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Message-ID: <57945asstr$1216689004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: story Ace <storyace@hotmail.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} The Souq M/F, F/F, M/F/F, m/F, Voy by Storyace
Lines: 694
Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2008 21:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Author: storyace, ace

Title: Souq, the

Part: 1 of 1

Summary: A bored housewife on vacation finds excitement
in the depths of the Moroccan covered market 

Keywords: M/F, F/F, M/F/F, m/F, Voy

5,200
words

The rest of my stories are at; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/www//

and; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/  
[in plain text]

Send any and all comments to; mailto: storyace@hotmail.com  I need response to keep writing!

 The
souq; 

"I do wish you'd listened to me when I asked you to dress a
bit more conservatively Mandy." Richard said as we walked through the souq, or
market, in Marrakech. "One would think you like being stared at."

I didn't bother to answer; after being married to me for
seven years, he hadn't figured that one out yet?

Yes, I like it! I like to be admired, to be the center of
attention, to be lusted after. When we first met, he liked me to dress provocatively;
I was eighteen and he was fifty-two. He loved the attention I brought to the
both of us as I hung on the arm of a man thirty four years older than myself,
my long legs in net nylons and my ass barely covered by a skirt that was little
more than a belt.

But my dashing, exciting, older lover had filled out into a
portly and boring old man. I was only twenty five and I was stuck with a sixty
year old husband with rheumatism. I should have listened to my mother and gone
to university instead of getting married.

In the souq, I wasn't dressed very provocatively, not by
western standards. I was in a beige dress that covered me from the neck to my
ankles. But it was a bit stretchy, my body shape was obvious; not a badly
shaped body, either. A bit heavier than I once was, but still a shape to draw
the male eye.

"Here we are." Richard said as we got to the carpet shop.
He'd been haggling over a large oriental for two days already.

The bearded shopkeeper smiled and ordered tea, his manners impeccable.

I sat in just inside the shop, looking out. Humanity teemed
out there, bustling with energy. From the shop opposite, an attractive young
man flirted with me.

I was bored, bored with my life. I was frustrated, yearning
for something more. And I had to pee.

I held it for a while, but when you have to go you have to
go; it would take an age to walk back out to the street and get a taxi back to
the hotel. I asked our gracious carpet seller if there was a toilet I could
use.

He looked disconcerted for a moment, then smiled. He turned
to his helper and spoke in rapid Arabic; I heard him say "deluxe toilet" in
there somewhere.

"Go with my boy, he will show you." He said.

I left the safety of the shop, immerging myself in the
bustle of the souq as I followed the boy.

He led me up alleys and around corners, I couldn't believe
there was nowhere closer a lady could relieve herself.

Finally, we entered a small door. 

Inside there was a long narrow hallway, very clean I was
happy to see. There was a man standing there. "Deluxe toilet." The boy said.
The man nodded for me to follow him.

I was desperate by that time, I went with the man, who
indicated an open door near the end of the hallway. Inside was a beautiful
room.

The walls were mosaic tile in intricate patterns, the floor
was gleaming pink marble. And there was a toilet on a dais, like a throne. I
closed the door and locked it thankfully, frantic to get on the pot and relieve
myself.

I threw off my panties and hauled up my dress before I
noticed that there was something odd about the toilet.

It was white ceramic, like the ones we all know; but it had
a large gap in the top of the front of the bowl, is if it had been broken. But
it wasn't broken, it had been made that way.

The seat matched the bowl, so there was no place to put my
thighs except spread wide to either side.

I sat down on the strange toilet as I heard a man cough. My
lower end clenched up, but there was no where for my legs to go, so they
remained splayed out. 

Suddenly I saw everything! The dark spots between the tiles
on the opposite wall were peepholes. I had entered through the back door of a
large building, a bath house and/or bordello. There were men lined up on the
other side of that wall, staring right up my naked middle. The whole place had
been purpose built!

A pulse of fear shot through me, then excitement; could it
be true? Was it just my fantasy running wild? Were there strange men looking at
me, between my spread legs?

I HAD to pee! I forced myself to relax, and my urine began
to flood out of my vagina, the splashing in the bowl below echoing around the
tiled walls loudly. 

It was a pee so desperately needed, the release of it was
like an orgasm; I held one hand just above my groin, holding my dress up out of
the stream. My little finger touched my clitoris; was that an accident? I never
figured it out.

I was humiliated beyond measure; I had opened my thighs and
urinated, knowing that there were perverts watching me, looking right between
my legs; I'd done it, and I was thrilled. Thrilled and mortified.

Then it was past; there was silence. Suddenly returning to
myself, I stood up and dropped my skirt over my legs. I stepped back into my
panties, pulled them up quickly, and unlocked the door.

Outside the building, the day was blinding. The boy from the
shop was there to lead me back.

 

The following day we headed back to the shop.

"I don't understand that fellow." Richard grumbled, "He
agreed to my price, I told you he would, but then insisted he had to be
somewhere and I should collect the carpet today. Left me there alone in his
shop waiting for you, odd, very odd."

I hadn't slept much. It kept coming back to me, the whole
experience. I had masturbated three times as my old husband snored away next to
me, oblivious.

We entered the shop, and were greeted by the owner again. He
insisted on showing us some other carpets before finishing up our business.

"I need to use the toilet again." I said.

"Damn it Mandy, I told you to go before we left the hotel."
Richard griped.

Trying to keep myself calm, I followed the boy through the
souq again. The same man met us expectantly at the outer door, as I went into
the peep toilet my hands began to shake with adrenaline, my heart was pounding.
It was an exhibitionist's dream.

This time, I had dressed for it.

I was wearing a skirt over a kind of light cotton coverall,
a one piece thing, kind of reminiscent of what a mechanic would wear. The
reason I'd chosen it was because in order to pee I had to take it off
completely. With two large glasses of water now filling my bladder, I wouldn't
be able to chicken out; I had set myself up.

The tiled room was silent as I undressed. I had to pee,
there was no way back! The knowledge thrilled me beyond anything I'd known for
years. 

Since I'm large breasted, I'd had to wear a bra. But it was
an open fronted one, my stiff nipples were standing proud in the cool damp room
as I peeled off my clothing.

I was wearing heels this time, I took them off to take my
coveralls off, then put them on again before stepping to the strange open bowl.

This time, I touched myself deliberately, fingering my clit
gently before urinating.

I was going crazy as I finally began to pee. I had never
found peeing even remotely sexual before, but knowing that there were strange
men looking straight up my crotch as I did it changed that.

I wondered what kind of men they were... dirty old perverts?
Young frustrated unmarried men? Would they masturbate as they watched, or would
they wait until later? Perhaps there were women, prostitutes to satisfy them
after they'd watched me.

My urine was all expelled, but I wanted more. I wanted to
display myself to the faceless males, to let their eyes feast on my nude white
body. 

The danger was exhilarating; I was helpless, far from home,
friends, or family. I was a stranger here, at the mercy of my unseen hosts. Knowing
that there were strangers enjoying my vulnerable nudity made my groin pulse involuntarily.


I sat straight backed, so my big breasts stood out proudly.
My knees were spread wide, and I fingered myself, shivering in pleasure and
shame.

I wanted to speak to them, to say something sexy. But I
couldn't find words, my throat was dry. I moaned and touched myself, pinching
my nipple.

I reached for my bag and pulled out an empty Coca-Cola
bottle I'd brought along; it was like the old ones they used to have in the
States, a perfect dildo.

I pushed the smooth cold lips of the bottle into myself, and
I couldn't resist groaning softly.

I shoved it up into my hot wet pussy, fucking myself with
it, stroking my naked belly and breasts with my other hand as I sat splay
legged on the strange throne. They were watching, all watching!

I came, letting my emotions out in a loud sigh.

Then, as before, as soon as it was over I suddenly felt
ashamed, exposed, endangered. The room was cold, hard, unfriendly... I dressed hurriedly
and left, unchallenged, back to my aging husband and his shopping.

 

The next day, we were at the shop yet again. The owner had
told Richard to call and check first, and when he did he was told of some new
stock, just what he'd asked for, really cheap.

Of course what it was really about was the free show the
shopkeeper and his friends were getting.

I couldn't use the pee story again, but the wily Moroccan
was prepared.

"Perhaps while sir looks through the new stock, Madame would
like my boy to show her the ladies bath?" he asked smoothly.

Of course the boy took me back to the peepshow bathroom.

This time, there was a surprise waiting for me though.

Inside the room was a young woman. She was gorgeous and very
black. She wore loose light cotton pants tied at her hips.

I stopped short, my fingers frozen at my zipper. "Who are
you?" I asked.

"I am here to assist, Madame." She answered, a bit woodenly.

"Assist how?" I asked, my brain slowly working at adjusting
to this new development.

"Assist." She repeated. She hadn't been hired for her razor
wit, that was clear.

I stood irresolute for a half minute; then I resumed
undressing. The handsome girl stood watching.

Her body was a close match to mine, but like a photo
negative, deep black to my milk white complexion. She was my height,
five-eight. She had my large breasts and narrow waist, even her hair was
similar, wavy and shoulder length, but black instead of blond.

Under a loose all covering dress that Richard had approved
of, I was wearing a see through black teddy, a garter belt, and black net
stockings. My heels were as high as I could walk that far in, so not extreme,
but looking pretty sexy.

I stared at the black woman, who was trying unsuccessfully
to keep impassive. I didn't know what was going to happen, just that I was
thrilled beyond measure. Would we touch? I was willing to, I decided; I'd do it
for my unseen audience!

I gyrated in the small room, slowly pulling off my clothes
for the peeping men I'd never seen, except the old shopkeeper, whom I was sure
was behind the wall watching.

I shook out my thick blond hair, and exposed my breasts,
then my private parts. I sat on my bowl throne, looking into the dark holes one
by one as I fingered my eager center, the silent presence of the stunning black
girl only adding to the thrill; I was in a place I'd never dreamed of, a
strange magical secret place. I was the star here, the center of attention.

I could never be like this at home; no, at home I was always
on the defensive, I was the weird girl who'd married an old man, trying desperately
to prove I was normal ever since.

But here in the dim opulence of the secret room off the
souq, I let myself go. Just for this moment, I exposed myself, opened my legs
to the eyes and lust of the dark Arab men lurking so close, yet invisible to
me.

I looked at the girl, and she looked back impassively. She
was so lovely; I wondered who she was and how she came to be here, yet somehow
I knew I shouldn't ask. I was naked, and I had a notion she might be soon, we
might even get physically intimate, but I knew I had to respect her privacy.
She would expose her body, but not her whole self.

She stepped behind me, there was space between the obscene
throne and the wall. She smelled of sweet and cheap perfume.

Her fingertips touched my shoulders and I shuddered; a chill
went through me, a lovely dark exciting chill.

Around my shoulders, down my ribs, across my belly and up to
my breasts the hands traveled, the touch of another woman on my naked flesh,
the soft sensual touch of female on female.

My own fingers were playing across my thighs and vagina, I
was open, so totally open! Open to the unseen eyes of the local men, watching
me, lusting after me.

Her fingers traveled lower, replacing mine between my legs.
I looked down to admire her slim dark arms and hands. The contrast between her
color and mine was wonderful.

She played with my blond pubic hair and kissed my neck. It
was sweet, sexy yet quite harmless; I would have been terrified of a man, but a
woman couldn't harm me. She had no hot balls full of dangerous fluid, no cock
to penetrate me in my weakened state; I could simply enjoy myself, submerge
into this strange otherworldly trip.

"I will shave you." She said quietly, her voice deep and
sexy. 

It wasn't a question, and so I gave no answer. I sat still,
touching myself, reveling in the strange and dangerous fantasy world I had
found here in the souq, a million miles from anything I'd ever known before.

From behind me, she produced a mirror on a stand. Swinging
it over my thigh, she placed it in front of me, between my legs. I felt her
settle in against my back, her breasts pressing against my shoulder blades.

Her hands disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a
long-haired brush. She lathered my blond pubes, then she began to shave me,
working from behind so that the view to the front would be unobstructed.

She toweled me, then stroked my groin; as she would find the
odd bit of stubble, she'd shave it off deftly with her safety razor before
repeating the stroking again.

Finally, I was as smooth as a newborn baby, and as horny as
a teenager. I wanted to masturbate, or better, have my new friend finger me,
while the audience looked on.

But she stood up, and taking my hand, led me to a door I
hadn't noticed. It wasn't hidden, but it matched the mosaic pattern of the
walls.

Behind the door was another room, a bit smaller. It was a
soft room, with thick rich carpeting on the floor, tapestries on the walls, and
a raised area with cushions.  It was like
a thousand Arabian nights, beautiful and exotic. 

I turned to her; her face was lovely, her almond eyes big
and brown, her dark chocolate complexion perfectly smooth. I'd had an affair
with a woman once; Richard's first wife actually. I had loved her, but she had
died tragically. Somehow I'd ended up with her husband afterwards; but that's
another story for another time.

Although I couldn't be sure, I was quite certain that there
were still men watching us.

She took off her sparse clothing, and I saw she was shaved
all over like I was. Her body was stunning, curvaceous, and beautifully black.
I wanted to touch her, to feel the warm smoothness of her dark skin, to taste
her mouth.

But before anything else could happen between us, the second
door of the room opened and a man came in. the carpet seller, in fact.

I was a bit shocked, and I was stark naked; well, if you
don't count the high heeled shoes and net stockings I still had on. I felt a
pulse of fear, or was that excitement? I'm not quite sure what the difference
is.

The man grinned at me in a peculiar way. A conspiratorial
way... and I knew what he was there for. Well, I guess anyone would know, grin or
no grin.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just... do it with him! I
didn't know him, and he was old, well, not as old as my husband perhaps, but he
had a long grey beard to his chest, and he was short, much shorter than the
black girl and I. In my heels, he was a head shorter then me!

As these half coherent thoughts bounced through my thick
skull. The black girl stood behind the carpet seller and lifted his ankle
length robe up over his head.

She threw the robe to the side and pulled off his briefs,
and the man was as naked as we were but for the thin turban he still wore on
his head. 

His cock was hard already, standing out in front of him as
broadly as his grin. He wasn't black like the girl, he was Arab; light brown
and uncircumcised. He stared at me brazenly as the girl stood behind him,
reached around and stroked his stiff thing. It was about six inches long I
guessed, not much different to my husband's, but darker. 

I'd never had sex with any man other than Richard. I suppose
that sounds weird in these times; it wasn't out of any great conviction or
anything. He and his first wife seduced me when I was seventeen, when she died
I couldn't abandon him. We got married after a few years of living together. 

I had truly enjoyed my exhibitionist fantasy, but if I was
going to cheat on my husband, it wasn't going to be with this skinny old Moroccan.
It would have to be someone sexy and young...

The black girl deftly rolled a condom over the Arab's prick.
She obviously had practice; she pulled on his willy a couple of times when she
was through, then let go of him.

Hardly a thing had been said during all of this, and I
struggled to find my voice. It was like a dream where it's imposable to speak,
I needed to find words; well, I really only needed one, "No".

My clothes were still in the bathroom, and the carpet trader
stood between me and that door. He advanced, his grin and his hard penis preceding
him; I stepped back, but the edge of the raised cushioned area was just behind
me, and I tripped, falling backwards onto the dais.

The old man was on me before I knew what was happening; he
jumped on top of me, his skinny body in the valley between my open legs!

He grabbed my head in a grip like iron and began to kiss my
mouth frantically. I tried to push him off of myself, but I couldn't manage. I
tried to roll away, but I was constrained by the big tubular pillows on either
side of me.

I felt a poking, prodding, pushing against my lower lips...
I struggled to get out from under him, I tried to hold myself shut. But somehow
his dick found its way past my defenses, I felt it sliding into me, filling my hot
wet vagina. He was inside me, his cock was in my body!

The strength seemed to leave me; I was helpless, a prone
victim, being abused by a frantic Muslim trader. I could feel his penis inside,
hot and hard, eager and dominant. 

He did it with a crazy rhythm, jerking madly, jamming his
stiff rod in and out. His mouth could only reach my tits now, because of the
difference in our lengths. He sucked my nipple hard as he jerked and poked his
rigid member into my vagina.

I suddenly realized that no one would ever believe he had
raped me; I was bigger than he was after all; surely I could have resisted him.
If I'd wanted to.

He was wearing a condom, so it was harmless really. What difference
could a little thing like this make to me? He was crazy for me, I was his
dream. I could just let him; after all, he was already doing it. It would be
terribly rude to stop him right in the middle, and I was just a guest here.

The truth was, I liked it. 

I don't know why, but that's just the truth of it, I was
having sex with a total stranger, and I liked it.

That was sexy, even if he wasn't; I clamped my hands around
his round little ass and encouraged him. He looked up at me from between my big
white breasts and grinned an even broader grin than before, his crooked teeth
and hook nose offset by his bright mischievous eyes.

I was going to come; I wanted to come. I wanted to come here
in this strange place, with this strange little man inside me, his long beard
tickling my belly.

But he grunted and stiffened; the old merchant came early,
and my first time with another man was over, just seconds too soon.

I looked up to see the African girl smiling down at me. She
was still naked, her big dark breasts hanging between us. She pulled at the
exhausted man who was still lying on me, and he got up. She led him to the
door, and then I was alone with her again. 

It had been very quick, a matter of minutes. I could still
feel the vacant spot he'd just been in, I was trying to catch my breath and
figure out how I should feel about what had just happened when the door opened
again, and another man came in.

My stomach did a little loop; another man? What did these
people think? I wasn't going to just keep going, like a slut whore!

Actually though, it wasn't a man. It was a boy.

A big tall gorgeous boy.

He stared at me through horn rimmed glasses, his face smooth,
fresh, eager, and brown. He was as tall as me I guessed [I was still lying on
my back]. The dark girl stood behind him and began to pull off his clothes as I
tried to force my mind to work coherently.

I had done it with the old guy, so why not try again? I was
frustrated, I would have liked some satisfaction. I'd never had a young lover. 

The young man was dressed in western style clothing,
trousers and a shirt instead of the long robe habitually worn by the older men.
The chocolate girl had him naked in a moment, and was standing behind him,
stroking his cock as he faced me, just as she had done with the trader.

His cock was big.

Not porn star size, but pretty big. Nine inches at least. I
stared at it blankly, wondering what it was going to feel like to be fucked
with it.

"What's your name?" I asked him, breaking the silence at
last.

"Ahmed." He answered.

"I'm Mandy. How old are you Ahmed?"

"Sixteen." He said.

I just lay there looking up at them, my thighs wide open in
lewd invitation. I was shocked with myself, yet there was a strange
exhilaration, a recklessness I had never known in myself before. Yes, I was
naked and open wide, and this big handsome young man was welcome to me.

The small black hands of the girl stroked Ahmed's big brown
dick for a couple of seconds before rolling a condom over it. He kneeled
between my open thighs, and the girl kept holding him. She put him against me
and whispered softly into his ear as he pushed into my wet passage.

Oh, but he felt good! So smooth and strong and big!

The strong young lad started to give me his adolescent
strength, and I took his head and kissed his baby lips as his hot rod took
possession of my oddly willing body. 

Now this was something I could get used to I was thinking...
this was really quite fine. 

My breathing was getting shorter; I pulled at the boy passionately
as the feeling grew inside me again, urging him to greater efforts, eager to
have my satisfaction in this strange room with this boy I'd only known for
three minutes..

The boy's eyes rolled up, and he was coming. I pushed my
clit down hard against his thick shaft, but it wasn't going to happen.

 

He wanted to lie on me for a while, and I wouldn't have
minded; but my dark assistant insisted he get it together and get out. And I
realized that there must be another man waiting.

At this point, I decided that I'd had enough. It was dirty
and nasty now, instead of wonderful and exotic. I wasn't really having fun.

I got to my feet, tottering in my heels on the soft
carpeting. But then He came in.

He was huge; six foot three or four. Even in my heels he
towered over me.

His traditional robe couldn't hide his massive bulk; he was
wide as well as tall. His shoulders were huge and powerful looking, he had no
head hair but the usual long beard, slate grey. And he had really thick
eyebrows too, over intense smoldering eyes.

I couldn't tell his age, anywhere between 50 and 70 I
figured. He smiled like a lion about to make a kill as he threw his robe over
his head.

My knees went wobbly; I was afraid. I tried to speak, but my
mouth was too dry. The huge man grabbed me and pulled me against himself, his
massive hand grabbing my naked ass to pull my groin against his.

He was wearing briefs, but his penis was unmistakable
against my thigh. The girl pulled the briefs down his thick legs then, and his
rod was hot and big, his face scared and wide, his hand like a clamp on my head
and his tongue hot in my mouth.

I didn't dare oppose him. He could just crush me like an egg
if he were angry; I was naked in his arms, he was naked in mine, how could I
stop now?

Suddenly, I had an idea; blow job.

I'd suck him off, which would be fun, and when my mouth was
filled with his come, I would be let free. Who would want me when my mouth
stank of semen?

Dropping to my knees, I took his big hard dick in my hands,
then put it in my mouth.

He pushed me back onto the cushions, but I kept sucking. He
was big, really big. I could only get a few of his ten odd inches in my mouth.

The black girl was taking part now, kissing the huge bald
man enthusiastically. I sucked him and sucked him, loving the feeling of that
powerful penis against my throat.

But he wouldn't come. Not that easily.

He grabbed me by the crotch, squeezing my ass with his
fingers as his thumb entered my vagina. He had me in his hand, like a doll.

He pulled his dick from my mouth and pushed me down onto my
back. There was no use refusing him, he would do as he wished with us.

I spread my stockinged legs wide as the huge man's huge cock
impacted my tender middle. He held it in his fist and mashed the tip up and
down against my open lips and clitoris, teasing me with it before finally
pushing it in.

I could feel it deep within me, reaching right up to my
womb; I was defeated, utterly overwhelmed. I was his until he was through with
me.

Who the hell was this man? What was he doing to me?! Oh god,
I was conquered. I was a little girl squashed under his mass, as his cock took
my body as a home.

There was no premature ejaculation this time; I came in a
massive heady rush, crying helplessly. 

He lifted himself off of me then, and I saw the African girl
was lying next to us, long dark legs spread, waiting for her master.

He slid straight into her, and fucked her with a savage
familiarity for a couple of minutes. Then he pulled out again, and moved back
to me.

He pushed his thumb into the other girl as he flattened me
with his powerful long thrusts. He wasn't a good-looking man; he was hairy and
fat. There was certainly no romance here. Yet I was more turned on than I could
ever remember, it was dark and dirty, depraved, immoral, corrupt. I was fucking
like a dog, from pure instinct, devoid of cultural niceties. He was big and
strong, old and dominant, the master of this place and time.

As I came for the second time, my long limbs trying to wrap
themselves around my massive lover, I felt his big rod erupt into me, his
fluids flooding me, hot and deep. He was naked, there was no condom this time.

 

"I can't offer you as much as you must be making in the
west, but you could live a luxurious life here on what you would earn if you
stay." He told me as we all lay together on the cushions afterwards. "I had a
Russian girl working for me until recently, my customers were wild for her. We
don't get many white girls down here, there's big demand."

I stuffed some toilet paper in my underwear to absorb the
fluid leaking out before I was put in a car back to the hotel.

 

Oh, Richard never noticed a thing. He ended up with several
more expensive carpets, which turned out to be worthless; they'd all been made
by a machine in Korea.

I'm not going to move to the third world to become a
prostitute in the market; but there will be some changes in my life, that's for
sure. 

Ace. 2005

The rest of my stories are at; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/www//

and; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/  
[in plain text]

Send any and all comments to; mailto: storyace@hotmail.com  I need response to keep writing!

 

 


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