Ay: Eylül 2023

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

As the rising sun casted a rosy hue across the morning sky, Priya woke up after the delightful sex she had last night, courtesy of her sisters father-in-law. Golden rays of sun passed through the bambooed security post and glistened on her body. It was as if even the Hindu Sun God Aditya or Surya it is called wants to worship the flawless body that Priya had. Through the sunshine a silhouette emerged. Priya thought it was manish, but the stature was small. As her eyes got used to the sunshine, it was evident that the silhouette belonged to the servant, who had given her milk last night.

Hundreds of years of evolution kicked into action. Priya covered her breasts as a reflex action with her hands. She looked around for her dress but it was no where to be found. In all this perplexity, the servant squatted down and was admiring her naked body.

“What are you doing here?”

Priya shouted on the top of her lungs as she was used to in her earlier police job in America.

This startled, the servant who now looked as a deer in the headlights. Priya felt sorry for the servant.

“Can you atleast tell me where are my clothes?”

“They are drying in the sun.”

Priya looked down, She saw her clothes washed and left out to dry in the sun. Priya assumed it must be the servant who should have washed her clothes.

“Why did you washed my clothes and how can I go back to house?”

“Manish ji, sent me to give you breakfast. I saw you were sleeping and clothes were dirty. So, I washed them. Moreover, Manish Ji has sent you some clothes.”

Servant showed the clothes that Manish has sent. It was beautiful red saree with chiffon blouse with petticoat. But the thing is Priya doesn’t know how to wear a saree.

“What’s your name?”

“Pandu.”

“How long are you working here? I haven’t seen you here last time.”

“For the last 2 years only. After my parents died, Manish ji took me under him as a footman.”

“Fine!” sighed Priya, “Lets gets down.”

Priya felt comfortable being naked around Pandu. After all he is a mere servant Çanakkale Escort and also 5-6 years younger than her. She dropped her hands that covered her breasts and moved towards the stairs. Pandu led the way first.

Priya bubble butt was giggling as she down traced her steps to the ground. Pandu was all too much excited to see the ass checks waggling its way down.

Once solid ground was reached, Pandu announced that her Breakfast is in the pump hut and she could have it while he waits. But Priya had other ideas. She wants to bath, so she ordered pandu to switch on the pumps that water the field and went straight into the small tank that serve as a water cushion.

Reluctantly Pandu switched on the borewells, that suck water from thousands of feet underground. Priya was already in knee deep water and when water started flowing, it rejuvenated her whole body. She felt even thousands of dollars and American life style can give this pleasure and happiness.

Pandu stood under the shade of the tress that covered the pump house and watched Priya in amusement. Priya’s perfect breasts were moving in a smooth curved shape from left to right as she was splashing the water. Sun’s rays falling on droplets on her nipples dispersed to form rainbow on her dark brown areola.

Priya had forgotten about the world. She was in her own bubble of thoughts. She felt as she was reborn again. She determined to leave all the negative things that happened in America and decided to start a fresh life. If all goes well, she may even settle in this village. Her thoughts were disrupted by the sudden stoppage of the water. Priya looked at Pandu and he replied, “Electricity must have gone out madam.”

Disappointed that her bath was cut short, Priya climbed out of the tank and walked straight to Pandu. Much to his bemusement she enquired, “Do you have any towel to dry me off?”

“No mam. But in this heat, it will dry of quickly, if you stand in the sun.”

Priya doesn’t want to stand in sun. She wrapped the petticoat around her hips Çanakkale Escort Bayan and wore the blouse to her breasts. Since Manish has not sent any inner ware, she has to go commando. Since she doesn’t know how to wrap a saree, she used it as a towel to cover the reminder of the body.

“Do you know how to wrap a saree Pandu?”

“Yes mam. I do know. I wrap them for my sister,” Mumbled Pandu, who was setback the end of the naked show.

Priya thought for a moment, deliberating whether to ask the servant to wrap the saree or not. Finally, she decided that since the sun is already out, wearing too much clothes will only make her sweat lot.

“Come on Pandu, Lets go home. Manish will be waiting.”

“But mam what about the breakfast and dress. You certainly can’t come into the village in this stage.”

“Why cant I? I have covered everything that’s needs to be covered. Now either you lead the way or I will find it out by myself.”

Pandu reluctantly went inside the hut to switch of the pumps, then he took Priya’s sweater and pants that he had laid out to dry.

“Please follow me mam.”

Both Pandu and Priya started walking on the ridges on the farm land. Since the plants are at full height and ready for harvesting, no one could see them coming. After a brisk walk of 10 minutes, they came in to an open field., which lead on to the old-fashioned house.

Pandu took the route around the house to enter it from the back gate as servants are not allowed from main gate, while Priya went straight into the house expecting a vacant one, but to her surprise, it was full with a horde of elderly gentlemen with Manish in the middle.

Priya was rather shocked, but managed to get out of it and welcomed all with a traditional Namaste which involved folding palms of hand and bowing, thereby giving a full view of her cleavage to the men in the room.

Manish introduced Priya to all. “This is my daughter-in-law’s sister. She will be with us for time being.”

Priya smiled as Manish continued, “These are the Escort Çanakkale elders of the village. They have come to decide on the means and ways to celebrate the Harvest festival.”

“Ok ji. I will wait in my room.”

Priya was thrilled to show her ample breasts in front of those elderly. Each village is governed by a set of elderly, who usual are big shots having fucked a lot of ladies in their prime time. She removed her blouse which was itching on her soft tissues and wore a laced bra. A red panty matched the petticoat.

Priya went into a deep slumber due to the effects of blissful bath.

An hour would have been passed, when she woke up with an urge to pee. It was Manish under her petticoat, licking her pussy lips. As he started to lick the lip of the right side of the vagina, Priya fell into pure ecstasy. She started to whimper, cry, and almost lose consciousness from the intensity of the pleasure.

“Ah.. Ah.. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Priya screamed and withered as ass. Jets of liquid love poured out her labia and showered on to the Manish face.

“You are naughty boy, Manish Ji. Cant you wait for the night?”

“Today might be the last night we can enjoy.”

“why so?”

“The festival committee has almost decided you to be our harvest goddess this year.”

“What is that? Does it mean, I get to wear beautiful sarees and golden ornaments and sit in an iron throne?”

“Yes, that’s correct, except there will be no sarees. Indeed, there will be no dress. You will be naked for the entire ceremony.”

“How long will it take?”

“It will be festival of 14 days.”

“14 Days? Do you expect me to be naked for 14 full days in this house?”

“Not in this house. You will stay in the village common hall.”

“Ridiculous. What if I say NO?”

“Yes. You can say no. In fact, in the recent years, there is not a single unmarried woman in this village to do the ceremony and rains have failed. Half of the village had gone barren. Even our fields are cultivated with ground water and not surface water. If you do this, this village will be indebited to you forever and moreover, you will be treated like goddess”

What else can she say? 14 days of nakedness in the middle of the village, Priya couldnt have asked for anything better.

Looking forward she decided to a take stroll into the village wearing nothing.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

As I came to my senses, I could feel warm rays of morning sunshine shining on my eyelids. I was comfily tucked beneath a down blanket on a memory foam mattress that felt like it was eating me. I could faintly hear an episode of 30 Rock quietly playing on the TV. I turned towards my left side where the window had rudely allowed the sun’s rays to wake me from slumber. Squinting my eyes open I realized that the blinds were in fact down, but they weren’t my blackout blinds that let me sleep late into the day.

Suddenly the events from the night before started to come flooding back to my memory one by one. I had moved in with Fred. He prepared a massive welcoming feast for me consisting of all my favorite foods. Most importantly, I finally got to behold his massive hog after all these years. All the nights I had jerked off to my mind’s image of it hadn’t prepared me for what he was packing. It was bigger than anything my meager imagination could ever whip up. His glorious member put even the juiciest of kielbasa to shame. Just reminding myself of it was starting to cause my own nether region to flow with blood.

Turning to my right, I was now gazing at Fred slightly propped up in bed with a tea in his hands. He was intently watching the tv, but almost as if sensing my gaze upon him he turned his head to return it. “Good morning sleepy head. I was wondering how long you’d be in a food coma for.”

I brought my hands up to my face and attempted to rub the sleep from my eyes. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I yawned loudly and shook the last few cobwebs out of my brain. I had never been a morning person, always instead choosing to sleep in late on my off days. However I was more groggy this morning than I had been since my college year’s morning hangovers. I guess when engorging yourself on large (borderline excessive) amounts of food your body just naturally wants to go into hibernation mode. “What time is it?” I mumbled while reclining backwards onto the pillows and lazily affixing my attention to the sitcom that was playing.

“It’s almost noon. We ended up falling asleep shortly after midnight. You’ve been out of it for a while. Not that it really matters, animals spend most of their days sleeping anyways. Luckily I didn’t make you a big breakfast because I figured you’d be out of commission.”

He reached his hand over towards my chest and gently caressed my mildly flabby pec. Looking down, I saw the inception of slight man boobs growing on my previously muscular pectorals. I was still a ways off from having them back in full force, but I could feel the beginnings of them developing their own gravitational pull. Pulling the blanket down further to inspect my tummy, I ran my hands over the small dense knoll that our feeding session we had created. I massaged my bloated belly to try and relieve some of the pressure that was making my skin taut. Suddenly I felt a movement within my bowels and I let out a long, rumbling fart that was only slightly muffled by the bed.

I was simultaneously embarrassed at my excessive flatulence and relieved that some of the pressure I had been enduring was dissipated. I glanced over at Fred out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction to my disgusting behavior. He was smirking as he turned and got up out of bed to clear the room before the noxious gas could hit his nostrils. “Seems like my little piggy has cleared up some room for lunch. Feel free to use my restroom and try to free up some more space. I’ll call you down when it’s ready.”

He exited the room and turned the corner to quickly saunter down the steps. I relaxed back into my slouched position and closed my eyes, enjoying the extremely comfortable bed. I didn’t feel the porcelain throne calling my name just yet so I decided to relax in bed and rest my eyes a bit longer.

As my mind drifted boundlessly, I found myself pondering a myriad of questions related to the journey I was now embarked on. Is this truly what I want for my future? A rekindled relationship with the man I had been longing for for years had me abruptly moved across the country. Now I was living with him in the middle of the vast Vermont forest with no neighbors for miles. Maybe fantasies aren’t meant to be acted upon, but merely left in our heads to titillate us in our alone times. The constant state of arousal I had been in since arriving contradicts this theory though. Deep down I wanted to go along with Fred’s plans, whatever they may be. And my body knew this. I wanted to live out these carnal pleasures that until now had just been perverted fetishes to jack off to.

In the heat of the moment Fred has started to display a more domineering side of himself. I had never known him to be controlling growing up with him. It’s possible that in the years since talking to him last he had changed for the worse and was no longer the good natured person I remembered. If I were to be honest with myself though, I don’t think his moral compass has shifted. I firmly believe everything he has planned for me is purely for my own pleasure and to satiate my lustful desires. At the end of the day, life Çanakkale Escort is about the journey not the destination. Even if I could see what the future holds, I would rather be blissfully unaware of what’s in store for me and simply enjoy the ride. Every day will bring new surprises and experiences, and I am open to all the changes yet to come.

The smell of fried bacon had snapped me from my inner monologue. Lifting the bed sheets off of me I slowly stood up and walked to the attached bathroom. When I went to remove my underwear I realized that I was still naked. I turned and sat on the toilet and quickly emptied my bowels of all the food waste from the day prior. It was weird to think that I would never need to wear clothes again. I hadn’t fancied myself to be an exhibitionist and it still felt odd to feel the draft of the A/C above the toilet blowing on my bare skin, giving me goosebumps. As with a lot of things in the past couple of weeks though I was open to the idea. Before long I would probably forget I was even naked to begin with. After wiping, I flushed and washed my hands then followed the scent of the delicious brunch Fred cooked for me.

As I walked into the dining room I beheld another feast that could feed a small family laid out on the table. A generous helping of crispy bacon, nutella and peanut butter crepes, some cinnamon rolls, and a small stack of pancakes drizzled in chocolate and maple syrup. Doing some rough calculations in my head I figured the meal to be at least twenty five hundred calories. “This looks and smells amazing Fred… but I don’t know if I can finish it all in one sitting. I’m still stuffed to the brim from yesterday.”

Holding out his hand to me I saw a pill that I assumed to be an appetite stimulant. I grabbed it and quickly swallowed it dry. “Stuffed will be your new normal from now on, in more ways than one. With a little help from that pill I think you’ll scarf down this meal in no time.”

He reached down to caress my ass and prodded my anus with his finger to help get his nerdy double entendre across. With a fresh wave of lust surging through me I eagerly sat down and started greedily devouring the assortment in front of me. In my fervor I quickly became erect, and Fred took notice. He pulled up a chair next to me, reached under the table and firmly wrapped his hand around my dick. I moaned through a mouthful of food as the euphoric sensation of eating the deliciously fattening meal combined with Fred slowly stroking my cock brought me to new heights of stimulation.

As I ate he would stroke me until I was close to cumming, then slow down so as to just keep me perched on the edge. Nearing the end of the spread all I had left was the pancakes. I pulled the plate in front me and decided to give Fred a display of my true inner glutton. Foregoing utensils, I grabbed the three stack of pancakes with both of my hands and began to feverishly gorge them down. I could feel the mix of syrups dripping down my hands and oozing out of my mouth as I gave into my animalistic desires.

My sudden voracity had clearly pleased Fred as he climbed under the table to reward me with a blowjob. I stuffed my face with the buttery sweet deliciousness, abandoning manners and any sense of dignity. He began to expertly work his tongue around the head of my cock and I let out a guttural sound of pleasure muffled by my mouthful of food. This forbidden combination of stimuli made me wish I could stay in this fleeting moment forever. I made quick work of the pancakes, impassioned by the raw eroticism of the moment.

With the last of bites of my breakfast being chewed in my mouth I leaned back in the chair as Fred brought me to a climactic orgasm. It felt as if I was ascending into heaven, my body’s faculties overloading in ecstacy before I came crashing back down to Earth. Fred climbed out from under the table and stood up next to me before leaning over to give me a fervent French kiss. As our tongues mingled I felt my ejaculate pouring into my mouth. He pulled back and wiped his mouth as I dazedly swallowed my own salty sperm. There was a fire burning behind his eyes, the intensity that I had just displayed clearly impressing him.

After walking to the sink he cleaned himself off with a paper towel and ambled back to his chair to survey me. “That was a truly amazing performance. Look at you, your face covered in chocolate syrup and grease. You just let your inner animal take over and proved to me this is what you were meant to be. You were made to be a porker. You’ve been trapped inside a man’s body this whole time and I’m finally here to free you.”

Awash in post orgasmic bliss I was at a loss for words. He was right. My true nature had taken over and it was the most freeing feeling in the world. This was my destiny, to become an obese swine who endlessly chases the carnal pleasures of eating and sex. Having realized my newfound purpose I eagerly wanted to take the next steps. Any apprehension that I had earlier was gone, replaced by my need to get fatter. I wanted to feel my flabby body shake with every Çanakkale Escort Bayan subtle movement. Pounds of beautiful cellulite piling onto my once toned physique until I was just an unrecognizable blob of lard. “I can’t wait to be so fat, Fred. Nothing I have experienced in life up to this point compares to the sublime blending of sensations I just experienced. I want to live in that moment forever. Eating and fucking all day everyday, just floating in an endless sea of gluttonous intoxication.”

Looking at me, the expression on his face could only be described as smug. “I have some weight gain shakes in the fridge that could serve as a nice dessert to satiate your piggish appetite.”

I eagerly nodded my head yes. As he walked to retrieve the drink I sat up a little straighter and looked down at my bloated stomach. Despite my body looking stuffed to capacity, the appetite stimulant was working wonders as I felt like I could do it all again. Streaks of chocolate ran down my hairy chest. I absentmindedly rubbed my tight tummy before realizing I was spreading the mixture of grease, butter and syrup on my hands all over it.

Fred returned and laughed as he saw the mess I had made of myself. He handed me a large shaker bottle and I began to graciously chug it. “Once you finish that shake we’re gonna you’re going to take your last shower for a while. Afterwards I am going to use an electrolysis machine I purchased last week to remove all the hair on your body. I think you’d look pretty cute as a baldy.”

I had never been bald before nor had I manscaped much outside of trimming my pubic hair occasionally. The excitement of taking the first permanent steps towards my transformation was turning me on again. I quickly finished off the shake and gave a loud belch before handing the empty bottle back to him.

“Go upstairs and enjoy a nice hot shower while I clean up this mess you’ve made and get prepared for the procedure.”

He smiled warmly at me before getting up and gathering all the plates from the table. I stood, feeling stiff from the unreasonable amount of food I just ate, and started laboriously trudging up the stairs.

After I had finished in the shower, I used a towel to aggressively dry myself off. I knew little about the process of electrolysis, but I knew water and electricity were never a good combination. Once downstairs I saw that Fred had a plastic couch cover over the futon. I sat down on the now slightly uncomfortable seat and shortly after he arrived with a bottle of Jameson in one hand and what looked like a taser in the other. “You’re gonna wanna down as much of this as possible. This is gonna hurt a little bit and you have a ton of hair on that body of yours.”

He handed me the bottle. I quickly unscrewed the cap and took as many chugs as I could until my insides felt like they were on fire. “Uuuuugh…” I exclaimed while shaking my head to try and get the disgusting taste out of my mouth.

Looking at the bottle I noted that I had downed almost half of it. The effects of the copious amount of alcohol I had just consumed had already started to hit me. I put the bottle on the floor and laid down. “Ready when you are capt’n” I slurred.

Closing my eyes I could feel the room slowly starting to spin around me. Fred forcefully rubbed my chest with a towel before I heard the bzzz of the device being turned on. The machine felt as if it was stabbing me with a thousand small needles at once and I was immediately greeted with the mild scent of burning hair. I imagined the pain might be more severe had I not just downed almost a dozen shots worth of whiskey.

At some point during the painful process I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up the first thing I noticed was my sweaty naked back being stuck to the plastic lining beneath me. Sitting up I looked around me to see that I was alone and it was now dusk. I tried to look down at my body but the lights in the room were shut off. I wandered around the first floor of the house looking for my new roommate. After failing to find him, I resorted to climbing the stairs to continue my search. Upon reaching the landing I heard the sound of the TV in his bedroom. He must have heard me plodding up the steps as he hollered at me from his bedroom: “C’mere Mikey, let me admire my handiwork.”

Stepping into the room I could see his outline lying under the covers, the television illuminating his face in the dark room. He reached over to turn on his bedside lamp then peered at me through tired eyes. “Not too shabby if I say so myself. I might even be enticed to say you look hotter than ever. It took a lot longer than I had initially expected. However it was well worth the effort because now you’ll never have to shave again. Go ahead into the bathroom so you can see for yourself.”

Once in the bathroom I was staring in the mirror at something that looked vaguely alien to me. The most shocking and instantly noticeable part was my head. I had always kept a fairly short-cropped hairstyle, but now all I saw was a shiny bald scalp. I still had my eyebrows thankfully Escort Çanakkale so I didn’t look entirely inhuman yet. Scanning downwards on my body there was not a hair to be seen. I lifted up my arm to inspect my armpit and sure enough all that there was to behold was my reddened blotchy skin. I had bright red and pink splotches all over my body from my dermis being electrocuted for hours on end. Looking down I saw not a trace of pubic hair. Even my leg and foot hair had been eviscerated. I ran my hands up and down my now eerily smooth body admiring how silky it felt.

Adjusting myself to look back at the mirror in front of me I could also see the effects that my new diet was having on my body more clearly. With the hair on my chest and stomach removed I could see the small fat folds on my stomach and my mini man boobs seemed more pronounced. I was startled out of my self inspection when I noticed Fred leaning against the doorframe. “Five long hours of work paid off. You’re beginning to look the part already. And none of that hair will ever grow back. I have to admit you impressed me with how deep of a slumber you were in. I had to turn you over myself to do your back half and you still snored like a bear.”

He stepped behind me and tightly grabbed my ass, a cheek in each hand. “I even shaved off the hair in your crack” he whispered lustily in my ear.

He kneaded my ass like he was preparing dough for bread, enjoying the softness that had accumulated there. I felt his thumb begin to prod me and I stifled a wail. “It’s time to begin stretching out this tight little asshole of yours piggy. I know you and I are both looking forward to when I can finally give you that ride you’ve long been craving.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist allowing his fingers to sink into my love handles and guided me back into the bedroom. “Lay down and make yourself comfortable” he told me before opening one of the drawers in his nightstand.

He pulled out several dildos of varying colors and sizes before reaching back in and retrieving a buttplug. Although this wasn’t just an ordinary buttplug. This one had a spiraling pigtail sticking out the end of it. Finally he found some lube before shutting the drawer. “Depending how far you push yourself with these dildos, you might be ready for my monster in no time at all. And seeing how quickly you’ve applied yourself to my new diet regimen for you it’s safe to say my hopes are high. Anytime you’re not using the restroom I want this plug in to keep you nice and loose.” He held up the pig-tailed sex toy in his hand and gave me a goofy grin. “Quite fitting isn’t it?”

Next he grabbed the smallest of the three dildos and examined it. “I have five, seven, and nine inch dildos for you to progress through. They also increase in girth. Of course my cock is nearly eleven inches, but I still wanted to get some of the asshole stretching in myself.”

He crawled onto the bed and pulled my legs apart to spread them out. Squirting the lube into his hand, he leaned in to slowly begin to massage the cold liquid onto my puckered anus. He then unceremoniously inserted his index finger into me and curled it upwards towards my prostate. It was as if he had pressed a secret button inside me that I had never known existed. My dick quickly hardened as a swell of euphoric pleasure enraptured me, the anticipation of my first anal experience coming to fruition. I closed my eyes and forced my head back into the pillows as I felt him add a second finger. He began to move his fingers in and out, always curling upwards at the end to give me an endless influx of ecstacy.

At first my orifice had gripped his fingers tightly, but over time I had started to loosen up and give in to his willful fingering. Once he realized I had relaxed enough he removed his digits and started lubing up the smallest of the dildos. Coming back to reality momentarily I inclined my head forward to get a look at the rubber phallus that would soon take my anal virginity. It was bright pink and semi transparent. It was not even half the size of Fred’s schlong, but it still mildly intimidated me. If popping a female’s cherry had taught me anything though, I knew once I adjusted to the newfound intrusion I would be on cloud nine.

Satisfied with his lube job he placed the head of the dildo onto my awaiting bottom. He pushed gradually into me, but at first my anus not giving way. I leaned back again, relaxing my abdominal muscles as much as I could. Suddenly I felt the artificial penis enter into me. Fred eagerly began pushing it further as my breath caught in my throat. My voice finally came back to me and I whispered out a quiet “oh fuck” in response to the indescribable feeling of fullness that overtook me.

He continued to advance the dildo further as I felt my own dick pulsating. Once it was entirely inserted he let it sit there for a minute as I panted and muttered obscenities under my breath. The sensuality of being imbued by a foreign object in my ass, a feeling of fullness that I had only experienced within my stomach previously. I was on the edge of cumming, a tidal wave of bliss engulfing my entire body. I had never felt such pleasure from any sexual endeavors previously, especially without even touching my cock. Fred sensed how close I was and began pumping the dildo to and fro. Quite quickly I ejaculated, squirting semen all over my now clean shaven torso.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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A few years ago I visited Marseille in the south of France, which I consider a far more interesting holiday destination than the seal-colony Mediterranean beach resorts. My hotel was a small and friendly one, just a few yards from the Vieux Port, which due to advances in sewage technology has no trace of the smell on which Dickens comments. There are fortifications at the mouth of the port which surely had a lot to do with the British navy, and I looked long and covetously at a large, pre-war British-built sailing yacht in the port.

I took two boat-trips, one along the coast past the spectacular limestone ravines, or calanques, of which more later. The other was to the Chateau d’If, the island castle which was the prison of Alexandre Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo. You can still see the hole dug from one cell, or possible cell, to another, although that is known to have been done after the publication of the book. Still, a little tourist fakery doesn’t detract from a largely untouched Renaissance fortress, or the marvellous light of the Midi which has inspired so many artists. The island, following a shipwreck, was also used to confine a rhinoceros which was being sent by King Manoel I of Portugal to the Pope, perhaps because there were no white elephants to be had.

The chambermaids in my hotel were Algerian or Tunisian, and I got on the right side of them by understanding something only mildly scandalous they said about me in Arabic, and replying in the same language. They used to disappear in early afternoon, so finally I invited Samira to lunch, which turned into a delicious and inexpensive Marseilles bouillabaisse or fish stew, just a few yards down the Port. I derived some satisfaction out of eating the vive, or Greater Weever, which has fatally venomous spines, as long as someone else handled the difficult end of the business.

Samira was a very tall, slim Algerian, more Arab than Berber to look at, and I was surprised to find, as with many British Indians, just how westernised she was. She spoke almost no English, but excellent French, with an accent like Mademoiselle from Armentières — whom my great-grandfather, old Andrew the general, knew well, by the way — and her smile cast light into shadowy corners. She was outraged, as any decent person naturally would be, at the idea that the government might ban the Islamic headscarf in schools and public buildings. But she giggled and shook her head when I asked if she would ever wear it herself. Not, it would seem, in France.

Even more surprisingly, she turned out to be a keen rock-climber, which is a major sport on the coast around Marseilles. A long time ago, the month I week I first used the internet, I got a mysterious message out of the blue, from a Russian lady. She was tall, beautiful, sensual, an excellent cook, possessed of all the family virtues, and just about to finish her PhD in thermodynamics. Oh, and she was very truthful too, for she told me so. I’m afraid I wrote back that the hardest concept for the amateur to grasp, in thermodynamics, is the bulk modulus of elasticity. I never got a reply, but it stands to reason that a woman like that is very much in demand.

I may have matured since then, and would never actually ask that nowadays. But Samira undoubtedly knew konak escort a lot about pitons and chockstones.

She took the rules of her job very seriously, more from principle than from fear, I think, and there could clearly be no question of hanky-panky in the hotel. But in the evening she took me with a band of her French friends, to a dinner in an appalling hot and noisy night-club on the outskirts of the city. I think the choice of place was her friends’, and we spent quite a bit of time talking and holding hands in the cool night air outside. She told me she was a sincere Muslim in her fashion, but when I explained Presbyterianism, agreed that it eliminated most of the things Muslims find objectionable in Christianity. I think my being Dunbar of Arabia’s great-grandson raised my stock a little in her eyes, but I’m used to that, and she was no scalp-hunter. It was no surprise when she redirected our taxi to the flat she shared with some other North African girls, just off the Canebière within a short walk of my hotel.

The room and bed were tiny but scrupulously clean, and took me back in imagination to a railway sleeper compartment of long ago. She actually had a new bottle of whisky to offer me, which I took both as a touching gesture to a Scot, since she didn’t drink it herself, and as evidence that I was intended to be there. I had seen Samira drink wine, with an ability to pace herself which is not always present in male Arabs, but the legend that whisky possesses a potency far exceeding cognac’s, has not quite died out in southern latitudes. I would have to tell her sometime, I realised, that her pronunciation of my name, Colin, had more to do with an Irish country maiden. But that wasn’t the time.

There was just a touch of shyness as her dress slipped from those beautiful shoulders, as close to white as mine but further from pink, and the only trace of her background was when she held her folded bra in front of her lower face for an instant, instead of those small, firm breasts. I have it on hearsay that North African women shave or depilate the body, but if that is so, Samira had gone native in most satisfactory style.

I had to touch her with my fingers for several minutes, before she was ready to be entered. Was that a matter of limited experience? How would I know that? I am only a man. She experienced brief discomfort, but motioned for me not to stop, and then lay back smiling gently for so long that I wondered if she was what used to be called pre-orgasmic. But then her breathing deepened and she held me tighter, her body moving in a rhythm which quickened and intensified mine. She never became vocal, but I saw a deep flush growing in her skin, as surely as I could in the palest European. When the explosion came for both of us, she was gleaming with sweat, and for several minutes she lay so still that only her smile convinced me that she had not fainted.

It was a night of little sleep, for she came back to me time after time, and I responded better than I would ever have thought possible. In the morning she brought me good bacon most tragically charred, with a triumphant smile which only a harder man than I would have dared dispel, although I would rather have stuck to the buttered güzelbahçe escort croissants she had herself. There was nothing wrong with the orange juice and coffee, though, served French breakfast-style, weak and milky in large stainless steel bowls. The other North African girls were giggly but friendly, and I thought an overnight guest was exceptional and yet not unheard-of among them.

Afterwards Samira announced that she would take me to one of the calanques, along the coast to the west. If you do the same, bear in mind that they may be closed, due to the fire hazard, in the driest months. We travelled by bus to the stop for the Calanque de Sugiton, which you will easily find on the map. From there it was a longish walk on an increasingly rough path down into the calanque. But our way diverged to the left around the time we saw the little beach at the bottom of the Calanque de Sugiton. I have never been afraid of heights, and climbing was about the only vaguely athletic thing I was good at in my youth. But on that precipitous path round the shoulder of the hill, descending behind the narrow rocky island known as Le Torpilleur, or torpedo-boat, I wondered if Samira should really have taken those things for granted. She, for her part, leapt along that path like a chamois, and I think I did quite well to keep up.

Some even more difficult climbing, but safe climbing at sea-level with the bottom visible a couple of feet down, brought us to a curved beach under a cliff. It was only once on the beach that I saw Samira’s quizzical smile, and noticed some details of the people on the beach, of whom I had only vaguely been aware. She had brought me to the local nudist beach!

We spent some time there, and I now know for a fact that Algerians can get a sun-tan, for I saw the join. Perhaps because it was a secluded and unofficial beach, there was none of the puritanical attitude that pervades British nudism… or so I have heard. Or maybe it was just French. I saw several couples embracing with some enthusiasm, including ourselves, and one gay couple in the surf whose excitement could hardly be hidden. Soon, though, the northern European skin, especially the bits of it usually hidden, could stand no more of the sun, and the Mediterranean is too cold, in June, to spend long in the water. So we retreated to a curious spot behind the beach.

There was a small overhang along most of the cliff, and in places it was cut off by great blocks of limestone which had fallen from the cliff above. We had already seen couples making for these secluded corners, and it suited our purpose well at the time. If you go there, though, you should take mosquito coils or a citronella candle, for a species of tiny black midge bit me infuriatingly, although it seemed satisfactorily deterred by the North African skin. Ah well, we are meant to rise above such minor misfortunes.

As I lay back after our exertions, a stark naked, extremely black African girl bounded over the rock, and landed heavily on my stomach, as her partner came around the corner. For a moment apologies bounced off embarrassed apologies, although in hindsight it seems churlish to object. The feel of those peppercorn curls will live with me gaziemir escort forever. It ended with us watching them make love within inches of our eyes, and they us. I had never seen a black male in that sort of detail, and yet did not feel altogether humiliated. Although they were quite apologetic about not going in for l’échangisme, I was well content with that. For at the height of our new discovery of one another, I could never have exchanged Samira for anything I would have liked as much.

With the need to make room, something had been digging into my back. It was only when they had gone, that I noticed several plastic supermarket trays of dried-up flowers. Now I’ve worked with Arabs, and they are no more dishonest or deceitful than Europeans. But the signs are different, and you have to know them. When I asked Samira if she knew what these were, and she denied all knowledge, I knew she was hiding something. Ah well, nobody ever took any harm from trays of flowers, and I put it down to some North African superstition she thought too silly to admit, just as you will find bits of ribbon tied to the great Anchorwyke yew-tree, under which the Magna Carta may have been signed. So I put it from my mind.

It was only weeks later, in Scotland, that I tried to find the place on the internet. You can easily find the Calanque de Sugiton on Google Maps, and on satellite view trace that few hundred yards east along the coast, behind the Torpilleur. I think I can make out two tiny pink blobs on our beach, although they wouldn’t have been us. But it was on a Google search for Calanque des Pierres Tombées that I found something which chilled my heart. The calanque had been closed by the authorities just before we went there, because two people had died in a rock-fall. The spot was clearly indicated on aerial photographs, and we had been not merely yard, but feet at the most, of the spot. What’s more Samira, as a rock-climber with a much wider interest in the calanques she loved so much, must surely have known it.

I’m not neurotic about the danger of death. Large boulders can only fall every few decades, or the place would be filled up with them. If Samira had told me that visiting this supremely enjoyable place involved that modest risk, I’m sure I would have gone for it, even with much milder inducements. It wasn’t all on the basis that a swelling organ blinds us to practicalities, either. She was a friend, and I would have been ashamed to back out of something that gave her pleasure.

The point, though, is that she chose not to tell me. What kind of preoccupation with death might have made her bring me there, all unknowing? Was it some residual guilt, in one of her background, over indulging in no-strings sex? How would I know? I’m only a man, and theories come too pat, sometimes.

I don’t know what I might have done about meeting again, which we had intended, or seeing the relationship become more serious, which didn’t get mentioned. After all, a Muslim and a Presbyterian can surely work things out. But the choice was denied me. Soon afterwards the family called her back to Algeria for an arranged marriage.

I doubt very much if I could have persuaded her out of it, and the only choice was between Samira married, and Samira married, bitter and twisted, which would have done nobody any good. Would I have seen it that clearly without knowing she could contemplate our being squashed flat? Probably not. Will I ever hear of an Algerian couple crushed by rocks on a beach near Marseille? It must be long odds against that, but if it happens, I would hope to miss it.

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