My kind of Turkish Delight

We went through to the back and as we passed the small office I saw Paul take a sharp look at the desk where two days earlier I had panted and groaned as Kemel fucked me. Then we went up the stairs and back into that storeroom.

We had a couple of minutes wait until Kemel appeared with a tray of coffees. He pulled some rugs into the middle of the floor and gestured for us to sit. Coffee was served and Kemel chatted freely. It turned out he had gone to college in London for two years, hence his excellent English.

Whilst we chatted I was very aware that all this discussion about London, rainy weather and English beer was really just small talk, and very soon I was going to be expected to let a virtual stranger fuck me while my husband watched. I felt very nervous and was beginning to wish that I hadn't agreed to this.

It was Kemel who set the ball rolling.

"Sir you will need to be seated comfortably. Let me get you a chair" He disappeared, but soon came back with a faded, but comfortable looking leather chair. He put it to one side of the floor space and gestured for Paul to take his place.

Then he led me by the hand into the middle of the floor.

"Sir" he said to Paul. "I thank you for the knowledge and the pleasure of your beautiful woman". Smarmy git, but no thanks to me I noticed.

He went and stood behind me and I stood there, waiting and wondering what he was going to do. He left me standing there for a minute, just for effect I think, then his hands slid round and cupped my breasts.

Once again I wasn't wearing a bra and Kemel squeezed and kneaded my breasts. My dress buttoned down to the waist and Kemel soon unbuttoned it and pulled it open so that my breasts were on display. Feeling very self-conscious I turned to kiss Kemel, so that at least I wasn't quite so aware of my husband watching me. But Kemel pushed me back round, so that I was again facing Paul. Then he began to stroke my pussy through the material of my dress and I could feel myself responding and becoming aroused.

Slowly and rather theatrically he hitched up the hem of my dress until my lacy pink panties were visible. Then his hand went between my thighs and now he was stroking my pussy through my knickers.

His hands went into the waistband of my knickers and slid them down until they were just above my knees. Now my pussy was on display and again I tried to turn away to hide my embarrassment, but Kemel wouldn't allow it.

His right hand dived between my thighs and he pushed my legs apart and began to probe at my cunt. God I felt such a slut stood there with my legs wide apart, my knickers round my knees and Kemel finger fucking me with wet, squelchy noises, while my husband sat just eight feet away, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers.

I am actually a rather shy girl and this was way, way beyond my normal experience. I was mortified. It was deeply embarrassing being displayed in this way, but the odd thing was that I couldn't deny the fact that it was also a huge turn on. There was no question but that my love juices were really flowing - my cunt was absolutely wet through!

Kemel took one of his fingers and slid it into my mouth.

"What can madam taste?" he asked.

"My cunt" I replied, arching my back and rubbing my ass against his prick.

"And what would madam like in her cunt?"

"Your cock" I replied.

"Pardon madam, you speak so quietly I could not hear that".

"I said I want your prick inside my cunt. I want you to fuck my cunt."

And I did want to feel it. I wanted his big, fat cock to slide between my cunt lips and spread me like it had done before. Reaching up I pulled my dress off, then pulled my panties off and threw them to one side. I chose the softest rug and went down on all fours presenting my arse and cunt to Kemel.

He was soon in position behind me and began to push his prick against my cunt lips.

"Oh yes, that's it" I gasped. "Put him inside me".

"God that's great" said Paul encouraging me. "Keep talking".

I pushed back against Kemel and urged him to fuck me. I got pretty carried away.

"Go on" I said. "Put your prick inside my cunt. Fuck me. That's it. No, harder, harder. Go on fuck me, fill my cunt with your spunk."

All that dirty talk took us both over the edge. Kemel groaned deeply and made a last thrust into me and I cried out and arched my back.

Kemel rolled off me and to my surprise Paul scrabbled frantically to take his place. He pulled his trousers down and rammed his prick into me.

"Sorry" he warned me. "I'm going to come". Half a dozen thrusts and then he added his spunk to the load already in my cunt.

We lay gasping for a while and then slowly got dressed. Kemel went out and returned with some cold drinks for us.

Sat there relaxing a thought suddenly struck me.

"Kemel" I said. "What made you grab hold of me on that first day? Do you grab hold of all the women who come in here"

He smiled. "Of course not - only the young and pretty ones! No, it started two years ago when an American tourist lady came in here on her own. She walked round looking at the carpets, but I had some feeling about her. A feeling that something might be possible. I decided I had to try. If I was wrong what was the worst that could happen - she could slap my face. So in my most charming manner I offered her the service of my body. One minute later I was fucking her in the storeroom. Since then there have been a few women, but not many, you have to pick carefully."

"So why pick me?" I asked.

"Two things" he said. "Beauty and sensuality. You may not think you have this, but you do. You are aware of yourself as a woman, and you have a beautiful face and a beautiful body."

"You mean I look available" I said.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Sensuality and availability are two different things. You have class. Women who are available have no class."

That reply helped to convince me that I hadn't acted like a tart, and certainly my husband didn't seem bothered. He said that watching Kemel thrusting into me had been every bit as exciting as he thought it might be.

Still the next morning on the plane flicking half-heartedly through one of the magazines I was able to think about it a bit more clearly.

Kemel's reply was obviously designed to flatter me and I had fallen for it. But being honest about it, the obvious conclusion is that when he saw me that first afternoon he had correctly identified me as a bored housewife in need of a good screw.

Oh what the hell! I would never see Kemel again, so who cares what he thinks. My husband is happy and I have the satisfaction of being able to count myself as an experienced woman.

Would I take another lover again? I might, but not behind my husbands back. I had heard rumours about goings-on taking place after some of the social events on our estate. Apparently my friends Jayne and Denise and their husbands were involved, so perhaps I ought to drop a hint that Paul and I are up for a bit of fun.