This is the sex....or part of it anyway...

We spent the afternoon drinking wine, and talking about nothing of consequence, watching the tourists, and the sea.

“Shall we take the shorter but steep path? Or the longer but easier route?” he ask looking up the hill toward the path to the villa.

“Shorter and steep, then I can skip the gym today.” Steep was the word all right, even with the ocean breeze at our backs I was getting heated and dusty. It was lovely looking down on the town spread out and covering the hills as we climbed. I could smell the scent of the sea and the mossy odor of the hillside. As we neared the top I looked out and saw what I think was Capri, or those little islands just this side of the shoreline. There were a few of the locals traversing the steps as well, and Hassan stopped to speak to those he knew, introducing me. I could hear the sounds of cars, away and on the other side of the hill, and the rough sounds of the motors from the large tourists’ boats drifted up the hill. The sky spread above us in a showcase of blue that was dazzling.

“You’re doing it again,” I said turning to him as he was coming up the steps behind me. I couldn’t help smiling. When a man admires your body so blatantly, you have to be pleased.
“But Che’rie, you have such a fabulous derriere, I can’t help myself,” he said showing no repentance whatsoever.

“Be that as it may, having someone at my back makes me nervous. You come up here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Really? You’re spoiling my fun you know.”

“Perhaps we can think of something else to entertain you, “ I said. I meant it to be funny, but it came out as a seductive invitation judging by the look in his eyes as he took my hand.

“I’m sure we can,” he said in that husky, deep voice I was beginning to realize meant he was in heat. He took me in his arms and danced his lips over mine, then teased with his tongue until I opened to him. He tasted like sunshine and wine, and his kisses made my knees weak. He tugged gently but insistently on my lower lip with his teeth, his tongue swept through my mouth with a hunger that caused me to burn inside, and press my body against him. I could feel the very hard physical evidence of his desire, and the wetness between my thighs in response. His face bore the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow and the roughness left the skin of my face and neck slightly abraded and tingling. I ran my fingers through his marvelous hair. He clutched me to him until there was no room for a breath between us, ravaging my mouth until I was pulsing with desire. I wanted to be inside his skin, take a peek inside his head to see if he was as bewildered with passion as I. He suckled my tongue and fisted the hair at the nape of my neck to facilitate his mouth moving over my neck – nipping with his teeth and stroking with his tongue. I pushed him away in fear that I would try to have my way with him there on the steps. “You can’t do that here. I can’t breathe.”

“I can not help myself,” he said as he went back to nuzzling my neck. I could smell the intoxicating scent of the Tweed he wore, and feel the sun on my skin. The sea breeze softly caressed us as we tasted each other.

“Be that as it may…” I said taking his hand and pulling him up the steps. Oh, so much trouble. I was in so much trouble. Just sex. Just have sex and get out. I could do that right? What did that chap in Hamlet say? “To thine own self be true.” Highly overrated, the entire self-examination route was highly overrated. What did Socrates know anyway – just an old Greek guy wandering around without shoes.

When we arrived at the villa we were both a bit out of breath and dusty. We took our shoes off at the door, as Thomas, who was waiting for us at the entrance, insisted we not track sand onto the silk rugs in the foyer.

“I have to have a bath. I’m sticky and hot,” I said going up the stairs. The staircase is one of those intricate wrought iron affairs with the steps made of the same stone as that in the entryway, it was set in a sensuous curve to the upstairs.

He stopped my progress by pushing me gently against the banister and crowding me with his much larger body. “I can help you with that you know.” He placed his arms to either side of me, resting his hands on the wrought iron behind me, essentially trapping me there.

His voice was smooth, like fine whiskey, and the close up view of his sculpted lips was making me nuts. I wanted to trace them with my fingers, my tongue, and then press against them with my lips and push through them with my tongue and drive him to the edge of reason. “Oh really? And how’s that work?” I ask raising one eyebrow in my best imitation of Mr. Spock. When I was fourteen I sat in front of my mirror for hours practicing because I thought the eyebrow thing was so cool. Perhaps not the best use of my time, but now I was glad I had put in the effort.

“You said yourself that the hammam has spoiled you, and you can’t bathe yourself anymore.” He was running a track of flames up my arm with the pad of his finger while he spoke. “I could be your bath attendant.” He brought his lips down on that spot on my neck behind my ear and began stroking it with his tongue in small circles that sent bolts of electricity through my breast pressed up against his chest. His hands moved lower down my back, stroking and massaging. I lost my breath as all the air left my lungs in a single gust. I couldn’t speak. I felt my nipples pushing against the lace of my bra, and my body was aching between my legs. I pushed him back so that I could get my breath.

“And how would that work exactly,” I ask. I was smiling. This was fun. Intense, but fun. I’d missed this verbal foreplay.

He held up his right hand, palm out, to me. “I give you my oath that I shall remain fully clothed the entire time you are in the bath,” he said raising both his eyebrows up and down in a mock lewd gesture.

“Why oh why do I think there is a catch in there somewhere?”

“Catch? What is a catch?”

“Some unspoken meaning, a trickery by words.”

“No. No catch,” he said grinning ear to ear and pulling me toward the bathroom in his suite.

“Oh my giddy aunt! This is huge, and you have a Jacuzzi.” The bathroom was as large as my very large room down the hall, tiled in the shades of blue of the sea below us, with seashells and stunning coral pieces for detail.

“The room is constructed so that when you close these glass doors you can fill the room with steam, and there is a marble shelf just there,” he said pointing as he took me on a tour of the bathroom suite, “ that is used for oil massages after the bath, “ he was trying not to grin but was cataclysmically unsuccessful. He pointed to a leather ottoman beside the huge bathtub that mirrored the Jacuzzi set in a curving eight pattern. “Just sit there while I set the temperature and close the doors.” I was watching him move about, getting everything just so. My eyes kept being pulled to the large bulge in his trousers and his great butt. Obviously we are both obsessed with the backside of the other. What does that mean? As he moved, his shirt pulled tight across his broad back and outlined the muscles of his arms. I let out a silent moan. Gods he was in great shape. How old is he I wondered? I had thought forties, but looking at him now I don’t know, maybe younger? In any case it was a great view. I heard the knock at the bedroom door and volunteered to answer it. “No, you sit. I want you to get all the oxygen you will need…… for your bath,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows again making me laugh.

He returned with a silver tray loaded with Pierrer, Pellegrino, wine, and small sandwiches. “Thomas is very efficient,” he said in reply to my amused look. He set the tray on the marble shelf running along the far wall, lifted a silver circle that revealed an ice bucket built into the shelf and placed the water there. I’m thinking now one could be lost in this room for some time eh?

Steam was rapidly filling the room and heating it up. Hassan stepped past me kissing me on top of my head, handing me a glass of wine, and turned on the faucets to fill the pool size tub with water.

“I don’t use soap, do you have some cleansing lotion or the brown stuff they use in the hammam?” I ask, looking up at him as I sipped my wine and curled my toes in the luxurious rug.

“Yes there is some ghasoul in this jar,” he said pointing out a small turquoise urn on the shelf by the bath. “Is that how you keep your skin so incredibly soft? It’s like silk,” he said his eyes turning dark as he ran his hands down my arms, looking at me with desire evident in his face.

“I think that credit belongs to the ladies in the hammam, they do, whatever they do, it works very well the brown stuff, the oil, the masque – it’s all part of it yes?” Breathe. Now I was chatting like a magpie trying to get my body, which was spinning out of control every time his gaze raked over me, under some kind of self-discipline. Was I really going to do this? It had been a long, long, time. What if I couldn’t remember how? On a less euphoric plane I was sighing inside as I could feel my well-straightened hair begin to curl out of control. Inshallah. The sexual tension in the room was hotter and more opaque than the steam billowing around us.

He came toward me through the clouds of steam. “Stand up.” There was command in his voice that I couldn’t, didn’t want, to resist. I put down my wine glass and slowly stood. Oh dear, no one, well no man, had seen me naked in eight years. Was everything holding together, holding up, I wondered? He unbuttoned my shirt, and slid it inch by inch down my arms, dropping it on the floor. His sharp intake of breath as he moved to cup my breasts in his hands caused me to lean toward him. I have always thought my D-cup breasts more trouble than they’re worth, but apparently he did not share that view.

"God you are beautiful," he said as he used both hands to caress my breasts, his thumbs fondled my nipples through my bra. He bent down and suckled right through the lacey material. I took his head into my hands, running my fingers through his hair and pulled him to me to take more of me in his mouth as my back arched. All I could think was don’t stop! He placed gentle kisses over my chest and up my neck and took my mouth for his own as he slowly unclasp my bra. “I love this sexy underwear.” He pulled it slowly from my body and his eyes took in every inch of me in a look filled with ardor. The need pooled low and heavy between my hips. My thinking was becoming as murky as the steam surrounding us, and all I could do was feel his hands and mouth on me, and I wanted more – now. My skin was vibrating with need, and so sensitive I felt I might shatter.

“Your nipples are so pink and the skin around them is pale like a rose petal,” he said looking at them with intense interest, kissing, and caressing as he spoke. His hands were moving oh so slowly and touching me like you would a fine piece of art.

“Is that unusual in some way,” I said gasping for air as his thumbs and mouth continued the amorous torture of my nipples. Like I care. Just don’t stop. And only a Moroccan could say the things he was saying without appearing ridiculous

“Moroccan women are brunettes and their nipples are brown and dark. With your red curls, pale skin and pink nipples you look like Venus rising from the sea.”

He lowered his mouth and rolled my nipple with his tongue, and teased with his teeth. When he suckled my naked breast I went up in flames. I could feel the wetness between my thighs coating me, bathing me in and out, in invitation for his touch. That place inside me that was uniquely feminine, where I had suppressed desire for so long, had burst open and heat flamed over my body. Heat, desire, need. I could feel the edgy lust, like an itch you can’t reach for relief, engulfing me. The coiled energy was building fast and tight needing release – exquisite agony. I pulled him to my breast and pushed my hips toward him aching for relief.

He continued to caress my breasts as he laid kisses from the underside up to my lips. I heard myself breathe a moan full of craving and impatience into his mouth. As he moved to unzip my jeans I put my hands down to help. My skin felt too tight, I was unsettled, I ached, and I wanted relief now. I could not get out of my clothes fast enough. I wanted to feel his hands and his mouth all over me. He slapped my bum with his hand, “No, this is for me to do. You must wait. It has taken me almost one year to get you naked. I intend to take my time.”

“I don’t think I can,” I said, feeling the effects of his touch on my body – my skin was so responsive I could feel the steam passing over my nipples and wrapping around my hips as he, with agonizing slowness, pulled my jeans down. My breasts hurt with the tingling, fullness, and desire for his mouth. I dug my nails, kept mercifully short for typing, dig into my palms as I clinched both my teeth and my firsts. As he caressed my hips and legs I felt if he didn’t take me now I would explode with desperation. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders. I don’t know if I was trying to move him, or to keep myself from falling over.

“Yes you can,” he said as he tossed my pants in the corner and ran his hands up one leg at a time, slowly, to cup the soaking mound between my legs. “Mon Dieu you are so ready for me my rose petal. How long my darling? How long has it been?” he kept his hand there, pressing against the lacy thong where it passed through my legs, and moving his fingers wickedly through the lace, as he trailed kisses up to my neck and stood, aligning his body with mine, massaging my butt with his other hand.

I held onto his shoulders with both hands. I was being consumed in fire and heat. My blood felt thick and hot like slow flowing lava. I was dragging the air into my lungs with effort. I could feel the sheen of sweat covering me. Everywhere he touched me was a spark of electricity pulsing through me. I ached. “Years, oh gods it’s been years.”

“Too long, too long my rose petal,” he whispered the words against my lips. I could feel his flinty erection pressing against my stomach and I lowered my hand to touch him. I traced the bulge in his trousers and he moaned, let out a growl, and pulled back. “No. This time is for you. I gave my oath remember?” He looked into my eyes, smiling while the same need filled his eyes. I felt like the spider’s prey trapped in the web.

“I release you!” I said laughing with desperation and pulling him to me. I kissed him with all the pent up passion of the last cold, unfulfilled, eight years. I drove my tongue into his hot, welcoming mouth and I pulled on his lips with my teeth and danced with his tongue. I railed my nails down his back through the shirt from his shoulders to his waist.

He sank to his knees and traced the scars on my leg, my abdomen, my breast, and my back, with his fingers and his mouth, sending lighting bolts to that place of passion within me, dormant for too long. “So many scars on your lovely skin. What happened to you?”

“Long story for another time. Really, another time!” I said in desperation. I did not want to get into the stories of my past, not now. I wanted to feel him inside of me. I wanted him to drag me to the floor and take me – pound into me until I couldn’t remember my name or his.

Everything in me that's female responded to his touch, inflamed and longing. I watched him as he gently and oh too slowly guided my thong down my legs, following it with slow open-mouthed kisses. I lifted my feet, one at a time and he tossed the scrap of lace to the pile of my clothing on the floor, and moved his hand to the thatch of red curls covering the mound between my legs, and I cried out. I had to hold myself upright by grasping desperately to his shoulders. I thought I would come right then before he ever touched me. I was trembling head to toe, wound tight as a watch spring.

“I wondered,” he said coaxing me open with his fingers, running them back and forth over the folds covered with the wetness of my desire. “I wondered if the hair in your secret place was as red as the hair on your head. I thought about it on many nights in the dark when I was alone.”

He pushed his finger into my wetness and heat, and I moaned and dug my nails into him. “Oh Shiva, please Hassan, please. I can’t stand anymore.” I felt like I would disintegrate into my individual atomic components. I closed my eyes and saw bright colored flashes. I was dizzy with desire.

Instead of answering, he dug his hand into my hip and pulled me toward him, replacing his fingers with his tongue, and I screamed. I could feel the liquid gushing in response coating his tongue as he flicked and stabbed into me. His tongue was relentless. I put my hands in his hair and pulled him to me, riding his mouth, craving relief. I felt it coming; the waves of climax rushing over me and taking me out of my body. Again and again as he continue to suckle and push his fingers into me. Fisting my hands in his hair, I held on for dear life. I let myself go, higher and higher, a roller coaster with no speed brake as I exploded into a million pieces. With a last cry I fell into him, not able to stand anymore, and not able to stand. I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. I felt like fainting. I felt like jumping for joy. I felt like I wanted the feeling again, and again.

Hassan gently picked me up in his arms, pulling me close to his chest, kissing me softly, and stepped fully clothed into the tub. He sat down and settled me on his lap in the hot water with the clouds of steam billowing around us. The tub was so large we could have invited in the neighbors.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Oh gods thank you, albeit I think you have killed me,” I said tracing his face with my fingers. "Your turn. Take off your clothes. I want to see you. I want to feel you. I want my hands on you."

“You want me to break my oath?”

“Yes, oh mercy yes!” I moved my hand down between us to get a grip on the sizable hard-on that was pushing into the curve of my bottom. As he moaned, I turned over and locked my fingers together behind his neck and pulled myself up and down over his body in a slow sensuous slide, my naked limbs rubbing over every part of him, my eyes locked with his. I felt him engorge and grow larger, his heat pushing against the material of his trousers. His skin was so hot I expected the bath water to boil and steam. I saw his jaw tense as he gritted his teeth in response.
.
He took my face into his hands. “You are driving me mad with your body. You are so responsive, so alive and beautiful. You are a sorcie’re, a witch. You western-woman. You have no submission in you do you?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that. I think you had me at your mercy there a few minutes ago, but we of the west believe in fair play,” I said running my nails up and down the sides of his rock-hard erection. I watched his face as he grimaced and growled, then cupped my bottom with both his hands pulling me up to his face for another kiss that made my toes curl and my body cry out for him.

He rose in a flood of water, out of the tub, taking me with him. He moved past me to pull the drain and turn on the shower. “Stand there and keep your hands to yourself or I’m going to turn you over my knee!” He reached for the container of bathing mud.

“Hmm,” I said putting my finger to my chin, “that could be fun.”

“You just keep laughing. When I am done here, I am going to wipe that grin off your face and replace it with pleading.” He applied the bathing mixture over my back, and turned me toward him to cover my chest and breast.

“I’m willing to do the begging right now if you will take your trousers off,” I said reaching for him.

He slapped my hand gently aside, and continued to apply the mud in slow circles around my breast and onto my stomach. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

“Hassan that sounds like a scene from “The Departed”. You aren’t going to cuff me are you? I promise to be good.” Listening to him growl, I was laughing so hard I was shaking. I can think of very few things better for the psyche of a woman than to have a handsome man lusting for you so badly he growls. His hands sliding over my body in the slick mud was making my hips pulse and my breasts were points of exquisite pain, heavy and full.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “You seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time applying that stuff to my bottom you pervert.”

“Leave me alone, I am enjoying myself,” he said laughing.
He placed me under the hot stream of water and kissed me until I saw stars, as he rinsed me off. Then his mouth wandered down to my breast, and those wicked fingers between my legs. I forgot my name as I came again, in a thundering climax that left me reeling. He snagged a towel from off the wall, wrapped me snugly, then picked me up and walked into the bedroom with his wet clothes leaving a trail of water over the floor and rugs, and tossed me onto the bed.

I lay against the pillows looking at his muscled chest through the soaked shirt. The wet material outlined him in stark detail and his erection was encased and defined by the soaked material of his trousers. Gods he was breathtaking. He began to unbutton his shirt, but gave it up, ripping it off and popping buttons on to the floor. I was getting aroused all over again watching him undress. His trousers fell to release the thick length of his erection, springing out from his body with a single drop of fluid on the velvet head. Oh he was big. I am not. I began to have some reservations about this. It had been eight years, what if I had closed up, grown another hymen, or something equally weird?

He stood looking down at me. “What? What is the matter? A cloud passed over your face.” He crawled slowly onto the bed and took me into his strong arms, encircling my legs with his.

“You’ll laugh, and I’m embarrassed,” I said ducking my head as I felt the blush rising from my throat to cover my face in scarlet.

“Rose petal what is it? Your face is the shade of your hair! What could be so bad?” He turned my face up to his.

“Well I… I mean it’s silly I… That is…. Oh fuck!” I saw him start, he had never heard me curse before – boy was he in for a surprise. “It’s just that you are very well endowed, and I have always been rather small, and it’s been a very long time since I had sex. It threw me for a minute that’s all.”

He buried his head in my hair and I could feel him, jerking, trying not to laugh. I hit his arm and tried to squirm away from him.

“I’m not some squirrelly virgin or anything, but still…” Oh gods this was turning into a humiliation.

He brought his face to mine and looked at me for a long moment with those gorgeous eyes – how does a man get thick, curly eyelashes like that? He put his lips to mine and kissed me until my desire was so intense as to be unbearable. He worked his hand down my body in slow, small, circular caresses until he was again running his fingers through the curls between my thighs. I felt the rush of moisture as my body responded to him. He whispered in my ear, “I think we shall be all right. Trust me rose petal.” He traced his way down my neck with little bites and kisses that were electrifying my body, shooting flames of longing and craving for more through me. He spent a leisurely time at my breasts, nipping and sucking, as his fingers rubbed the hot fluid from my passage over the folds at the entrance. I lifted my hips with every caress, feeling the urgency building again, the need, the emptiness, the wanting.

He rose up on his elbows to look down at me. “You are so beautiful. I cannot have more time.” He reached across me to the bedside table and took a condom from the drawer rolling it onto his rigid shaft, then pushed my legs apart and set himself between them, his hand around his erection as he guided it to my entrance. I had never had sex that involved a condom and I watched the procedure in some fascination. He entered just inside the folds of my moist heat, and stopped as he bathed in the fluid that now coated me. I grabbed for his shoulders and dug in with my nails, calling his name in desperation, and pulling him to me. He pushed through in one long, hard thrust and I felt him in my womb. I came off the bed, the orgasm taking me by surprise and ripping through my body until all I could feel was him.

“Oh god, oh che'ri you are killing me. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot inside.” He rammed into me, his erection hard and urgent. I could feel the walls of my vaginal canal grabbing and milking him with the force of my climax, making him moan and increase the pace of his thrust. We were both covered in sweat and gasping for air. His smooth chest was pressed against my breast, my nipples searing a path across his skin.

“My blood feels as if it is boiling. You are so lovely. Your skin is on fire for me.” His hand fisted in my hair as he pounded into me, holding me close, so that his every thrust through my slick folds stimulated the bundle of nerves at my center. I was winding tighter and tighter as I felt the sensual storm breaking over me and reaching the peak. I felt like I had walked into a class five hurricane lashing the North Sea. His fingers dug into my hips holding me to him, controlling the pace, and increasing it until I felt my groin turn to butter. I became acutely aware of the firestorm of my climax tearing through my body as Hassan erupted into me and I came again, and again, until we both lay exhausted. He was holding onto me, his head on my neck, both of us straining for air. He moved, and I felt the jolt of small quakes and aftershocks passing through me, grabbing his shaft and squeezing him, he moaned and pulled me closer. We were so close together I couldn’t tell where I ended. I could feel his heartbeat through my chest as my own pounded in my ears. I could smell the roses on the table, and the sea breeze coming through the windows. The silky smoothness of the yellow Frette sheets on my back was damp with our sweat.

“What did you do to me? I have never experienced anything like that. Sacre’ment! You are a witch, woman,” he said raining kisses on my face, neck, and breast as his hands ran over my body finding every curve, every shadow.

“I have missed sex! I really like sex, and this was great sex." I could not stop grinning ear to ear like an idiot. He made love like you would expect – elegantly.

"That you enjoy sex my dear woman is self evident," he said smiling down at me. “You smell so good all the time,” he said burying his head in my neck, “and you are so soft. You are the softest woman I have ever known. I can’t get enough of kissing you, touching you. It is amazing to me – your.. enjoyment of sex. You make love with such abandon.”

“Enjoyment is a mild word, “ I said still feeling the soft aftershocks of our lovemaking as I ran my fingers up and down his back.

He played with my hair and wrapped one thick strand around his fingers. “My wife, as you know, was an Egyptian, she was circumcised as a girl. I’m afraid, as much as I tried, sex was never enjoyable for her. You, on the other hand, take wild joy in the act. It is very intoxicating to a man to have this reaction to his endeavors.”


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