Vacation in Morocco

I'm Michelle, a 30-year-old Brazilian. I'm 5'8", I have dark brown, shoulder-length, curly hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, big breasts and a curvy, hourglass figure (32D-25-36) wide hips, thick thighs, a big, round bum and a shaved pussy. Truth be told I'm something of an exhibitionist and from time to time I have been known to get very naughty in public.

I went to Morocco in the summer of 2018. I had gone to the port city of Tangiers for the day while on vacation in Spain. I decided to stay for longer and stayed in Marrakesh and Casablanca (where I got a lovely brass dish for free from a souvenir shop after agreeing to show the owner of the shop my tits). I learned of a small town on the edge of the Sahara Desert called Erfoud and went there, travelling on a crowded minibus with a group of other people.

I found accommodation with a family that had a hotel close to the city center. I was one of only three guests there, and the family would let me walk about the entire hotel as if I were a family member. Nowhere was off limits. A younger guy called Hamza wanted to be my best friend and would regularly volunteer to do things for me no matter how small from offering to be my guide around the city, to being my interpreter to doing my laundry. This was during the summer, and of course, I wanted to sunbathe and use my bikinis which I'd brought with me from Brazil, especially as my time in Morocco was coming to an end. The problem was that the city is home to some very conservative Muslims (like most of the population) who are unlikely to want to see a busty non-Muslim Brazilian woman semi-nude in public. The hotel was a tall building so in the morning of my last day, I asked Hamza to bring me to the roof of the hotel via a small flight of stairs.

The roof of the hotel was used by Hamza's mother to spread out the clean clothes and I thought it would be ideal for sunbathing. Hamza agreed, but there was one little problem and he pointed to a tower.

"It is a minaret." He explained.

"A what?" I'd never heard of one before.

"When the prayer time, a man called to the people from the top of the minaret and he could see to here..."

"But prayer times are specific, aren't they?"

"Yes. Five times every day."

"Well, what if I come here to sunbathe when it's not prayer time? Who would see me?"

Hamza smiled and I could see he was thinking about the implications of what I was saying.

"Okay." He said. "Leave it to me. I will check the schedules of prayer time and we will arrange."

Later that day, Hamza came to my room with a burqa, saying I would need to use it until we were up on the roof. I took the burqa from him and closed the door. I undressed and changed into the smallest bikini I had, a light blue micro-fio bikini which would show off my curves and leave little to the imagination. I dressed in the burqa, got my beach bag which contained my beach things, and left the room, following Hamza up to the roof.

There was a small concrete shed where Hamza's mother kept the detergents and cleaning things. Linen was extended on clothes lines and drying in the sun.

"Michelle, you can wait inside, please," said Hamza as he rolled out a prayer mat on the dusty roof and took off his shoes. "I'll pray quickly now."

I watched as he washed his feet and arms, face and head. The sound of the call to prayer came from the tower and Hamza, facing Mecca, started to pray. I watched his movements from the shed, watching his prostrations and kneelings, thinking of myself being in front of him and the two of us being naked.

Hamza finished his prayers, waited a few minutes and looked up to the minaret. "Okay. The muezzin is gone now. Should be okay you take off burqa."

Under the burqa I had started to sweat so it was something of a relief to finally lift it up over my head and leave it on a peg before stepping out into the hot afternoon sun.

Hamza gasped and muttered something in Arabic as I emerged from the shade.

I smiled when I came to the prayer rug and lay down on it, taking the sun lotion from my bag and offering it to Hamza who took the suncream as I lay on my stomach. He began to apply the sun lotion on my back and shoulders by rubbing it on my skin with his big, dark-skinned hands. "You have soft skin," he said and he ran his hands down my back, stopping just above my butt. I wiggled with pleasure as he rubbed more, each time getting closer to my ass. I couldn't resist reaching behind and untying the string which held my bikini top to my chest. By now Hamza was stroking my butt, I felt the tips of his fingers sliding between my butt cheeks, his thumb pressing against the material of my bikini bottom and coming very close to rubbing my asshole. As I was feeling less inhibited, I rolled over onto my back, the bikini top falling to the side as I moved, putting my big tits on display. Again, Hamza muttered something in Arabic, with an oily hand rubbing my thigh and the other was sliding over my tummy upwards towards my big breasts and said, "I never seen big breasts like yours before, Michelle."

The sun was high in the blue sky overhead and there were no clouds. I could see Hamza sweating like I was as he rubbed sun lotion onto my tits, teasing my hard nipples with pinches and soft strokes. His hands continued to explore my body as he applied sun lotion and with each application his hands moved lower and lower until they found my bikini bottom. I sat up a little to untie the string which held my bikini bottom together and Hamza watched in silence as I raised my hips and pulled away the bikini bottom. I opened my legs to show him my pussy which I opened with my fingers to show him my clitoris and glistening wet love tunnel. The wetness of my pussy had made my lips slippery.

He helped me to my feet and led me to the shed where I had waited for him to finish his prayers, dragging the prayer rug with him. He lay it on the ground and started to undress quickly, every inch of his brown skin revealed as he took off the white clothes. Finally, there came the moment for him to take off his boxers, a promising bulge already making itself visible. Without a word, he pulled down the elastic of his boxers and the purple shiny head of his beautiful, circumcised penis became visible, fully erect as he pulled down the boxers which he dropped to the floor to reveal a pair of impressive balls hanging between his legs. The head of his cock was almost touching his belly button, the veins bulging as he held it in his hand. He stepped towards me, stepping onto the rug as my hands held on to the worktop which was behind me, my butt touching the smooth stainless steel.

He lifted me and I opened my legs wider. I wanted to feel that hard cock penetrate me, my vagina was very wet as he rubbed the head of that big cock on my wet slit. He held me by the waist and said something in Arabic before grabbing my boob and lifting it to his mouth and sucking on my nipple. I moaned as I wrapped my legs around his waist as his cock slid inside me slowly, stretching my pussy with its girth as it inched its way inside me, feeling pleasure fill my chest and abdomen as he held onto my thighs as he started thrusting that big cock back and forth, looking down at his cock as it slid in and out, seeing how wet it was with my love juice. I closed my eyes with pleasure as I felt his cock brush against every part of my pussy. He looked at me mesmerized as we fucked, clearly unable to believe what was happening. I could feel his balls slapping against my asshole with every thrust. We were both sweating as our bodies rubbed against each other, holding onto each other as tightly as possible. I felt a wave of intense pleasure fill my chest and abdomen as my legs and arms became weak. I could not resist the delicious feeling and I moaned as I orgasmed on that hard Muslim cock. He whispered in my ear that he hadn't had sex with a woman before and hadn't even jerked off for a long time, that he had a lot of cum for me and that he wanted to eat my asshole.

He slid his cock from my pussy and released me and I almost fell down off the worktop, dizzy with excitement and pleasure, looking at his wet, hard cock as I got on all fours on the rug where he slapped my ass before he parted my butt cheeks, exposing my butthole and buried his tongue in my ass. I felt his hot, wet tongue probing my asshole. I looked back to see him guiding his cock to my butt, feeling him rubbing the smooth head of his cock which was still wet with my pussy fluid on my wet asshole. I thought it would hurt as he slid the head of his cock into my initially resistent and then deeply welcoming asshole. He buried the rest of his cock in my ass, filling and stretching it as he thrusted further.

"Mmmm Michelle... I wanna cum... I'm gonna cum..."

He slid his cock from my asshole and I lay on my back on the prayer carpet and opened my legs.

"Cum inside me, Hamza..."

He knelt between my legs and guided his cock into my pussy again, and then lay on top of me as we fucked. He held me tightly to him, muttering softly in my ear in Arabic as his breathing became more labored, his big, hard cock thrusting about inside my pussy with more urgency. We kissed passionately for a few moments until I felt Hamza's body go rigid, his face a mask of ecstasy as he writhed on top of me in orgasm, filling my pussy with his warm jizz.

He collapsed on top of me and we lay there together for a few moments, our breathing and heart rates returning to normal, saying nothing. Hamza rolled off of me and lay beside me. I couldn't help but look at his big but wilting erection, his cock covered with a mixture of his own cum and my pussy fluid. I sat up and crouched over the prayer rug with my legs open, looking down and watching his cum drip out of my pussy, falling onto the prayer rug on the part where Hamza had put his forehead during his prayers.

"Now you need jump backwards nine times, otherwise you get pregnant." Hamza said with a naughty smile.

"I'm on the pill," I replied and leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, "so if you wanted to fuck me nine times, you could and I'd never get pregnant..."

We started to dress ourselves and I had just finished putting on the burqa as Hamza's mother was making her way onto the roof with a bundle of bed linen. We tried to have sex on more than one occasion throughout the rest of the day but it wasn't possible. Hamza's family threw a fairwell party for me. I would have given anything to feel Hamza's hard, circumcized member filling me again but there was no getting away from his family that night.

It was with a heavy heart I loaded my backpack onto the minibus early the next morning and was driven back to Casablanca. My last image of Hamza was seeing him watching me from the roof of the hotel, smiling fondly as the minibus made its way out of the city.

I haven't heard from Hamza since I arrived back in Brazil but I hope he is happy and I like to think that Hamza never washed out the stains of his cum which dripped onto the prayer rug from my pussy and maybe, as he faces Mecca and prays every day, like me, he thinks of that afternoon on the roof of his family's hotel.