I fuck the hotel manager and more, much, much more!
It was fucking crazy really or even crazy fucking if you like.
He was a manager in a hotel, I was a guest. He was married and in his early forties. I was single in my early twenties. He was dark skinned, dark eyed and dark haired. I am an English rose; pale skin, though I do tan and get freckles, natural blonde shoulder length hair and blue eyes. He had an athletic body and a sturdy build along with an equally sturdy cock. I am slim and of average height with smallish, pert thirty four b tits and am told a great 'ass.' He's Egyptian I am English, he was at work, I was on holiday at the Hyatt in Sharm el Sheikh in Egypt.
I had booked it on a whim thinking it would be a nice rest and the chance to get some sun before the English winter sets in. I asked around my mates so see who might come with me for a ten-day November break. No luck so sod it I went by myself. I knew it might be awkward at meal times, but what the hell? I was soon on an Easyjet flight from Luton for the very cramped five hour flight. Fortunately, the transfer from the airport to the hotel was only ten minutes or so and to make it even better it was by cab and not a coach.
The place was crawling with Russians, mainly fat blokes who smoked and drank a lot and ate every meal as if it was their last. They all seemed to be accompanied by blonde, stick insect thin girls with blown up boobs and legs that seemed to go on for ever. With the five inch heels and stacked soles of their shoes, loads of make-up, hair extensions, fake tans, miniscule bikinis, mostly thongs and ultra-skimpy dresses they looked like hookers.
I had been hit on several times by some of the Russian guys when their birds had gone on shopping trips and by a group of English kids who really thought they were god's gift. To me they were more like football hooligans; foul mouthed, loud and as thick as planks. I ignored them all as this was a holiday for me to relax and tone up my tan, not to get laid.
It was the morning of the third day when I met Ahmed. He had obviously seen the guys hitting on me and asked if I would like a sun lounger in the upper pool that was smaller and where reservations were needed; it was more a family pool. I thanked him and thoroughly enjoyed my sunbathing. I saw him several times that day and the early evening.
"If you would prefer I could move you to the club pool, it's quieter there, no children" he suggested.
"Would I need to pay extra?"
"No, compliments of the management" he smiled.
"Can you do that?"
"Yes of course, after all I am the management" he went as he handed me a business card.
It had Ahmed al Mahani, Deputy General Manager and the name and contact numbers for the hotel and his mobile. I was impressed.
He spoke very good English as many Egyptians do. He told me that he lived in Cairo with his wife and children and drove or flew to and from Sharm where he would usually work for fourteen straight days and then go home again for three or four. We got on well. I sort of felt sorry for him missing his wife and children and having to go without sex for two weeks, although I often did that so it was a bit daft really. I found him very interesting. He had a degree in law, but had come into the hospitality business as he couldn't get a job in that profession, a not uncommon situation in the country that always seemed to be on the brink of civil war. This was just before Mubarak was forced out as President to be replaced by the military and a fuck lot of good that has done!
One thing led to another and on the fifth afternoon after the sun had gone down at around five and he was checking the pool he suggested we have a drink and continue the conversation. He said that he was not supposed to mix with the guests in the hotel or restaurants in Naama Bay or Soho Square adding.
"And in any case I don't really drink." I had forgotten he was a Muslim, although many Egyptians do drink alcohol.
"Well you must drink Pepsi or something."
"Yes of course."
"And presumably we could continue chatting here?"
"For a while yes, but my shift ends in" he said looking at his watch. "Twenty minutes."
"So we could just carry on talking?"
"Yes, but I have to go to prayers then dinner at six."
I was wearing a black bikini with yellow splashes on the bra and panties. It was quite brief and as we had been chatting I had seen his eyes roaming over my boobs and legs. I liked that.
"Tell you what, come to dinner in my room."
"How can we do that?"
"I can order room service."-
"But they would see me."
"You could go in the bathroom or out the patio doors" I told him.
And that was how I came to be lying on my bed three hours later naked with Ahmed between my open legs. They were wrapped round his waist as he fucked me. He was a great fuck and we did it again less than an hour later. So much for me not being interested in sex on this holiday!
He was incredibly considerate, polite and kind and simply a really nice guy. He was very interested in me and not just my tits and getting into my knickers. Coming from a wealthy family he had gained a degree in law from London before attending Egypt's top university in Alexandria to convert that to Egyptian law. When studying he had lived in a flat in Bloomsbury that was close to where I was now studying at drama school and we had numerous restaurants and places where we had something in common. He asked a lot about the UK and we found so much to talk about. He told me about his life in Cairo and his career with the hotel group that was based in Bahrain and owned and operated some twenty hotels throughout the Middle East. His family was a shareholder in the group so as he put it 'getting promotion was fairly easy.' We talked about his wife and family and jokingly I asked.
"You have just one wife?"
Laughing he replied that one was enough, but as I asked more about that he told me that he had several friends that had more than one.
On top of all that we had in common, he was also an amazing fuck as only older guys can be in my opinion.
His working day was seven to six, but he had two breaks during the day. One for forty minutes at ten thirty when he had to pray and another for an hour and a half at one when he had lunch. Most days after that we had both lunch and dinner together in my room and sometimes he blew out the praying at ten thirty as well. He had an enormous appetite for sex and me, but then mine matched his so that was something else we had in common.
I suddenly realised that I was falling for him. I couldn't help it, I didn't want to and I tried to resist, but I just couldn't stop myself. I knew it was fucking crazy, a holiday romance for Christ's, or Allah's sake. And with a married man in his forties who had a wife and three children waiting for him in Cairo. Of course there was no future, there was no way there could be.
Sitting round the hotel I would watch his every move, I would catch his eye and smile. He would come over to me, we would stare into each other's eyes and he would ogle my tits as I looked at his stomach wondering if he was getting hard. We gave each other lingering gazes, stood closer than was necessary and found reasons to touch each other when, hopefully, no one was looking.
We had made love; to me we no longer fucked, and were lying on my bed naked. He told me about his wife Halima.
"It means gentle in Arabic" he said adding. "She is very Egyptian" he said getting a photo from his wallet. "And has an Egyptian body not an English one like yours" he went on running his fingers lightly up and down my chest and into my landing strip of blonde pubic hairs as he showed me the photo of a curvy, slightly chubby, but pretty woman, with big tits and a big nose that is common with Arabs. "I prefer English now" he went on.
I kissed him and whispered. "You shouldn't say that Ahmed."
"I can't help it Sammi, it's true."
"Oh Ahmed" I groaned.
