An adventurous ex-pat finds the answer to her loneliness in the arms of a dashing stranger.

Cairo overwhelmed me. It wasn’t just the ancient ruins and monuments, spectacular as they are. No, what really overwhelmed me was the sheer size and vitality of the city. At least 15 million people are crammed into an endless maze of streets — millions more people than live in any city in America or Europe. Robed Bedouins talking on cell phones to stockbrokers in Hong Kong. Berbers in aviator sunglasses driving donkey carts. Men in turbans, fezzes, baseball caps. Women veiled head to foot, walking side by side with chic Westernized women in high heels and designer clothes. There are bazaars and marketplaces, grand hotels and even grander mosques, casinos, nightclubs, cafés by the hundred — and the traffic, the noise! It’s an impossible city, but it’s also irresistible. Within a day or two, I was in love with the place.

I came to Egypt late in the spring, to teach English at one of the prep schools that catered to the children of diplomats and wealthy businessmen. That was the official reason I was in Cairo, anyway. The more personal reason is because I’d recently ended a long-term love affair back in New Orleans, and I wanted to make a clean break with things and get a fresh perspective on my life. When I heard about the opportunity to teach in Cairo for the summer, I jumped at the chance and applied for the job.

I was supposed to start teaching in June, a couple of weeks after I arrived in Egypt. The school had reserved a small apartment for me on campus, but it wouldn’t be available until a few days before the term began.

That was just as well, because I loved the hotel I was staying in. Built at the turn of the century, at the height of British imperialism, it was an imposing white building with a dusty lobby fitted out with rattan furniture and potted palms. I had a suite on the top floor, and to get there I had to take an antique elevator, a sort of mesh cage that ascended as slowly as drifting smoke. As I passed each floor, anyone who cared to could look right up my skirt.

My room was large and charmingly shabby, with a high ceiling and shuttered windows that opened onto a small balcony. The view alone was worth the price of the room. Spread out beneath me in every direction were the gold and pink and sand-colored domes and rooftops of Cairo. Close at hand, the twin minarets of the El Hussein mosque towered nearly 300 feet into the air. And further off, on the gleaming Nile, I could see dhows and white-sailed feluccas sailing up and down the river.

“I was breathless with the bliss that was rising inside me.”

My first night at the hotel, I was so jet-lagged and over-excited that I had a hard time getting to sleep. After tossing and turning until three in the morning, I finally decided to masturbate in the hope that after I came, I’d be able to rest.

Lying there naked on the bed, with a slowly turning ceiling fan creaking overhead, I sat up and began arousing myself. Lifting one of my large breasts to my mouth, I bent and started sucking on the gumdrop-like nipple. After a minute or two, I switched to my other breast and continued sucking until I was wet between my legs, the growing ache in my pussy calling me to more serious action.

After I lay back against the pillows again, I licked my fingertips and got to work on my clitoris. I kept rotating my fingers on my swollen button, first in one direction and then the other. I felt prickly heat spreading through my cunt and radiating throughout my body, and my clit was tingling, but every time an orgasm approached, it just as quickly receded and faded. It was like waiting for an oncoming wave to sweep me away — a wave that almost but never quite broke. My body was bathed in sweat from the maddening exertion.

Out of sheer stubbornness, I persisted in diddling myself until a short, hard burst of pleasure flared within me. I arched my back and cried out loudly, letting the sensations rock me. At long last, I turned onto my side and drifted off.

I spent most of the next day exploring the narrow streets of Cairo. I hadn’t the faintest idea where I was going, but by chance I wandered into the Khan al-Khalili, the largest souk in Egypt. It’s been a thriving marketplace for more than 600 years, with hundreds of little stalls and booths selling everything from priceless Persian carpets to powdered aphrodisiacs. Set in a shadowy maze of alleys and passageways, the souk was thronged with people and the air was saturated with the smell of cardamom-scented coffee and cheap, flowery perfume.

Late in the afternoon, I finally wandered out of the market and made my way toward a nearby cafe. But when I entered the place and tried to take a seat, an officious little man rushed over and barred my way. Gesturing with his hands, he rattled off something in Arabic, but I couldn’t understand a word he said.

And then one of the customers sitting nearby stood up and came to my rescue. Too flustered to do more than glance at him, I had a brief impression of a darkly handsome man in a crisp white shirt.

“Madame,” he said gravely. “Can I assist you?”

“Yes, please do. I’d like a table, that’s all.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile and said, “But this cafe doesn’t serve women, I’m afraid.”

Flushing with embarrassment, I said, “ Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. Please — let me show you to another place.”

Why was I so compliant? Why did I let a complete stranger take me by the arm and walk me down the street? Certainly I wouldn’t have behaved that way at home, but then this wasn’t the United States and I couldn’t help feeling a rush of gratitude toward him for coming to my aid. And besides, at second and third glance, he was even more good-looking than I’d first realized. About my age, I guessed, in his late thirties, he had neatly combed black hair and walnut-brown skin, and his dark piercing eyes were exquisite. His features were strongly masculine, and he radiated an air of confidence and composure.

We wound up sitting together in another café just a block away. At his suggestion, I ordered a cup of karkedeh, or hibiscus leaf tea, and we spent a half-hour chatting and smoking acrid Turkish cigarettes. His name, he told me, was Khalid, and he worked as a newspaper journalist. He’d been educated in London, he said, and his English was impeccable although at times a bit formal and stilted. When I told him I was from New Orleans, his eyes lit up.

“Ah — jazz,” he said eagerly. “Mr. Louis Armstrong.”

What a lovely man , I thought, suppressing a smile. I nodded and said, “Yes, that’s right.”

When it came time for me to leave, Khalid asked me if he could show me around Cairo the next day. Given his kindness and courtly manners — and yes, his astonishingly good looks — I was more than happy to accept his offer. Gathering up my things, I told him the name of my hotel and then he escorted me out to the street and hailed a passing cab.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said." About noon?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

Giving him my warmest smile, I stepped into the taxi and then smoothed down my skirt and settled back in the seat. As the cab took off down the street, I closed my eyes and started daydreaming about Khalid. He had such lovely golden bronze skin, whereas I’m ivory. Naked, side by side, we’d look beautiful together, I thought. In my mind, I pictured his hands on my breasts, and then his mouth on my pussy, slipping his tongue inside while I held myself open with my fingertips.

Snapping out of it, I opened my eyes and glanced down at my bust. I could tell that my nipples had gotten hard. They weren’t showing through my dress, but I felt them pressing and tingling against the lacy cups of my bra. I crossed my legs and flexed my inner muscles. Not only was my pussy sticky-wet, but my clitoris was pulsing, and I spent a moment debating with myself whether or not I should masturbate when I got back to my room. But then I thought, Don’t make yourself any hornier than you already are. Let it go…

Promptly at noon the next day, Khalid picked me up at my hotel. He was driving an old black Citroën, buffed to a high polish, with brown leather seats and a little fan swiveling back and forth on the dashboard. To get me oriented, he first drove up into the Muqattam Hills, where we lunched on chicken tagine at an open-air restaurant that looked down on the city. Pointing out this or that landmark — the fabulous Blue Mosque, the Hanging Church in the old Coptic Quarter — he talked with evident pride about the city’s rich history.

“But don’t let me bore you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me if I go on too long.”

“Don’t be silly. You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” I responded. I meant every word I said. I found him charming and couldn’t have asked for a better guide.

After we finished eating, we drove through one of the oldest parts of Cairo, the Fustat District, and then through downtown and over to the Nile, where Khalid hired a felucca to take us on a cruise along the river. Sitting together in the stern of the little craft, with his arm around my waist and my auburn hair ruffling in the breeze, I fairly purred with happiness. I was dressed more modestly than I would have been back in the States — not even a smidgen of cleavage showing, and very little leg — but reflected in Khalid’s eyes, I felt sexy and radiant.

“My orgasm sparked in an instant, like a sharp match strike.”

Night had settled down over the city when we finally got back to my hotel. I was hoping Khalid would kiss me hard. I mean, right on my mouth, but instead he gave me a polite peck on the cheek and asked if he could call me again.

“By all means,” I said, smiling. “And thanks so much, Khalid. I had a wonderful time.”

That kiss I’d been hoping for finally happened a few nights later. We’d gone out to a nightclub in downtown Cairo, and afterward, walking me up the steps of my hotel, he took me in his arms and kissed me full on the mouth. It was a long, long kiss — the first real kiss I’d had in ages — and it left me shaken and breathless. Without saying a word, I held him tightly by the hand and led him through the lobby and over to the elevator.

Upstairs in my room, with the lights off and moonlight flooding in through the open window, I lifted my hair off my neck and asked him to unzip my dress. As he pulled the zipper down to the curve of my rear end, I could feel the cool evening breeze on my bare back, and then he ran his fingers up my spine and unfastened my bra.

With a shrug of my shoulders, my dress went sliding down my body and settled in a silken puddle around my feet. Taking off my bra, I dropped it beside my dress and then sat down on the bed. In a sort of dreamy daze, I took off my heels and my wristwatch, my earrings and bracelets; and when there was nothing left to remove except my panties, I slipped beneath the sheets and slid out of my underwear.

Not long afterward, Khalid was standing by the bed, naked and erect, with his bronze skin gleaming in the moonlight. Flat-bellied, narrow in the hips and broad through the shoulders, he had a muscular chest adorned with dark brown nipples. Down below, rising out of a nest of black pubic hair, his large, hammer-hard penis was as smooth as burnished wood and as darkly complected as the rest of his body.

Throwing back the sheets, I beckoned him to join me. He did, and I gathered him into my arms and then spread my legs and let out a long-drawn sigh. His penis fit my pussy perfectly, stretching me just enough to send flickers of tension and sexiness into my thighs. And once he settled into me up to his balls, I could feel his glans nudging my cervix. I hadn’t had sex in many months, and those first moments when he filled up my empty pussy moved me so deeply that my eyes misted over.

Murmuring something to me in Arabic, Khalid kissed me gently on my mouth. I love kissing better than almost anything, and to be kissed that softly, with his erection ensconced inside my body, enraptured me completely.

We started fucking at a firm, steady pace. The room was silent but for the sound of our breathing and the wet noise of his plundering of my sloppy pussy. My breasts were jiggling, but as Khalid began thrusting more vigorously, my tits rocked mesmerizingly in time with his thrusts.

Eventually, Khalid’s penis was darting in and out of my cunt at a terrific speed. I was terribly aroused and responding to him fully. My lust was spiraling upward at a steady rate, and I was nearly breathless with the bliss that was rising inside me. But what I really wanted to feel at that moment was the pulse and throb of his cock as he reached his release within the pliant walls of my quivering sex.

“Come for me, Khalid,” I finally whispered.

Filled up with his cock and equally filled with emotion, I flexed my vagina around his penis, tightening up my core and caressing his shaft with the velvet of my pussy, until at last he surrendered and filled me with his cream. Khalid continued thrusting in and out of my body, grinding his hips against me and striking my clit just so. My orgasm sparked in an instant, like a sharp match strike, and my cries of delight melded with his, creating a joined chorus of ecstasy. Our coupling was the perfect anecdote to the emptiness that I had been feeling. My connection with my brand-new lover fulfilled me in ways I hadn’t even known I’d been craving. But I did know that I wanted more. I wanted everything he could give me for the short time that we would have together.

Shortly after that night, Khalid told me he wanted me to see “the other Egypt,” as he put it — the Egypt of his ancestors. And the next weekend, a few days before I was supposed to start teaching, he rented a Land Rover and took me on a long trip out into the desert. Our goal was the Bahariya Oasis, a couple of hundred miles to the southwest of Cairo. We left the city well before dawn, and not long after crossing the Nile, we were in the desert and moving along a macadam road beneath the vast dome of the sky. Sand dunes stretched away as far as the eye could see, some of them hundreds of feet high. The heat was blistering and relentless and yet oddly sensual — it slowed me down like a narcotic and left me dazed and horny.

Late in the afternoon, the road began descending along a rocky escarpment, down into a deep depression in the desert floor, where the Bahariya Oasis was spread out for miles. Coming from the harshness of the desert, it was a different world entirely — all green and lush, with spring-fed pools surrounded by date palms and apricot trees, and groves of olives and oranges and mangoes.

Smiling happily, I touched Khalid’s arm and said, “Goodness — it’s like paradise!”

“Wait till you see the stars at night,” he told me. “Millions of them, shining like diamonds.”

There was an old village hidden within the oasis, with houses made of mud bricks baked to the hardness of cement. In the village square, a dozen or so hobbled camels were lying on the ground, parked in the shade of overhanging palm trees. They had gorgeous long-lashed eyes and the disdainful look of snooty women.

There was a little inn facing the square, made of the same mud bricks as the other buildings. Khalid rented us a room, and after we finished unpacking our gear, we stripped naked and lay down to take a rest. Both of us were too tired to make love, so we quickly dozed off, holding hands.

I don’t know how long I slept, but sometime later, I came awake with a violent start. The room was dark and a furious wind was shrieking through the trees outside. I’d never heard such a sound — it was a high, keening, dreadful noise, and it scared me so much that I clapped my hands over my ears.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see Khalid on the other side of the room, stuffing rags and scraps of newspapers beneath the door. Frightened out of my wits, I stumbled off the bed and went running over to him. The floor beneath my bare feet was gritty with blown sand, and the wind was howling so loudly that I had to shout to get Khalid’s attention.

“What is it?” I yelled. “What’s going on?”

Putting his mouth close to my ear, he shouted, “It’s the Khamseen. The burning wind. But don’t worry — we’ll be all right here.”

The Khamseen: the very word made my blood run cold. He was talking about one of the horrifying sandstorms that sweep in from the Sudan and sometimes rage for days. If we’d been caught on the road when the storm arrived, we might well have been buried beneath the drifting sand.

“Come to bed,” I pleaded. “I’m scared, Khalid!”

When we lay down together, he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I could feel his penis gradually stiffening against my thigh, and my fear was quickly replaced by lust. Angling my body just so, I placed the head of his cock against my opening and then wiggled around until he slipped into my pussy. We rocked together, moving our bodies slowly and rhythmically, but soon we each needed something more.

After a moment, he pulled out of me and turned me over onto my stomach. The next thing I knew, he’d parted my cheeks and began lovingly tonguing my back hole. I’d never had someone do that to me before, and the fluttering and flicking against my sensitive opening made me desperately turned on. While Khalid licked my asshole, I reached down and played with my clit. I couldn’t help myself. I needed something more. I wanted to come so bad. Khalid teased me until I was practically begging him to put his cock in my ass. I didn’t have to wait long. Khalid repositioned himself and thrust into my pussy a few more times to coat his hard-on with my abundant honey. Then he parted my cheeks once more and worked his slickened dick into my rear passage.

Khalid’s thickness meant he had to strain to get his knob inside me. The shock of his entry made me feel like a virgin. His insistence and unyielding advance thrilled me to my core. Once he was fully seated, he paused. I could feel his erection pulsing wildly within the confines of my ass. My opening gradually relaxed, accommodating his sturdy staff. I took a deep breath that I released slowly. Khalid must have sensed my surrender because that’s when he began to actively thrust in and out of my asshole. Each time his pelvis slapped against my fleshy ass cheeks, I experienced an overwhelming wave of pleasure. I needed more, and I needed it now. Resting on my elbows, I began to rock backward to meet each of his thrusts. My cries raised in volume as he repeatedly reamed my back hole.

“Yes, do it to me!” I yelled. “Take my ass!”

As he grabbed my hips and began thrusting in earnest, the dull throbbing ache in my rear end turned into an exquisite torment. The continual swat of his pendulous balls against my vulva was edging me ever closer to a stunning climax. I could feel it swelling inside me. Then Khalid surprised me by gripping a fistful of my hair into his hand and pulling as she thrusted deep inside me. My pussy felt like it was on fire! I was tingling all over. I wanted him as deep and hard inside me as was humanly possible. I moaned and screamed as he took me from behind.

“I was still bucking and coming when Khalid called out my name.”

While Khalid fucked my ass, the screeching wind rose up another octave, and the fury of the raging storm got into my blood and drove me into a frenzy. Long before my orgasm arrived — even when it was way off in the distance, just a small wave not even cresting — I knew it would rush through my body and shatter me into pieces. Right before I climaxed, I threw a wild glance over my shoulder.

In a stunned voice, I said, “You angel — you’re making me come!”

In a voice just as choked with emotion, he told me I deserved every bit of pleasure the world had to offer, and precisely at that moment, my anus tightened around his cock and an orgasm as bright as burning phosphorus shot through me. I was still bucking and coming when Khalid called out my name and sent his semen shooting into my behind.

The Khamseen howled all night; but in the morning, the storm had passed. I was safe in Khalid’s arms, no longer afraid of anything.

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