Matilda in the sand

Matilda in the sand Matilda in the sand

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Matilda has at last made it to Marrakesh. Hidden in a burka, she is still discovered and welcomed sweatily by two men.


Matilda has at last made it to Marrakesh. Hidden in a burka, she is still discovered and welcomed sweatily by two men.


Submitted: June 13, 2015

A A A | A A A


Submitted: June 13, 2015



Matilda in the sand

It’s cool in the bazaar.

Over the years and even centuries, layers of desert sand have been shaped by hand to make the domed roofs and the thick walls, so that generations of sellers and buyers could trade in the cave coolness of the market labyrinth.

Matilda savours the sound of the call to prayer coming amplified from high on an unseen minaret. It’s Friday. The beautiful mosques will soon be crowded. She has arrived, at last, and she is not going to leave in a hurry.

Ah, Le Maroc. Matilda has been religiously saving her unemployment payments for months for this once-in-a-life-time trip. And now she is here, actually walking in the scenes of The Sheltering Sky that she has watched countless times in her little attic in Germany.

Already she feels right out of place. With her Munich shades on, her curly red hair flying in the brilliant sun and her tight-fitting light trousers, she is standing out like a tourist just coming off a cruise ship, that she can never afford to be on.

She already physically feels the caresses of the stares of men huddling in the cafes on her bottom that the tight pants are designed to show off and do. It feels like a dozen dusty hands are fondling her at once all over. Not that she is complaining.

This is clearly not the place to show off your bottom, or your boobs, Matilda realises.

A welcome of noises and spice aroma envelop her as she slips into the shades of the bazaar away from the sun and the choking dust outside. Then she saw immediately what she wanted: a little dark store selling burkas, the tent-like traditional dress that Muslim women wear to completely hide their sexuality.

The older woman seller looks strangely when Matilda points to a pure black burka made from lighter fabric that should be cooler. She is even more astonished that Matilda wants to try it on there and then.

When Matilda insists, the seller leads her to a cramped room at the back full of other cloth and a dusty full mirror.

Losing no time to shed her sweaty travel gear, Matilda soon presents a spectacular figure of brilliant white flesh glowing naked in the gloom of the mirror. Her copper hair curls on her head and short blond ones between her legs shine forth as if lit from within.

The young woman takes moments to savour this delectable freckled body that she is already to show to the world.

The burka slips over her naked body like night falling over day. The cool fabric tingles her body skin and she feels free. With the black embroidered hood slipped on, leaving only a narrow slit for her eyes, Matilda feels anonymous and native.

Her practiced hand now feels between her legs. She wonders whether Muslim women are usually naked under their burka and whether they might do what she is doing.

As she is about to begin, a clear reflection of two men, one older and bald, the other younger, appears in the mirror. The men are framed in a nearby window at the back.

How long have they been there?

With her clothes and backpack hidden in a local woven bag, Matilda tries to blend in with other shoppers. Stopping to drink coffee and mint tea off a dusty lane later, not knowing whether Muslim women also do this, Matilda spots the two men she saw in the mirror standing off on the other side of the lane.

“Scheisse,” she mumbles. Are they following me?

Matilda finishes her drinks and moves off fast and turns into another narrow lane, hopefully in the direction of her little hotel. Soon she realises that she is lost.

She doesn’t see the men again until the older bald one walks straight towards her in another narrow lane. Turning, she sees that the younger man is also coming up behind her.

Hitting her panic button, Matilda is confronted by the bald man, with sideburns and grey hair at the temples, standing right in her way.

He smiles gently.

“Hello, my name is Ahmed,” he speaks with a very soft voice. “I saw you earlier. Are you lost?”

“…No, no… I am going to my hotel. It’s OK,” Matilda says.

“There is no hotel around here,” he says.

Matilda feels the younger man standing right behind her.

“Oh, that is my relation Noor, behind you.”

“If you are new to Marrakesh, can we offer you some more mint tea, or lunch? Our house is just in the lane to the left. We would love to practice our English with you,” says Ahmed.

Matilda wants to get away from them but the genuine tone of the invitation stops her. “OK, danke,” she ends up saying.

Ahmed’s wife and his elderly mother are sitting on a beautiful rug in the cool adobe living room just off the lane. Everyone then sits down to drink sweet mint tea followed by delicious warm flat bread rolls with grilled meat inside.

“In the afternoon, we snooze,” says Ahmed. “ So there is a room and a mat upstairs for you if you wish to doze.”

Matilda likes the sound of that invitation too.

After Ahmed had gone, she lays down on the mat in the hot room. As it’s sweaty she pulls the front of her burka up until she is bare from the shoulder downwards. She spreads her legs free, her pale body against the black burka, and is soon asleep.

“That’s a rare sight.”  Matilda hears Ahmed’s voice as she wakes to find the man standing and looking down on her from the end of the mat.  “I have been sitting here enjoying the scene for a while, hope you don’t mind.”

Thick grey and black hair sprouts all over his naked body, and over the bulge of his stomach. From a lush oasis of hair under the stomach sticks out an awesomely thick penis with a round and shiny dark-red head.

“Scheisse,” mumbles Matilda. Then she sees that young Noor has also slipped in near the end wall and is taking off his white tunic.

“Ready for some more Moroccan hospitality?” asks Ahmed, as he kneels between her spreading legs.

“OK,” says Matilda, semi-automatically, while still shrouded by her hood that she had slept in.

Ahmed swiftly pulls off her burka hood, freeing an autumn forest of beautiful red hair. He then falls clumsily on her with his full weight.

Feeling as flat as the lunch bread, Matilda still opens her thighs further to let his large penis in.

All of Morocco is on top of her now and trying to fuck her into oblivion in its welcome. She lets herself be at its mercy, almost crushed to a pulp, but also pushing back with her thighs and pelvis in time to make the most of the Ahmed’s persistent thrusting.

As it is her way, Matilda marks her pleasure points with loud cries that normally go to full blast at her peak. This time there is also strange happy high-pitched yodelling rising from the women down in the lounge, in sympathy with hers.

So in this way the house, and the whole lane in fact, celebrates the arrival of Matilda in Marrakesh.

Lifting himself off the floor, Ahmed signals to Noor to come over. Matilda smiles to him, and also privately to herself when she sees the length of the young man’s penis that he is bringing to her.

As Ahmed moves to collapse in a fat heap in a corner of the room, Noor shyly gestures to Matilda to flip onto her knees, and then helps her to do so. Matilda imagines how her spunky, and actually gorgeous, white bottom must look to the men just now, being offered to Noor like so.

If she had fucked Morocco just now, she is maybe being mated by its animals. And the tall and wiry man on her back is on his long gallop through the desert.

While Matilda had pleasurably imploded into her second shaking orgasm some while ago, her shrieking this time muffled with her face being pushed into the sweaty mat, Noor is taking much longer to reach his finish line but Matilda is not complaining.

Residents of the lane now know that the tall slim woman, always dressed in black burka when she comes and goes, is a foreign woman from Germany who comes at all times day and night.

They hear that she sleeps with both Ahmed and Noor, and often with both of them together in the same bed. The neighbours smile at each other and wait for the loud joyful cries that now come often from the house of Ahmed and his wife Anah.

© Copyright 2018 norachai. All rights reserved.

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