ ‘Of course! Wouldn’t want to miss an orgy!’ Iwalked into the room, grinned at Hafida, dropped my trousers and sat on theend of the bed. Hafida just stared at me open mouthed!Too intoxicated to respond quickly to the situation, she just sat thereholding the waiters huge cock in her right hand! Her jalaba was hiked uparound her waist, her knickers, (one of the thongs bought this morning)were pulled down onto her thighs, and the waiter had his right hand betweenher legs, his middle finger in her pussy! ‘Well, well Hafida, looks likeyou’ve got a couple of new friends! Hope you’re feeling horny!’ She wentbright red, mumbling incoherently. ‘I think the jalaba should go, don’tyou?’ I asked the waiter. He spoke to her. She let go of his cock andlifted her arms above her head, the look of disbelief still etched into herface! ‘You let them do this?’ she asked me, when her jalaba cleared herface. ‘No dear, you let them. Looks like you had it all in hand, so tospeak!’ Slowly her drink befuddled mind worked out that I had seen herwanking the waiter. And that she had not objected to him putting his dickin her hand, or to him fingering her pussy!Sitting there without her jalaba, she looked a picture. Her dusky skinin sharp contrast to the brilliant whiteness of her lacy bra and her thong.Her long black hair hung down her back, providing a dark backdrop to herblushing face! The waiter tugged at her panties, sliding them down herlegs and over her feet. With a grin he tossed them to the bellboy,increasing the boys acute embarrassment, and his erection! ‘Your turnson….I think you should have her bra as well as her pants….come on,join the party!’ I said to him. Hafida grunted something in indignation,but nevertheless, the boy was at her side in a flash, his hands quicklypulling the flimsy straps from her shoulders. His breathing fast, his faceslightly flushed and his hands trembled. Hafida’s breasts, (34b) small butfirm and solid, popped into sight. No sagging matron this! A week ago shehad been a virgin, her firm young body was in peak condition. Her brownnipples were hard and pert. Despite the fact that she was sitting on thebed, her belly still looked flat and hard. Only a dead man would fail toget excited! And the three males in the room were all very much alive!The bellboy, kneeling beside Hafida, leaned over her shoulder andunclipped the bra. It fell into her lap, the straps still around her arms.The bellboy slipped it off them and with a sheepish grin, handed it to me.’Put it with her knickers!’ I told him. It was his ears turn to go red. Her knickers were in his pocket, and the bra joined them in a trice! Hafida protested loudly, but the waiter snapped a word at her, and she shutup immediately! This guy was well in control of things! I stripped off myshirt, and the waiter, taking his cue from me, also shed his clothes. Hafida couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was obvious to her now, that shewas going to be fucked by at least one of us, if not all of us, whilst theothers watched.The prospect of having to accommodate the waiter’s massive cock wasobviously upper most in her thoughts! She watched his shirt come off,exposing a brown, well-muscled body that had a light covering of blackhair. This guy was no stranger to the gym! Muscles rippled as he bent tostrip off his pants. When he stood up, he was a picture of athleticism. His penis stood proudly at forty five degrees to his belly. Long andthick, it seemed to be looking directly into Hafida’s staring eyes! Hisbig hairy balls hung bull like between his legs, large and round. Thepromise of a sticky flood emanated from them. The bellboy was still fullyclothed, standing next to the bed, seemingly in a trance. I motioned tohim to undress. In a flash he was naked! His cock, much to my relief, didnot put me to shame! Thankfully it was about the same as mine, maybe evena little thinner! The waiter spoke again, and the bellboy knelt on the bedagain, next to my young wife. She took his cock in her right hand andbegan to work it up and down the boy’s shaft. He moaned in appreciation ofthe attention! The waiter gently pushed Hafida backwards, and began tosuckle on her tits. Now this, I had discovered very early on our weddingnight, was Hafida’s weak spot, as it were! Suck on her tits and her pussyflooded! She was putty in my hands after that! His mouth on her nippleand his finger deftly working her pussy, the waiter had reduced Hafida to asexually charged bag of nerves! It was obvious she was ready for sex,(pussy juice was trickling down her thigh) but it was equally obvious shewas very apprehensive about the situation in general! ‘Too bad’, Ithought. ‘You’ll just have to take what comes, won’t you my pretty littleshyster!’ The waiter turned to me. ‘You want….’ he left the questionhanging in mid-air. ‘No! No! I want to see that big beauty in action!’ Ilaughed! ‘You first!’Hafida looked positively panic stricken as he moved his left kneebetween her thighs, pushing them apart so he could kneel between them. Hehooked her legs over his elbows and lifted them high, putting his handsnext to her shoulders. Hafida said one of the few words of Arabic Iunderstand. ‘Astafirullah!’ (God forgive me….) and closed her eyes. Thewaiter leaned forward a little, bringing the head of his big cock intocontact with Hafida’s anus. I winced at the thought of him trying to getthat monster in her bum! However, he just adjusted his position slightlyand it nestled between her labia. It hung there for a second like thesword of Damocles! Here was Hafida’s come uppance for her deception of me!He lowered himself an inch or so. His knob spread her pussy lips apart,coming into contact with her inner labia. malatya escort bayan He paused then clenched hisbuttocks, so forcing the big head into her tight hole. There was adefinite ‘OH!’ from my wife! He pulled back a little, the now slick headof his big cock coming into view for a split second before he pushed itinto her. She grunted as she was stretched wide. My deflowering of herwas almost inconsequential to this!A Muslim girl’s body is the strict domain of her husband. Sex outsideof marriage can, and often does, mean death in some cultures. Morocco isnot one of them, but we were all eligible for five years in prison! Hafidanow had five inches of a total strangers cock in her. I reached for thecell phone in my trouser pocket, and quickly took a snap of the two of themcoupled together by his big dick. I had her. Any argument from her now,and I could blackmail her into compliance. That moment suddenly seemed tobe nearer than I had thought. Hafida placed her hands on the waiters chestand tried to push him off! He was having none of that. He barked twowords at her. She stopped struggling. Her eyes filled with tears. Noneof this impressed our well-endowed hero though! Having got his cock intoher, he was determined to fuck her! He spoke again, this time softly,reassuring, cajoling. She shifted her hands to her knees. She was holdingher own legs up now, her face red with the effort of taking this guy’smassive penis, and no doubt, with self-pity!The bellboy and I had a grandstand view. Hafida’s pussy was stretchedto the limit, forming a tight ‘O’ around the waiters thick shaft. We stoodwatching the pair on the bed. We both had our cocks in our hands,masturbating as we watched him arch his back slightly and clench hisbuttocks again. Hafida noisily sucked in a lungful of air as he pushed hisbig dick right on into her. All nine inches or more of it. Until hisballs were resting on her backside. It must have felt as though he’d gothis arm in her! Slowly, he started to withdraw. Almost all the way out,until we could see the rim of his knob. His shaft was shiny with herjuice. He pushed back in, all the way in one stroke, and then began to fuckher. Only slowly at first but with ever increasing speed until he waspumping furiously. Then suddenly he stopped. He slowly withdrew, the bighead slipping out of her now gaping hole. He quickly re positioned it,then eased himself back into her, resuming his enjoyment of her with long,steady, slow strokes.Hafida’s ooooh’s and aaaah’s (a sure sign an orgasm is building in her!)kept time with the waiters thrusting buttocks, and after a minute or so,she was continually moaning loudly, her orgasm fast approaching. Thewaiter thrust his big cock all the way home, gritted his teeth and shot hisload, deep into her. Hafida wailed out in a mixture of orgasm and horror!This guy had not only had sex with her, bringing her to orgasm, but hadinseminated her as well! A double whammy!Rolling off her, the waiter grinned rather sheepishly at me, and spoketo the bellboy. The lad’s response was to leap onto Hafida! He missed themark a couple of times, ignoring her wailing, and then he was in her! Inone thrust he slammed into her, and started pumping furiously. To mysurprise she almost immediately started ‘ooh’ ing and ‘aah’ ing! Theorgasm brought on by the waiters huge tool pumping her, was beingrevitalised by the bellboys furious fucking! Hafida, it seemed, was one ofthose lucky females who had the ability to enjoy ‘multiple orgasms’! Continuous orgasmic pleasure for minutes at a time, for as long as someonewas fucking her! Sure enough as the boy was screwing his eyes up, andsquirting his baby gravy up her, Hafida was squeezing him with her thighsas she too hit the top! What a fabulous session!My cock was straining for action, so I dived in as soon as the bellboymoved out. What a mess! She was dripping goo as I squelchedenthusiastically into her sopping hole. How it had changed! Gone was thetight girly pussy, replaced by a softer, wider, woman’s cunt! The waiter’sgiant cock had transformed her hole forever. I pumped for a minute, mycock seeming to hardly touch the sides of her pussy, then added to themess!Whilst the bellboy and I had been busy with Hafida, the waiter had alsobeen busy. He had seen my digital camera on the dressing table, and hadsnapped a few of the scenes that Hafida and whichever one of us was busywith her, had presented! He handed me the camera, and without so much as a’by your leave’ to Hafida, rolled her over onto her stomach and, grabbingher hips, heaved her up onto her knees, in the ‘doggy style’. He thenslipped his still hard cock between her dripping labia, and turned to facethe camera with a big smile on his face! Hard to resist!I clicked happily away as he hauled my sobbing wife into variouspositions so he could be seen as the star in her debauching! After a fewminutes of this, he sat up, and spoke to Hafida. Instead of her usualcompliance, all he got was a mystified stare. He looked over at me. ‘Youno show her how to suck?’ he queried. I shook my head. ‘Hell, we’ve onlybeen married a couple of weeks! Hadn’t got round to it yet!’ His face litup in understanding. ‘So not fuck long? She ver’ tight! Nice, likevirgin!’ ‘She was….until you shoved that huge thing into her!’ Iretorted. ‘No worry! Only young! She tight again in morning! I show herhow to suck, yes?’ He asked with a more than hopeful expression on hisface. ‘Go ahead! I’ll take the pics!’He spoke gently to her. Her frown and snorted reply didn’t hold muchpromise of ‘oral’ pics, but his voice dropped a little, slightlyauthoritarian, threatening maybe? She tentatively took his penis in herright hand and dipped her head. The pink tip of her tongue appeared andshe gingerly touched it against the big head of his cock. She looked overat me. ‘You bad man. Make me bad girl. You go Hell. Me too.’ I’d madeher a bad girl? Funny, looked to me like she’d jumped on the path to Hellwith both feet, no assistance from me needed! ‘You can always go back hometo your family….’ I said quietly. ‘….you don’t have to come to Europewith me….’ She scowled at me. ‘I’ll send you a copy of thepictures….as a souvenir!’This was make or break time. How would she react to my threats? Shestared at me for a second or two, a little time being needed for theimplications of what I’d just said, to sink in. Then her shoulders droppeda fraction, signalling acceptance of defeat and her head dropped to thewaiters fleshy monster. I’d won! She given in! ose and her across herlips. With hesitation she ran her tongue along her top lip, trying thetaste of semen for the first time! She glanced up at him, and a shadow ofa smile flickered across her face. ‘Is all men want? To make womansticky?’ She had the idea! And summed it up neatly too!The youngest amongst us was also keen to make a woman sticky. His cockstood rigidly to attention, his face pink with excitement. The waiterissued another order, and Hafida bent to her task again! This guy hadmagic in his voice! She obeyed his every word! This time with nohesitation she took the young bellboy in her mouth and began to give himhis first, and her second, blow job! The waiter spoke urgently to her, anda second or so later, the bellboy’s body shook, and Hafida coughed andgagged as she followed the waiters instructions to swallow the semen beingshot into her mouth. Lifting her head, she looked at me and said, ‘Yourfriends enjoy your wife, yes? You no sorry they do all this with her?’ Hertone was half accusatory, half questioning. ‘No my dear! In fact it’squite a turn on to see you performing! Especially as you’re so good atit!’ Her eyes lingered on mine. She was trying to work out if I was beingcruel, or just telling the truth!The next morning saw our return to the UK. It was a very quiet flightfor me. My lovely new young wife just sat next to me, never saying a word!Was she remembering the events of the previous evening, or was shecontemplating the future? I didn’t ask.

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