Keywords> -- adults only -- muslim, wife, non-consensual, group, debauched.

Hafida the Moroccan

by the Camel Jockey

This is the story of my ex wife, Hafida, whom I had married following a trip to her small home town in the south of Morocco.  After reading this, you may think I'm being spiteful, but what the hell!  She was no saint either! 

We had only been married a few days when I found her arguing vehemently with her younger sister, Amina.  Now, if Hafida is a quiet, seemingly shy girl, then by comparison, Amina is a mouse!  I was very surprised then, when I found them engaged in a heated argument!  I managed to quieten them down, but only by threatening all sorts of mayhem.  Hafida stormed out of the room, muttering and swearing, leaving me alone with the younger sister.  Amina motioned me to sit down, and then, using her best (very broken!) French she managed to relate to me the reason why I had, at forty two, managed to marry her sister, an extremely beautiful twenty four year old Arab girl.  The cause of the argument was that Hafida had confided in Amina and had told her that she had married me solely to get out of Morocco, and get a European passport. She intended to leave me and find a nice young Arab guy once she had obtained said passport.  Amina, apparently, had grown to like me in the three weeks I had been staying with the family, and was outraged that her sister was using me so badly.  Needless to say, I was shocked by this revelation, but even so, as I thought the situation through, I was still getting quite a good deal!  Hafida, apart from being heart stoppingly gorgeous, is also, beleive it or not, a great cook!  I had popped her cherry on our wedding night, had witnessed her sexual awakening and had benefitting in no small measure from her ever increasing curiosity and sexual appetite!  It would be five years before she qualified for a passport, so I would be getting my money's worth, so to speak!  I could, I reasoned, live with the knowledge that I was just a pawn in her game!  I also had a lever, an edge, as they say!  If I divorced her, she would be shipped back home to Morocco, and her plans would come to nothing.  Knowledge is power, they say, and I now was well armed.

Logic is not all though.  Deep down I knew I felt angry, betrayed.  Very flatteringly, Amina told me that had she know Hafida's plan before, she would have told me, and that she would have married me.  These girls have a much different attitude to marriage than Western women.  Hafida, she reasoned, was not only being a cheat, but was also depriving her of something beneficial.   She had apparently, called down Allah's curse on her sister for deceiving me in the sacred ritual of marriage, so sparking a furious row!

A week later we were boarding the bus and heading for Europe.  I had told Amina to say nothing to anyone, and, after I explained that Hafida was tied to me for at least five years to get her passport, and that I had no objection to Hafida's scheme, she shrugged her shoulders and agreed to tell no one what she had told me.  She said I was mad to let Hafida use me like that, but she agreed to remain silent.  

The journey from Hafida's town to London, is quite a lengthy affair.  First the bus, or maybe a 'bush taxi' to Agadir, then an internal flight to Casablanca, and if you are lucky, an onward connection the same day to London.  We, however, were not.  Lucky, that is.  We missed the London flight by half an hour.  There was nothing for it but ot book into an hotel and get the flight the next after noon.  This time we were lucky.  A rather comfortable and not too expensive hotel had a room, and we booked in.  I was rather releived.  Most hotels in Morocco are shabby flea ridden things, charging a dollar a night, with all the cock roaches you can manage!  This hotel, however, was clean, modern, and at twenty dollars a night, cheap too!

We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping at the nearby airport mall, buying suitable clothes for Hafida.  A jalaba is not the warmest item of clothing in the world, and February in Europe is somewhat chilly!!  We also bought some, shall we say, 'more adventurous' under wear for her, to replace the rather frumpy plain stuff she usually wore.  Hafida was delighted abd in high spirits when we returned to our hotel.  She was now kitted out as she thought a woman should be.  Western style clothing, including bikini briefs, thongs etc., plus matching bras, some blouses, skirts (all ankle length) and a couple of pairs of shoes with modest heels.  The 'trying on' session back in our room was quite something!  It was lovely to witness her child like enthusiasm and excitement as she unwrapped and put on each new item.  

As I watched her I couldn't help thinking about Amina.  It could have been her beginning a new life with me, reaping the material benefits that her committment to me would have brought her.  Instead, it was Hafida who was harvesting the crop that deceit had yeilded.  Looking back, it did seem a shame that Amina's honesty had not been rewarded, but there again, who's to know if that honesty was real, or was she just as hollow as her sister?  I can tell you, however, that Amina married a local man, and remained with him (being mother to at least two of his children) for as long as I knew the family.  

Enough of the semantics though!  You want to hear about something else, right?  Right!  And so you shall!  

About seven thirty that evening, we went to find the restaurant, me dressed in jeans and a 't' shirt, whilst Hafida looked stunning in a cobalt blue, gold embroidered jalaba she had begged me to buy for her just before our wedding.  

Again I was pleasantly surprised.  Reasonable (plain and simple) food at reasonable prices.  And, unusually for a Moroccan owned hotel, wine!  Waiters in monkey suits seated us at a corner table, took our order, and presented us with a wine list.  Now, Hafida, being a typical small town girl, was not used to all this at all.  Not only was she being waited on, but waited on by men!  This to her was a revelation!  At home, she and her sisters served family and guests alike, so having people bring her food and generally run around after her was quite an eye opener.  As for wine, it was something she (a Muslim girl from the deep south of Morocco, remember?) had heard about, but had never seen, never mind tasted!   When the waiter brought us a bottle of what was undoubtedly a cheap French table wine, she stared wide eyed at it.  I poured her a glass and motioned her to try it.  She very hesitatingly sniffed it then sipped at it.  She winced a little as she swallowed.  Cheap and cheerful is the most generous description of it, but it had a very fruity initial taste to it.  Apparently she liked the stuff.  Either that or she considered drinking wine a necessary western social skill that she must acquire in her bid for European citizenship!  She downed a couple of glasses in quick sucession and another couple during the meal.  Needless to say, by the time we had finished, she was a liitle worse for wear, as they say!  In fact as we stood up to leave the restaurant, she swayed and stumbled, motivating both I and the waiter to make a grab for her arms to prevent her from falling over!  

We made our way to the lobby, Hafida supported on one side by me, and by the waiter on the other.  A bellboy took in the situation, and pressed the call button on the lift for us.  When the lift arrived, the four of us squeezed into it, Hafida giggling drunkenly.  In the conservative south of Morocco, she had never been touched by any males other than her father, or brothers.  Here she was now,  hemmed in by men, all of them in close physical contact, and none of them her father or brothers!  I suddenly realised that Hafida's giggling was also probably due to the fact that whilst the waiter's left hand was supporting her by holding her left forearm, his right arm was curled around her waist.  Not only was this outrageously forward, but was his right hand actually under her breast, touching one of those delicious (and forbidden to him!) tits of hers??  And why was the bellboy's face so red?  Could it be that in the close confines of the lift, he was embarrassed because his penis was rubbing against the lady's thigh, and his erection was causing a bulge in his uniform trousers?  

All this was plainly visible in the reflection from the mirror like steel doors!  Whilst I was standing behind Hafida, I could see over her shoulder, witnessing the events unfold as we travelled slowly up the building, in much the same manner as the waiters hand was travelling slowly up and over Hafida's chest!

Now, it is a well known fact that Moroccan men consider westerners to be the scum of the earth, and the women who consort with them to be no better than whores.  The two hotel staff, it seemed had this opinion of us, and so were treating us accordingly!  The lack of respect they felt revealed itself in the gentle abusing of Hafida, whilst I, her husband stood next to her!  I could hardly beleive my eyes.  Surely they must know I would be aware of what was going on?  Or did they think I was as drunk as she was?  Suddenly, pictures of Hafida being sexually used by these two flashed through my mind!  My imagination, always strong, was working overtime!  I could see, in my minds eye, the waiter thrusting into Hafida, using her, satisfying his lust with the body of the westerner's whore!  I could feel my own cock stirring, my heartbeat increase just a fraction as an involuntary reaction to the erotic situation.  An arrow of guilt shot through me, but, its sting was suddenly blunted by the knowledge that I was the victim of Hafida's scam, that my betrayal of her would be no more than rough justice!  

My cock hardened further as I contemplated the situation!  But what to do?  What would happen if I did nothing?  Would they continue?  Where would it all stop?  I looked at my young wife.  Her eyes were darting from the waiters hand, (which was now holding her right breast) to my face.  I smiled at her as though I had seen nothing, as though all were well with the world and nothing untoward was happening.  She in turn shot a glance at the waiter, who simply stared back at her, the stony look on his face seemed to defy her to say or do anything!  The lift's control panel was just beside my right elbow.  Behind the bell boy.  The floor indicator showed us to be two floors short of our destination.  A fit of daring overtook me.  Pretending to scratch my head, I raised my arm, brushing against the <STOP> button.  The lift stopped.

'Oh!' I exclaimed.  'I hope we're not going to be stuck in here for long....'  Hafida stared at me.  So did the bellboy.  I think he had seen what I had done.

'It will not be long Sir....this often happens....a few minutes at most....'  Came the reassuring response from the waiter, his left hand releasing Hafida's arm and dropping down to fondle her left thigh.

She said nothing.  On the shiny door, the picture of his left hand as it curled around her thigh and moved up towards her pussy, sent a hot shiver up my spine.   She squirmed slightly as she felt his fingers through the thin cloth.  They were gently probing, testing her sense of resistance,  putting her drunken sense of morality on trial.  Hafida was found guilty.  She said and did nothing.  She never even tried to move away from his touch.  Her eyes closed.  His hand pushed between her legs, gathering up a handful of the blue cloth as he cupped and squeezed her pubic mound in his palm.  

'Are you alright my dear?'  I asked innocently.  'I think the wine is a little more than she expected...'  This to the waiter who was now slowly massaging Hafida's pussy through the thin material!

'Yes Sir, It often happens when someone is not used to it.'  Did I detect a little sarcasm or accusation in his tone?

'Its just as well you were here to help me with her!  I couldn't have managed her by myself.'  I said, moving my right hand down to her belly, just inches from the waiters.  He quickly shifted his hold, leaving Hafida's pussy free for me to stroke!  The bell boy was aghast!  The waiter eyed me with suspicion.  I grinned at him.  He did not, however, let go of her right breast!  Hafida kept her eyes closed!  If she was aware of what was happening, she showed no sign of it.  I could hear her breathing.  Quick and shallow.  I ran my index finger up along her pussy, pausing at the top to give her clitoris a little rub.  She trembled ever so slightly.  The waiter and I both keyed up by the situation and aware of every tiny sound or motion, exchanged glances.  Again I grinned at him.  I moved my right hand, once again taking her arm.  He immediately put his hand on her pussy, his fingers gently massaging her through the gown.  The lift jerked into life.  Someone higher up had pressed the call button.  We completed the journey to our floor, and when the lift doors opened, the waiter and I manhandled the now fairly limp Hafida down the corridor to our room.  I noticed that the waiter took every opportunity to get a quick feel of her when ever he could.  I just let him get on with it!

'Could you get the key out of my pocket?, I asked the bellboy.  He hesitated but did as I asked.  As he felt for the key, his eyes took in the bulge in my trousers that matched his own!  We almost dragged poor Hafida through the sitting room and into the bedroom.  The waiter passed Hafida's left arm to the bell boy, and to my surprise, took her feet.  We lifted her onto the bed, the waiter staring down Hafida's jalaba between her legs.  One of her sandals fell off.  We all looked at it as it hit the floor.  The atmosphere in the room was electric!  The waiter knew that there was a sexually oriented opportunity for him, but it was obvious he could not see how to exploit it. 

It was now or never.  If I did or said nothing, they would have to leave.  Did I want to push the situation to its (almost) obvious conclusion?  Inspiration hit me.  I fumbled in my pockets as though looking for a tip for them.  I ignored the loose change that both the bellboy and myself knew lay in the bottom of my pocket.

'Just a minute, I must find some money...to reward you for your help....' and with that I hurried into the sitting room, leaving them alone in the bedroom with my prostrate and wife.  I stopped outside the door and peeped back into the room through the gap between the door and the door post.  The waiter had wasted no time.  He had his hand up Hafida's dress, and it looked as though he was finger fucking her.  The bellboy, his right hand in his pocket, was furiously masturbating as he watched his friend take advantage of drunken Hafida.  As I watched, the waiter lifted up her jalaba to show his young colleage Hafida's depilated pussy.  He had moved the crotch of her thong to one side and was sliding his middle finger in and out of her.  It was shiny with her juices.  If she was unaware of what was happening, her body certainly wasn't!  

Hafida moved slightly, her eyes remaining closed.  Was it my imagination, or were her legs were spread just a little wider?  Her head rolled to one side and she opened her eyes.  With a moan she tried to sit up, her right hand feebly trying to push the waiters hand away.  He raised a finger to his lips, and 'shushed' her.  She stared at him.  Her eyes travelled from him to the bellboy, then down to her dishevelled clothing.  She whispered something to the waiter, I did not understand the Arabic, but her tone was urgent.  It didn't need a genius to work out she was telling him to stop.  No scream of indignation, no appeal for help, just a demand that they not be caught! 

'Won't be a minute....' I called out to them. '....can't find my wallet!  Shall I call room service for some coffee? 

The waiter looked around towards the door.  A half smile on his face told me all I needed to know.  I think he had realised I had left them alone intentionally.  

'Thankyou Sir, that would be very nice.' he replied, unzipping his pants and pushing them down to free his wedding tackle!  I couldn't see it, but Hafida could.  She made a small squeaking sound and her eyes opened wide.  Very wide!  The waiter moved onto the bed beside her.  He took her hand and placed it on his cock.  She took hold of it and he lay down beside her, turning on his side so she could masturbate him.  

'OK....' I thought '....if you don't mind, then I don't either!'  As he turned, his cock came into my view.  Now, the only erect penis Hafida had ever seen until now, was mine.  Five inches long and about an inch and a quarter wide, with a slightly thicker head to it.  Nicely proportioned, I've always thought, if not so big.  The waiter, however, had been cast in a different mould!  His was huge!  Nine inches long at least, I would guess, and as thick as a baby's arm!  His knob end was the size of a duck egg, and his balls were the size of a Jaffa orange! No wonder she had stared wide eyed at it!  This guy was equipped like a porno star!

Surprised as she obviously was by this turn of events, Hafida's true colours began to show through.  She stroked the fleshy monster, with no (apparent) thought of fidelity to her new husband, her eyes wide sparkling!  Her face wore an expression of nervous excitement, though not, as yet, devoid of anxiety.  She was still worried about being caught.

'Shall I tell them to bring the coffee in....what shall we say....about an hour?'  I had lowered my voice to a more, shall we say, conspiritorial level!  The waiter grinned at the bellboy.

'That would be very convenient Sir, thank you very much!'  His next words were to Hafida.  Not speaking Arabic, I could not understand him, but she looked over to the doorway, disbelief on her face!

'Shall I bring a towel in?  Or maybe you prefer tissues?' I called again!   The delight in the waiters voice when he replied, was all too obvious to us all!

'Whatever you prefer Sir, if you are joining us, that is....'

'Of course!  Wouldn't want to miss an orgy!'  I walked into the room, grinned at Hafida, dropped my trousers and sat on the end of the bed.   Hafida just stared at me open mouthed!  Too intoxicated to respond quickly to the situation, she just sat there holding the waiters huge cock in her right hand! Her jalaba was hiked up around her waist, her knickers, (one of the thongs bought this morning) were pulled down onto her thighs, and the waiter had his right hand between her legs, his middle finger in her pussy!  

'Well, well Hafida, looks like you've got a couple of new friends!  Hope you're felling horny!'  She went bright red, mumbling incoherently.  

'I think the jalaba should go, don't you?' I asked the waiter.  He waiter spoke to her.  She let go of his cock and lifted her arms above her head, the look of disbelief still etched into her face! 

'You let them do this?' she asked me, when her jalaba cleared her face.

'No dear, you let them.  Looks like you had it all in hand, so to speak!'  Slowly her drink befuddled mind worked out that I had seen her wanking the waiter.  And that she had not objected to him putting his dick in her hand, or to him fingering her pussy!

Sitting there without her jalaba, she looked a picture.  Her dusky skin in sharp contrast to the brilliant whiteness of her lacy bra and her thong.  Her long black hair hung down her back, providing a dark backdrop to her blushing face!  The waiter tugged at her panties, sliding then down her legs and over her feet.  With a grin he tossed them to the bellboy, increasing the boys acute embarrassment, and his erection!

'Your turn son....I think you should have her bra as well as her pants....come on, join the party!'  I said to him.  Hafida grunted something in indignation, but nevertheless, the boy was at her side in a flash, his hands quickly pulling the flimsy straps from her shoulders.  His breathing fast, his face slightly flushed and his hands trembled.  

Hafida's breasts, (34b) small but firm and solid, popped into sight.  No sagging matron this!   A week ago she had been a virgin, her firm young body was in peak condition.  Her brown nipples were hard and pert.  Despite the fact that she was sitting on the bed, her belly still looked flat and hard.   Only a dead man would fail to get excited!  And the three males in the room were all very much alive!   The bellboy, kneeling beside Hafida, leaned over her shoulder and unclipped the bra.  It fell into her lap, the straps still around her arms.  The bellboy slipped it off them and with a sheepish grin, handed it to me.

'Put it with her knickers!'  I told him.  His ears turned red.   Her knickers were in his pocket, and the bra joinedthem in a trice!  Hafida protested loudly, but the waiter snapped a word at her, and she shut up immediately!  This guy was well in control of things!  I stripped off my shirt, and the waiter, taking his cue from me, also shed his clothes.  

Hafida couldn't take her eyes off him.  It was obvious to her now, that she was going to be fucked by at least one of us, whilst the other two watched.  The prospect of having to accomodate the waiter's massive cock was obviously upper most in her thoughts!  She watched his shirt come off, exposing a brown, well muscled body that had a light covering of black hair.  This guy was no stranger to the gym!  Muscles rippled as he bent to strip off his pants.  When he stood up, he was a picture of athleticism.  His penis stood proudly at forty five degrees to his belly.  Long and thick, it seemed to be looking directly into Hafida's staring eyes!  His big hairy balls hung bull like between his legs, large and round.  The promise of a sticky flood emanated from them.  

The bellboy was still fully clothed, standing next to the bed, seemingly in a trance.  I motioned to him to undress.  In a flash he was naked!  His cock, much to my relief, did noy put me to shame!  Thankfully it was about the same as mine, maybe even a little thinner!  

The waiter spoke again, and the bellboy knelt on the bed again, next to my young wife.  She took his cock in her right hand and began to work it up and down the boy's shaft.  He moaned in appreciation of the attention!  The waiter gently pushed Hafida backwards, and began to suckle on her tits.  Now this, I had discovered very early on our wedding night, was Hafida's weak spot, as it were!  Suck on her tits and her pussy flooded!  She was putty in my hands after that!  

His mouth on her nipple and his finger deftly working her pussy, the waiter had reduced Hafida to a sexually charged bag of nerves!  It was obvious she was ready for sex, (pussy juice was trickling down her thigh) but it was equally obvious she was very aprehensive about the situation in general!  

'Too bad', I thought.  'You''ll just have to take what comes, won't you my pretty little shyster!'  The waiter turned to me. 

 'You want....' he left the question hanging in mid air.

'No!  No!  I want to see that big beauty in action!' I laughed!  'You first!'  Hafida looked positively panic stricken as he moved his left knee between her thighs, pushing them apart so he could kneel between them.  He hooked her legs over his elbows and lifted them high, putting his hands next to her shoulders.  

Hafida said one of the few words of Arabic I understand.  'Astafirullah!'  (God forgive me....) and closed her eyes.  The waiter leaned forward a little, bringing the head of his big cock into contact with Hafida's anus.  I winced at the thought of him trying to get that monster in her bum!  However, he just adjusted his position slightly and it nestled between her labia.  It hung there for a second like the sword of Damocles!  Here was Hafida's come uppance for her deception of me!  

He lowered himself an inch or so.  His knob spread her pussy lips apart, coming into contact with her inner labia.  He paused then clenched his buttocks, so forcing the big head into her tight hole.  There was a definate 'OH!' from my wife! 

He pulled back a little, the now slick head of his big cock coming into view for a split second before he pushed it into her.  She grunted as she was stretched wide.  My deflowering of her was almost inconsequential to this!  

A Muslim girl's body is the strict domain of her husband.  Sex outside of marriage can, and often does, mean death in some cultures.  Morocco is one of them.  Hafida now had five inches of a total strangers cock in her.  I reached for the cell phone in my trouser pocket, and quickly took a snap of the two of them coupled together by his big dick.  I had her.  Any argument from her now, and I could blackmail her into compliance.  That moment suddenly seemed to be nerer than I had thought.  Hafida placed her hands on the waiters chest and tried to push him off!  He was having none of that.  He barked two words at her.  She bit her bottom lip and stopped struggling.  Her eyes filled with tears.  None of this impressed our well endowed hero though!  Having got his cock into her, he was determined to fuck her!  He spoke again, this time softly, reassuring, cajoling.  She shifted her hands to her knees.  She was holding her own legs up now, her face red with  the effort of taking this guy's massive penis, and no doubt, with self pity!  

The bellboy and I had a grandstand view.  Hafida's pussy was stretched to the limit, forming a tight 'O' around the waiters thick shaft.
We stood watching the pair on the bed.  We both had our cocks in our hands, masturbating as we watched him arch his back slightly and clench his buttocks again.  Hafida noisily sucked in a lungful of air as he pushed his big dick right on into her.  All nine inches or more of it.  Until his balls were resting on her backside.   It must have felt as though he'd got his arm in her!

Slowly, he started to withdraw.  Almost all the way out, until we could see the rim of his knob.  His shaft was shiny with her juice.  He pushed back in, all the way in one stroke, and then began to fuck her.  Only slowly at first but with ever increasing speed until he was pumping furiously.  Then suddenly he stopped.  He slowly withdrew, the big head slipping out of her now gaping hole.  He quickly re positioned it, then eased himself back into her, resuming his enjoyment of her with long, steady, slow strokes.  Hafida's ooooh's and aaaah's (a sure sign an orgasm is building in her!) kept time with the waiters thrusting buttocks, and after a minute or so, she was continually moaning loudly, her orgasm fast approaching.  The waiter thrust his big cock all the way home, threw back his head and with a growl shot his load, deep into her.  Hafida wailed out in a mixture of orgasm and horror!  This guy had not only had sex with her, bringing her to orgasm, but had inseminated her as well!  A double wammy!

Rolling off her, the waiter grinned rather sheepishly at me, and spoke to the bellboy.  The lad's response was to shuck off his clothes and leap onto Hafida!  He missed the mark a couple of times, ignoring her wailing, and then he was in her!  In one thrust he slammed into her, and started pumping furiously.  To my surprise she almost immediately statrted 'ooh' ing and 'aah' ing!  The orgasm brought on by the waiters huge tool pumping her, was being revitalised by the bellboys furious fucking!  Hafida, it seemed, was one of those lucky females who had the ability to enjoy 'multiple orgasms'!  Continous orgasmic pleasure for minutes at a time, for as long as someone was fucking her!  Sure enough as the boy was screwing his eyes up, and squirting his baby gravy up her, Hafida was squeezing him with her thighs as she too hit the top!  

What a fabulous session!  My cock was straining for action, so I dived in as soon as the bellboy moved out.  What a mess!  She was dripping goo as I squelched enthusiastically into her sopping hole.  How it had changed!  Gone was the tight girly pussy, replaced by a softer, wider, womans cunt!  The waiter's giant cock had transformed her hole forever.  I pumped for a minute, my cock seeming to hardly touch the sides of her pussy, then added to the mess!  

Whilst the bellboy and I had been busy with Hafida, the waiter had also been busy.  He had seen my digital camera on the dressing table, and had snapped a few of the scenes that Hafida and whichever one of us was busy with her, had presented!  He handed me the camera, and without so much as a 'by your leave' to Hafida, rolled her over onro her stomache and, grabbing her hips, heaved her up onto her knees, in the 'doggy style'.  He then slipped his still hard cock between her dripping labia, and turned to face the camera with a big smile on his face!  Hard to resist!  I clicked happily away as he hauled my sobbing wife into various positions so he could be seen as the star in her debauching!  

After a few minutes of this, he sat up, and spoke to Hafida.  Instead of her usual compliance, all he got was a mystified stare.  He looked over at me.

'You no show her how to suck?'  he queried.  I shook my head.

'Hell, we've only been married a couple of weeks!  Hadn't got round to it yet!'  His face lit up in understanding.

'So not fuck long?  She ver' tight!  Nice, like virgin!'  

'She was....until you shoved that huge thing into her!' I retorted.

'No worry!  Only young!  She tight again in morning!  I show her how to suck, yes?'  He asked with a more than hopeful expression on his face.

'Go ahead!  I'll take the pics!'  He spoke gently to her.  Her frown and snorted reply didn't hold much promice of 'oral' pics, but his voice dropped a little, slightly authoritarian, threatening maybe?  She tentatively took his penis in her right hand and dipped her head. the pink tip of her tongue appeared and she gingerly touched it against the big head of his cock.  She looked over at me.

'You bad man.  Make me bad girl.  You go Hell.  Me too.'  I'd made her a bad girl?  Funny, looked to me like she'd jumped on the path to hell with both feet, no assistance from me needed!

'You can always go back home to your family....' I said quietly. '....you don't have to come to Europe with me....'  She scowled at me.  I'll send you a copy of the pictures....as a souvenir!'  This was make or break time.  How would she react to my threats?  She stared at me for a second or two, a little time being needed for the implications of what I's just said, to sink in.  Then her shoulders dropped a fraction, signalling acceptance of defeat and her head dropped to the waiters fleshy monster.  I'd won!  She given in! 
  
The waiter held her head in between his hands and gave her instructions in a soft voice.  She opened her mouth, and enveloped the waiter's knob.  He bit his bottom lip as she closed her lips closed around it.  She looked up into his eyes, and began to move her head.  The bell boy and I both moved nearer the bed!  Hopefully we too would help in her instruction!  I clicked away with the camera, and, for the first time, Hafida looked towards me with something other than tear filled eyes.  I squinted at the little screen, framing my shot.  To my absolute astonishment, Hafida opened her mouth, looked directly into the camera lens, and very slowly ran her tongue over the purple head of the waiters monster cock!  She was posing!  The waiter groaned and a wad of semen shot from his cock, falling on her face, landing alongside her nose and her across her lips.  With hesitation she ran her tongue along her top lip, trying the taste of semen for the first time!   She glanced up at him, and a shadow of a smile flickered across her face.  

'Is all men want?  To make woman sticky?'  She had the idea!  And summed it up neatly too!  The youngest amongst us was also keen to make a woman sticky.  His cock stood rigidly to attention, his face pink with excitement.  The waiter issued another order, and Hafida bent to her task again!  This guy had magic in his voice!  She obeyed his every word!  This time with no hesitaton she took the young bellboy in her mouth and began to give him his first, and her second, blow job!  The waiter spoke urgently to her, and a second or so later, the bellboy's body shook, and Hafida coughed and gagged as she followed the waiters instructions to swallow the semen being shot into her mouth.  Lifting her head, she looked at me and said,

'Your friends enjoy your wife, yes?  You no sorry they do all this with her?'  Her tone was half accusatory, half questioning.

'No my dear!  In fact it's quite a turn on to see you performing!  Especially as you're so good at it!'  Her eyes lingered on mine.  She was trying to work out if I was being cruel, or just telling the truth!  

The next morning saw our return to the UK.  It was a very quiet flight for me.  My lovely new young wife just sat next to me, never saying a word!  Was she remembering the events of the previous evening, or was she contemplating the future?  I didn't ask.  

Part Two, 'Hafida's Night Out' Follows soon!!