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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

Send any and all comments to; [email protected]  I need response to keep writing!  





"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

Send any and all comments to; [email protected]  I need response to keep writing!
 
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