Being a man in an Arab society is not always easy. To this day, I have not figured out whether being a white, Western man makes it actually more or less difficult when it comes to intimate relations within the oriental world outside of marriage. Clear enough, one's luck with sexual encounters is very much dependant on coincidence and the right time, place, circumstances and momentary situation.
There is still no way I would curse my fate of living in Syria, since the country has given me some of the most wonderful experiences in my life: surprising, intense, sensual, deep, lustful, loud and exotic encounters. I do have a liking for oriental women, especially of dark skin colour, and more than once did I have the pleasure of enjoying unforgettable moments.
However, sometimes it gets really hard for a man with a healthy sexual appetite not to become a little frustrated at the offered, yet unreachable charms of female curves. Especially during the summer time, the young and the older women show a liberal attitude towards dressing, by squeezing all available appeals into tight jeans and tops, wiggling their hips up and down the streets.
It was the beginning of July and I had entered just one of those frustration phases. Work was going alright, but my social life had turned out to be somewhat slow lately. Especially, I had not had good sex in quite a while, simply due to the lack of opportunity.
Trying to relax on a Thursday evening in one of the roadside cafés in a modern part of Damascus, I was lazily puffing away on a water pipe while trying to passively fight of the day's heat that only reluctantly retreated into the evening. My mind was surrendering to the number of asses and breasts on offer; they swayed by in all forms and colours: large, small, round, flat, hanging, sticking up, overflowing, pushed up – everything. While earlier on, my groin had shown some latent interest and tried to make some claims, it had stopped after a while and all efforts had died down.
Sipping my fresh strawberry juice, something caught my attention in the corner of my eye. Before I realized it, it was already to late: Maya, one of those women that haunt men in their most beautiful dreams as well as in their worst nightmares, had strolled by. Awestruck, I tried to hide behind my glass and pretended to be highly interested in the stone tiles on the floor.
Maya was one of the most incredible women I had ever seen in my entire life: she was tall, at least 5'9" / 1,75 m, which is gigantic for an Arab woman. Every pore of her body emitted a sensation of passion and lust – and she did every possible thing to enhance that. She usually wore high heels, barefoot, giving her an air of being completely unattainable. Her olive-coloured legs were perfectly shaped and curved upwards in a queen-like manner. Adorable backs of her knees followed and merged into the most female thighs available on this planet. What followed was an ass so powerful to blow away entire armies: round, full, curvy and tasty, exceptionally large but perfect in shape – an absolute rocket. Those few men still able to continue looking further upwards were rewarded with a highly sensual navel in the centre of well-adorned belly, all in the same breathtaking olive skin colour. The breasts were the ultimate weapon: standing far out from her body, they were huge, but in a way that left every mouth wide open and every hand trembling in a futile wish to touch them at least once before death.
As if it wasn't enough, Maya also called a marvellous set of full, red lips her own, which she willingly engaged in enthusiastic conversations. Mostly, her excitement was accompanied by agile, flirtatious eyes that emitted small lightings while speaking. Large curls of pitch-black hair rounded off her appearance. To put it in a nutshell: Maya was an absolutely incredible woman, and she did not mind doing everything to affirm that.
However, and contrary to what everyone believed was her attitude, she was an absolutely sympathetic, friendly and normal woman and friend. Somehow, the contrast between her fascinating looks and her natural behaviour did not come to her attention. Nor did she notice that men were fainting by the dozen when she walked by. I do not recall how many sleepless nights I had spent lonely at home when I had first seen her, and even more after I had met her for the first time. It did not matter that she had a husband who seemed to be out of town quite often. Her simple presence was reason enough to send every cock into stiffness and every set of balls into hurtful swelling.
She really was the last woman I wanted to see and endure that evening in my sorrowful state of sexual frustration. But luck was clearly not on my side, since she spotted me in my pathetic hiding place and steered through the crown right on to my table.
"Hi sweetie," she chirped and every head within a radius of 20 m turned, "how nice to see you, it has been a while! What are you doing all by yourself?"
Swaying between absolute pride and total embarrassment, I produced a smile and motioned towards the empty chair. My cock was already up and hardening when my nose caught her wonderful perfume.
"You look more beautiful than ever, Maya," I managed to deliver, staring in awe at her perfect make-up and her incredible body.
"Oh, you are just joking, I know you," she said and put her gorgeous fingers down on my hand. It was hard to believe, but I was 100% sure that she had no idea about the effect she had on people, especially of the opposite gender. "I am sorry, but I have to run and cannot join you. But why don't you come later to the 'Liquid Lounge', then we can do some dancing together? I will be there from 10 onwards with some friends, you know them."
I tried to conceal my arousal, a feeling she always evoked in my even when only opening her mouth: "I will see, maybe I come for a quick drink. You know I can't resist your suggestions, but this evening it will be a battle."
"I would love to see you there, so think about it... Bye!" With a little wave, she tried to disappear into the streets, but my eyes glued themselves to her swaying ass and followed her halfway through town – at least so I thought. She was one of those women that had this irresistibility: I knew I was going to make a fool out of myself, I was starting my dreaming already and in the end my frustration at the chance I never really had would be even bigger than before.
But it was unavoidable that I went.
It was a small club with a cosy atmosphere, more like a private dance club with friends. Large discotheques do not exist in Syria, so this was as good as it got. But music and ambience was only second-rate that night anyway: I went because Maya had said that she wanted to see me there. It would have been perfect to know her as a friend, as a neuter – it was a pity that I just could not shake off my male instincts and spend some impartial time with her. But so it was.
I spotted her on the tiny dance floor, easy to distinguish amongst the smaller crowd. Of Syrian descent, Maya had been brought up in the UK and only three years ago, had moved back to Syria with her family. Shortly after, she had gotten married and worked in a lawyer's office. I had no idea how anybody around her could actually keep his mind on his paperwork, but luckily that was not my problem.
I greeted some of our common friends and got into kind conversations. This diversion did me actually good, and I felt very much at ease until Maya appeared back from her dancing. Grabbing her drink, she spotted me, moved over and pinched me: "I knew you were coming, great to see you! Just let me get my breath back and we will make it to the dance floor, handsome man!"
Off she went like a whirlwind, leaving me behind with a stunned look. While one half of my brain was debating whether or not I knew her exact age or if the 29 were just a guess, the other half tried to grasp what the eyes were fervently reporting: tight-fitting, beige linen trousers accentuated every single detail of Mayas figure, while her upper body was held together by a white wrap shirt that made her large breasts stick out even more than usual. How was I going to survive that evening?
