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Morocco free porn video
Morocco
by OttoRank©
I am thinking about that time in Morocco. It was a dangerous time in 1930. You and I went to visit Alexis and her lover Pytor in the lower side of Tangier. We had a wonderful afternoon strolling the long narrow alleyways browsing for nicks and knacks. The streets were filled with cinnamon and oranges. Small boys rushed about in bandit ways. It was a bustling African port city. Women dressed in Muslim fashion glanced out of black dress. Small boys ran in and out playing games of tag or petty crime. The sun was hot and cast dark shadows into the back of shops. Eyes peered out of the darkness.
Alexis took us to this sunny café for a little luncheon and we talked of her expatriate life and drank wine. She was dazzling in her youth and richness. Her old European money, which on one hand she rejected with Marxist philosophy, and on the other, bought her the lifestyle of the bohemian artist, and her artist lover, the blond Russian. They were both so beautiful, She so blond and English, he so blond and chiseled, a tree. After the wine, we smoked a little hashish from the hookah that Alexis purchased from some depth in the back of the café. It was a warm and wonderful afternoon.
The sun and the conversation did lull you, I noticed. You were staring out at the bay looking at young Egyptian sailors rig sails. You were happily sloppy, a far away look in your eyes in a far away place. I suggested a nap for the afternoon, and we all agreed that lunch had lasted too long. We set a date for dinner at midnight at Alexis's flat and said our goodbyes.
The hotel Alhambra had given us a wonderful suite of rooms. High bright windows cast the afternoon sun in long beams across the marbled floors. A breeze rustled the lace curtains and brought in the fragrances of the street. Cardamom, lemons, sage. A magnificent bed lay in the sun's light to one side of the large room, easy to the breeze, and the sheets were very white. You gazed for a while at the street four flights below. You were drunk, and high.
"I love this place," you said, "it's so hot... and I feel it to my heart". You smiled and dropped the dress from your shoulders. Your flesh blazed in the sunlight against the window.
You were hot. Your skin glistened with the afternoon heat. " I feel like a cat," you giggled, and then slipped onto the sheets naked to nap.
"I'm going down for a newspaper and some cigarettes... I'll be back in a while, my sweet," I said, leaning across you to nuzzle your neck.
You reached out and caressed a place at the top of my legs. "Bring me back a little of this before supper," you laughed, and then you rolled on your side. "Ohh. I'm so high..." and you were asleep.
In the lobby, I passed a girl selling flowers and oranges. She was talking to Hamid, the tall young man who worked as the hotel's bellman. I gave her a few franks and asked her to bring a bottle of water and some oranges up to our room. She smiled and said she would. The tall youth smiled as well.
I went down the corner to a place where the foreign papers came mostly daily and tried to find a copy of "The Times" of London and some American cigarettes. The owner said that the "Times" had not come in weeks... but that he had saved a copy of the "Globe" which had come from Gibraltar. He had no American tobacco but there was French. We passed some pleasantries about a ship that had passed recently into the Mediterranean and the various movements of the Germans in Algiers. I bought some small chocolates thinking they would compliment the oranges I had purchased earlier.
The lobby was empty when I came in from the afternoon street. The shadows of the west were getting longer and my own stretched tall into the dark hotel. The suite had two rooms and I took another door in so as not to wake you. I was quiet and closed the door with a whisper. I was just settling into my chair in the sitting room when I was startled by the awareness of another presence, unexpected. As I looked into the bedroom I saw frozen against the window the tall figure, Hamid.
He apparently had brought the water and oranges up into the suite. Thinking no one was in he had slipped into the room to deliver the delicacies, using his passkey. There he saw you sprawled in the sunlight, naked on the bed. Your body was dazzling in its whiteness and I, staring, had caught him. He was stock still in his terror.
The silhouette he cast beneath his white muslin Djibouti was lean and athletic, a body of a runner. His skin was a deep, dark walnut, almost Negroid. His long, thin face was that mix of Moor and Mediterranean that defied a racial origin. He could be Egyptian, Arabic, or Greek, no one could tell. It was enough, that he was dark, and long, and young... and clearly aroused.
As I stood to approach him, he shifted suddenly as if to flee past me. I held my finger to my lips, as if to bid him be silent. I held out my other hand openly, warmly and waved it slightly toward your body as if I was presenting you upon a stage. My eyes met his in an inquiring fashion, and my smiled betrayed a trace of mischief. At first, he remained wary, until I sat upon the end of the bed. He relaxed a bit and I motioned him to sit as well. We both sat and gazed upon your sun-splashed body. You lay in the sun on your side. Your skin had the mildest slick from the heat, and your breasts glistened.
"Hmmmmm," you moaned, cat-like, still asleep. "You came back to give me a little present. I've been waiting. It's warm and I'm still so high."
"This is a surprise," I said, quietly. "You cannot peek." and I took my silk cravat and tied it carefully about your head.
"Ohhhh, I like this kind of surprise," you said, and you reached out and touched my hands.
"Lie still," I commanded gently, placing your hands at your sides. "I want to stroke your fire." At this, I grabbed the bellman's wrist and moved his hands along your shoulders. He smiled cautiously as you purred. As if he were my puppet, I had him caress the length of your body, along your sides, along your breasts, along your thighs. You were quiet as this play took place, only the occasional inward gasp of breath. I had his fingers trace your face and neck. I had his hands make circles on your belly. I took his cheek and brushed across your thighs. You swirled in contentment and rising desire.
My young friend became aroused as well. I disrobed him to reveal an enormous erection, a dark penis so thick at its base that I could not put my hand around it. It curved upward in a long, thick arc, a mahogany spear with a bright carmine head. I laid him alongside you and you arched a leg around him, commanding him to enter.
You touched his smooth chest and started suddenly, "What?!" you gasped.
"Shuuush, my love. This is a gift. Take it in." You acquiesced; knowing the lover to your front was not I, but another. Your encircled leg tightened and impaled you deep upon Hamid's huge cock. You kissed hungrily and began to rock, and he to you.
At this, I removed the mask my cravat had made and you gazed upon the young man who thrust deeply into your body. His smooth brown face and red mouth became your food. You pushed and pulled seeking his cock. Watching this erotic dance, I too became aroused. Removing my trousers, I joined you in the bed, stroking your back and reaching for your breasts from behind. Hamid grunted as he thrust himself against you. I reached down and felt the pulsing course of cock and cunt. The place between your thighs was slick with the mingling of two fucking bodies. I stroked his cock as I stroked your cunt. My fingers became slick with your lubricant. I needed to join this dance. I lay as a spoon to your back and kissed your neck. Your arched leg about the boy gave entrance to a dark place as you rocked back and forth.
With my own penis, I slid myself into your vault and you moaned again, completely filled. You had become the meat of a sandwich of men, and yet it was into you to whom they plunged and clung so deeply. Your loins became a pendulum of pleasure as your pelvis was filled in any direction you moved. The rhythm that had been slow and steady built faster and more urgent. The three of us rushing into each other's bodies. You clawed the young body in front of you, thrusting his horn into your belly. The thickness of his cock rubbing all of you completely.
Your tongue plunged wildly into his mouth as mine plunged deeply into your ear. All became a confusion of sense and sweat that had no boundary or beginning as you cried. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," became a mantra as you thrust back and forth. In waves, you began to shudder, and there was no more control to your dance. Your head arched back to senselessly kiss me as your body throbbed upon two men who had faded into unreality.
We stroked you quietly in the sunlight for some time. Spent. Completed. The smell of oranges and cinnamon came into the room on the breeze.
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