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Holiday in Egypt

Author: Brad
 
Date Added: 08/02/2009
I was staying at the Sheraton in Luxor, independently. I had been to Egypt before, on a whistle stop tour of all the sites and places and had returned the following year to spend some time at the place I liked the best. I was close to the sights and monuments and yet was able to live in relative luxury.

Beyond the hotel grounds the city sprawled and sweltered in the June sun, the locals in their long robes coming and going frantically, oblivious to the searing heat. Within the hotel grounds it was almost impossible to sunbathe and I took to relaxing (when not on sightseeing trips) beneath a large umbrella beside the pool. Watching the rather boring looking tourists –no one fanciable at all.

On about the third day I became aware that the hotel allowed a few local youths into the grounds, presumably by way of bribes. When I thought about it I realised that I had noticed some of the lads on the previous evening. They were well dressed, polite and sat in small groups on the terrace drinking Kalkadi, Hibiscus tea in small glass cups. They did not seem to be bothering anyone but occasionally they spoke to the guests. It was inevitable then that one should finally speak to me.

I was at the pool side bar having a small beer when a youth of about nineteen or twenty came and sat beside me. Obviously Egyptian, (he spoke Arabic to the barman who scowled but allowed his presence) he was dressed in a smart white shirt and shorts that stood out marvellously against his dark skin. His face was boyish, smooth and untroubled by spots or hair and his smile, which revealed uncertain teeth, was pleasant. We got talking; his name was Ali and he offered to show me the outskirts of the city, his home, his father’s farm and any other non-tourist sites I cared to see.

I’ll cut to the chase here – he also showed me many other things and introduced me to many other locals.

The first time it happened, the first time I realised what his agenda was, we were at a local wedding. We had arrived (me the only non-Egyptian) by truck through a small village outside the city. The women, I remember, were all in the houses; I could see veiled faces behind the windows, the men were all in the streets. And in the square where the groom-to-be was dancing with at least a hundred local men while we, Ali and I and a few of his interested mates, sat in pride of place. He was showing me off, a tourist at a local wedding.

Another lad also called Ali (but for confusion’s sake we will call him Mahout,) was keen to get near and offer me tea. (Actually if I remember rightly the locals were surreptitiously drinking beer and smoking more than tobacco.) Mahout and Ali had a bit of a tussle about who should offer me the drink and some of it was spilled, conveniently, in my lap. Suddenly there were several pairs of hands dabbing at my crotch with handkerchiefs, faces smiling at me, Ali winking, youthful Arabic hands eager to please me by drying my groin, pressing too hard, big knowing smiles.

I twigged.

The next evening he invited me for a walk, out across the fields and into the night. We held hands – not uncommon in those parts – and drifted far from the road. We did not speak, I knew what was coming.

In the middle of nowhere under the stars and a jet black sky, he turned to face me. He was little more than a shadow his smile was about the only thing I could make out. His smile and his hands as he undid the buttons on my fly. He was on his knees within seconds, his soft, hot lips around my cock, sucking it to full erection, his hands on my hips for support. I placed mine on his head, he was half Nubian, very dark, curly hair, short. His head slid expertly around my shaft, his fingers started to fondle my balls. Very soon I was close to coming, I told him so. He did not hear or understand. I shot into his mouth, he pulled back, taking the rest on his face I guess. Then he stood up and pushed me gently down.

I knew what I had to do. I took out his cock, yes it was huge, cut and smelled slightly of piss and sweat. It was like a pole in my inadequately small hand as I guided it to my mouth, stretched my lips to take what I could. Only about half fitted, filled me, I ran my hands over his smooth arse, slid my fingers into his sweaty crack and felt him thrust desperately against me. He came within seconds, grunting ‘drink the milk’ and wanting me to swallow all of it. I withdrew and caught the last of it on my cheek.

That was it. That was the first time. There were others involving Ali and a friend at his house one night, a threesome while the family slept outside the door. Mahout and I had an encounter, he rode me on his bike from the hotel to a house. Another man stood guard at the door while I sucked off his long, eighteen year old cock, its head almost too big for my mouth. A waiter at the hotel came knocking at my door one afternoon while I was sleeping, I knew what he wanted, I invited him in, he dropped his trousers. No sooner was he in my mouth than he exploded unexpectedly. He smiled, sheepish, and left.

And then I took a flat in town and stayed an extra week. The lads were lining up to visit me…

But I’ll save those stories for another day.

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