Arabian Adventure

After more than one year of living in Syria, my love life had turned out to be much more varied than I ever could have expected. Hidden behind a curtain of social norms and religious habits, deep lust and longing had unveiled itself to me and more than once I had deeply gotten entangled in a night of passionate sex with an Arab woman. However, my latest adventure proved to be even more daring and surprising than the previous ones.

May was just the perfect month to be in Damascus: hot like a European summer, trees and flowers in full blossom and the entire city was waking up from its self-imposed winter sleep by strolling around until late at night. It was also the time when the old town houses converted into restaurants started opening up the roof of their court yards to reveal the night skies to the diners below.

I had the chance to spend one of these wonderful evenings with some friends and colleagues, enjoying the various delicacies of Syrian cuisine at its best. While lazily puffing away on a hubble bubble (or narghile in Arabic), I noticed the big party that had taken the table next to us. While most of them were couples in their 50ies and 60ies, the sight of two women in their midst struck me as quite unusual.

First the fact that they did not really fit into the group; and second that although they seemed to be close friends, they could not have been more different in their appearance: one was clearly influenced by Western society and dressed that way with tight jeans, a stretched top showing her curvy figure and long, curly hair to perfectly frame her oriental features; the other one was covered in the black Arabic dress, the abbaya, including the matching head scarf so that only her dark, black eyes showed.

While I was watching them, I realised that they must have been observing me before, since they started discussing some topic while looking into my direction. Their giggling seemed to confirm my suspicions, and suddenly I was met with two brightly lit pairs of eyes looking into mine and starting to smile. Somehow uncertain about this unexpected show of attention, I returned to my hubble bubble and kept puffing away.

However, every time my look wandered into their direction, I caught a smile or a glimpse of something undefined by both of them, as if they were sizing me up for something – not quite the usual way of consideration that I had gotten used to in Syria. Playing along with them, I gave them some of my most beautiful smiles and simply enjoyed the moments of the wonderful spring night.

When I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I did not immediately notice that both women also started in the same direction. When we almost bumped into each other in the anteroom, we seemed all equally surprised. After a moment of an insecure exchange of smiles, the Western-style woman was the first one to speak: "Btehki arabi (Do you speak Arabic)?" she asked me.

"Bass shway (Just a little)," I replied, "my English is a lot better. Do you speak English?"

"I do," she gave back, "but my friend only speaks a little bit. But she can understand quite well!"

"Then maybe English is the better option," I suggested with a smile. "What are your names?"

"I am Samira and my friend's name is Zahra."

I brought my hand to my heart, observing the Arabian rule not to shake hands with women, and introduced myself.

Into the little pause that followed, Samira spoke again: "Can we have your phone number?"

"Oh yes, of course," I replied quite surprised; this was really an unusual move. But I was not willing to spoil the moment, although I did not really make much of all that.

Samira took down my number into her cell phone. Then she motioned towards the toilets: "I guess we better continue, otherwise everybody will be wondering where we are!" And with a final look to me she said: "We will call you; we want to meet you again!"

Zahra had been following our conversation with a certain reserve, although she gave the impression of having understood the topic. As if to make up for her silence, she gave me one deep and long final look from her dark eyes before disappearing behind her friend into the bathroom.

Still wondering, I emerged shortly after to rejoin my friends at the table, where we got ready to pay the bill and leave. A final look to the neighbouring table was met by two pairs for eyes smiling happily – and both Samira and Zahra gave me a hidden bye-bye wave.

By the next day, I had almost forgotten about the incident at the restaurant, when in the afternoon, my cell phone announced an incoming call. Not recognizing the number, I answered and was met by a familiar voice: "Hi, this is Samira, you remember me from yesterday?"

Well, that was a real surprise! "Hi Samira, of course I remember you, but I never thought you would really call! How was your evening yesterday, did you stay for long at the restaurant?"

"Oh yes," she replied, "we stayed for quite long, it was just a shame that you had left so early! We had much more fun when you were still there."

"Well, I could see that, you two were constantly gossiping secretly in my direction. What did you talk about?"

"Women's stuff," she answered teasingly, leaving a small pause after her remark. "What are you doing now; do you maybe have time for a coffee?"

That was an even more unusual move, but I had learned not to be surprised too much in this society. "I am actually just strolling around in the park in Shala'an and I would not mind a coffee. What do you have in mind?"

"Do you know the 'La Trattoria', that's not far from you? I am sure you have been there. What about meeting there in half an hour?"

I agreed, then starting to become a little nervous. What did that woman actually want from me? She had been asking me straightforward for my phone number, and now she was inviting me for a coffee? Deeply immerged in my thoughts, I strolled towards the cafeteria and sat down, reserving the opposite seat for her.

Samira showed up right on time and sat down opposite me, giving a fully content smile at her successful initiative. I did not show my slight disappointment that Zahra was not in her company, remembering her last look in that restaurant one day before. However, that did not stop me from watching Samira more intensely in daylight: she was a true woman in her mid-30ies, with full hair highlighted by dyed streaks. That day, she wore black trousers that showed her female curves and a purple blouse, whose reflection gave her smile an extra touch of spring. Her well-groomed appearance matched her flashy make-up.

Positively enough, we got along instantly and our meeting was like that of old friends: we chatted about ourselves, our current jobs and leisure activities in and around Damascus. Samira had lived for some years in Beirut, giving her the aura of a cosmopolitan woman who spoke outstanding English; this was clearly something not to be found in Syria. But despite our loose conversation, I kept having the feeling that she was having something in mind, some intentions that were at that point not quite clear to me.

Things only started to lighten up when I asked about her friend: "So, how is Zahra doing? Why did she not join us?"

Her face took on a more conspiratorial expression: "Well, Zahra would have loved to be here with you and me, but that is a somehow complicated story..." She waited for my consent to continue. "She told me that she really found you very attractive and appealing as a man. That is not something easily said for a Syrian woman, but somehow she has taken on an interest in you. I know I am being very open right now, is that ok for you?"

I stirred a little in my seat, not exactly knowing where this was going to lead. But I was bound to find out: "Sure, go ahead."

"Ok, so I will be frank with you. If you think what I say is crazy, please feel free to get up and leave; the coffee is on my anyway." She paused for a moment, and then continued. "You see, I and Zahra have been friends for a very long time and we share each others joys and problems. Zahra is a married woman, as you can probably imagine. Although her marriage is quite good, there is one area where she and her husband don't seem to find a right connection: they are not having good sex." When saying these words, she had lowered her voice a little and had looked around. After all, we were still in a public place, where conversations like this were not really appropriated.

She looked back at me and cleared her throat. Despite her self-confident aura, this was even for her a quite sensitive topic. "The point is: Zahra is really longing to have a fulfilling, intense sexual experience. And when she saw you, she thought maybe she could make this experience with you."

I was totally stunned at her words. Here was an Arabian woman, telling me that her friend wanted to have sex with me? I had to swallow once, twice, and then tried to speak; but nothing came out.

Samira saw my surprise and put her hand on mine: "I am sorry if I have been too straightforward. I did not mean to overrun you with this."

"No, no, it's fine, I am just... just totally surprised," I managed to stutter, before adding with a smile: "But I am also honoured that your friends thinks of me like that."

This seemed to relax Samira a little: "See, she could never do something like this with an Arab man, that simply is not possible. We have been talking about this recently, and when she saw you, she instantly saw a chance. You are a Westerner and not so bound into our social ties. And, if I may add that, since I think myself that you are a very handsome man and I had a good feeling about you from the beginning, I promised to support her in this. After all, we did not meet in front of the bathroom just by coincidence..."

Wow, now that was some kind of proposal! I settled back in my chair and breathed in deeply. Thoughts shot through my head, and before I could get some discipline into their errant back-and-forth moves, I blurted out the first concern that came to my mind: "But how do you, err, I mean how does she want to do that? She is married and living with her husband?"

Samira's smiled widened to a grin: "She is spending quite some time at my home, and I do not have anyone to monitor my moves." She paused for a moment in order to let me take in what she had just said, before she continued: "So what do you say, is that something totally impossible or is there a chance to put that into practice? I am sure you won't regret it, Zahra can be very intense and giving."

This woman was really incredible: she just made the most indecent proposal that I had ever heard without so much as blinking - and now she looked me straight into the eye and even extolled the qualities of her friend!

But by now, I had regained most of my self-control. This situation was just too interesting not to find out where it could lead to. I could still say 'no' later if I did not feel at ease with it, but I definitely wanted to continue this game for now. Besides, men are pretty single-minded when it comes to some issues, so my decision was clear: "Ok, I want to see where this actually leads to. Do you have some kind of plan for the event?"

"Great, this is really great, Zahra will be so excited! You know what? I will call her right away; let's see when we can do that."

Amazed by the quickness of her action, I watched her make a call on her cell phone. It took a while until she got an answer, but then she started speaking agitatedly into Arabic. From her expressions changing between embarrassment, calming and excitement, I could tell that Zahra was at least as surprised as I had been. Suddenly, Samira turned to me and asked expectantly: "Do you have plans for this evening?"

My heart jumped; all I could do was shake my head. I guess even if I had had any plans, no appointment in the world would have stopped me from making me free for that.

After some more laughing phrases in Arabic, Samira closed her phone and looked at me in full anticipation: "Ok, we are set. Zahra will come to my place at 7. We still need to prepare some things, and most of all I will have to calm her down, she was so excited and nervous! But I must admit, I am excited myself, this is really something special."

How damned right she was!

I was way too caught up in my own thoughts to remember exactly what happened between the café and my home. But I did recall the way to Samira's apartment, which she had showed me; it was not far away from my own.

Needless to say that the rest of the afternoon passed uselessly for me between watching TV, making something to eat and preparing myself for the evening: a clean shave around all the interesting body parts was a natural course of action and my clothes almost selected themselves.

So I geared up just around 8 p.m. and, after inhaling deeply in front of the mirror, I set off. My hands were shaking when I pressed the bell to her door, and my knees were in no better shape when I climbed up the three floors. Not knowing what to expect and what to make of the course of events until that point really made me nervous.

Samira looked fabulous when she welcomed me at the door and bade me in. Her small welcome kiss on my cheek did little to calm me down; she took my hand and led me to her living area. The apartment was huge, even under Damascene circumstances, and obviously consisted of quite a number of further rooms leading away from the entrance area. With a tasteful mixture between kitsch and modern design, Samira had proven good taste and created a beautiful home for herself – and for her guests.

Only vaguely I noticed that also Samira had prepared herself for a special evening by putting on a wide skirt and a tight top that revealed more cleavage than usually permitted. But my thoughts went to the woman that had the intention of having sex with me and I looked around: "Where is Zahra? She did not run away, did she?"

Samira laughed: "No way, and if she had made any attempt, I would not have let her. This is her big chance of getting what she was wishing for so long. And what about you, are you having second thoughts?"

This straightforward question raised not only my attention, but also brought some movement in my groin region for the first time that evening. Samira's playful way of talking about this seemingly absurd situation had a relaxing effect on me, and I noticeably loosened up. "You can imagine that this is one of the strangest situations that I have ever been in during my entire life. Apart from her eyes, I don't know anything about her! Only your telling me that she wants to live her desires with me tonight gives me any clue about what is going to happen." I breathed deeply and then smiled to her. "But you know, Samira, I regard you as something like an ally, so I just trust you along. By the way, what will you be doing when we..., you know..., get to know each other?"

"I haven't decided yet, I will see how things are going with the two of you!" She gave me long and considerate look: "Maybe I will leave you alone; maybe I will stay here..."

Her words had not faded away when my cock responded and instantly grew hard. What was that supposed to mean? But I did not get the chance to pursue this thought any further.

"Before you start thinking too much," Samira interrupted my train of thought and handed me a glass of juice. "I'd say we better get into the mood for an exciting evening. Have you seen belly-dancing before?"

"Of course I have, and it was a pretty good one, too. Why do you ask?"

"Just sit back and watch," she suggested, while bending over to turn on the stereo with some Arabic instrumental music. "Zahra has been practising that for more than ten years."

Suddenly, the door to one of the rooms opened up and an absolutely stunning sight was offered to me. My jar dropped and my mouth stood open. A dazzlingly beautiful woman emerged and with dancing moves made her way towards us. I could not see her face under the veil, but who else could it be than Zahra? Still trying to catch my breath, I followed her every movement of entering the room.

She wore a shimmering costume in all shades of green that left her belly exposed. Her arms and shoulders were also naked and my mind was racing to catch up with all the beautifully exposed parts of her body. It was my first chance of seeing her and taking her body in: round and well-shaped with brilliantly shining skin in a light touch of olive. Her belly was obviously designed for dancing, it had just the right curves leading downwards and the little padding on her hips was twisting excitedly. The long skirt covered most of her legs, and only her ankles were prone to my luscious gazes.

She really knew what she was doing; there was no comparison with everything I had ever seen before. Expertly, she swung her hips back and forth with incredible speed and agility, her arms flinging to the rhythm of the music, and all that was accompanied by the stimulating noise of her dress in motion. Entranced, I could not take my eyes of her dancing belly; my eyeballs were glued to her button in the middle of all this wild and controlled commotion.

When she turned around for the first time and I saw the dress falling off her ass, I guess I had to clasp the armrest for support in order not to jump forward and sink my teeth into it; it offered itself in such an astonishingly juicy fashion and swayed lustily back in forth as if to challenge my self-control.

Like through a veil of mist I noticed that Samira had put her hand on my knee and spoke into my ear: "I have never seen it myself, it is incredible, don't you think?"

I guess I did not even answer, but my behaviour said it all. Zahra's performance was incredible, and when it slowly dawned to me that this dancing woman actually wanted me to become intimate with her, I realized I already had a rock-hard cock in my pants. I still had not spoken a single word with Zahra, but at that point I was absolutely determined to please her in every way possible – my cock would lead the way and I would do everything to follow through.

After what seemed like an eternity of this extraordinary performance, Zahra slowly retreated into the room where she had emerged from earlier. It took some time until her spell wore off, and my eyes were still desperately trying to follow some imaginative dancing movements. The first thing I felt when I slowly came back into reality was a hand stroking the huge bulge in my pants.

"She really seems to have impressed you," Samira's voice hardly carried through to my hearing canal, while she continued caressing my groin. "Don't you want to go after her and show her what you both came here for?"

All I had to do at that point was to get up and go after my swollen dick. Upon entering the room, I was welcomed by a warm darkness, and the smell of sweet, sinful perfume filled the air. Almost imperceptible reflections of the ornaments of her dress indicated that Zahra was draped on a huge bed that almost filled the entire room. When I moved closer, I could feel and hear her breathing, and a wave of heat and excitement was carried into my direction.

"Ta'a hoon - come to me!" Not more than a whisper and with a wonderful Arabic accent, Zahra took the initiative for the next step. The darkness allowed me to progress only instinctively, but this was not the worst move; when sitting down on the bed, our hips met and I could follow the shade of her body up to her head. With my hand, I made the first intentional contact with her skin at her neck. A layer of hot sweat received my touch, and shortly after I felt her lips kissing my fingers.

I still have no explanation what had happened to us, but we had a mutual understanding that there was one thing we both wanted that moment, without any delay: unite our bodies, making passionate and wild love.