The nights of Marrakech… an intimate oasis of desire

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I never want to leave this place again. Marrakech is magical, if magic were a refuge reserved for adults nestled in the ancient walls of the medina. The air is fragrant with spices and jasmine, and the view of the Atlas Mountains is breathtaking. The staff here, in their elegant outfits, look like modern-day geniuses, working wonders with their hands. I haven’t seen them perform miracles, but the food is divine (even if it is, uh, healthy) and the wine flows like liquid gold.

I won’t apologize for not writing every day; I’ve been too busy savoring every moment. It was amazing to escape with George, to unplug and let go of our daily stresses. We should have done this years ago, but we are making up for lost time. Every day of the last week has been spent relaxing, strange as it may seem. I learned the basics of Moroccan cuisine and, in exchange, George agreed to try a local dance class.

Oh, he growled, but he gave it his all, and I love him for that. Watching him dance the dance steps – his muscles rippling with every turn – was as captivating as the class itself. Seeing him dance the traditional dance made me feel hotter than the Moroccan sun. And when he danced the salsa? I was practically melting with desire. In the middle of class, I moved to the front of the room, making sure George had a clear view of my hips swaying to the beat of the music.

As soon as I got back to our riad after class, George was all over me, his hands running over my body, his lips searching mine. It was amazing, Diary, that our passion is still so ardent! We have been here for five nights, making love every night with an intensity that left us both breathless. The magic of Marrakech, the relaxation and the warmth seemed to have erased the years. We loved as teenagers, passionate and frequent, in our luxurious bed, sometimes under the light of the stars, sometimes by the glow of lanterns.

And even after five nights of incessant passion, there we were, flushed by the dance class, our clothes flying off as if swept by a desert storm. No sooner had we taken off our clothes than George lifted me up with his powerful arms, placing me on the bed with a playful push. His breath was hot against my skin as he made love to me with a fervor that corresponded to the exotic energy of our environment.

We were soaping each other while we adjusted to the temperature, and once again, I enjoyed running my hands over George’s body, his hard and smooth muscles. But I still wanted that dick. I turned around and pushed him against the stone wall, my buttocks pressed against him, his cock throbbing and engorged between my cheeks. I turned my hips, rubbing it, loving that we were creating a core of warmth that the cold water could not begin to temper. George was using one hand to massage my breasts and the other to rub my pussy, his strong, rough fingers teasing my slippery entrance, the flesh of the spikes rubbing my throbbing clit. I wanted everything to revolve around him, Diary, but won’t you blame me for a few minutes of love for the attention paid to my pussy? Especially since George was panting in my ear telling me that he appreciated the feeling of my warmth and humidity under this talented hand.

He was exploring every inch of me with a concentrated attention that I had never seen before. We have been married for twenty years and he has always been a devoted lover. But here he seemed even more patient, more devoted. It was as if the magical atmosphere of Marrakech had strengthened his attention, making every touch and every caress more exciting.

It didn’t take me long to reach orgasm, Diary. This is never the case with George’s expert touch. Retirement has made him as close to perfection as a lover can be. He focused intensely on my pleasure, his senses listening to each of my sounds and movements. It’s as if the desert heat and the exotic atmosphere have revitalized our connection.

Yesterday, I found myself constantly thinking about his touch, his kiss. As we were getting ready for the evening’s festivities, I was overwhelmed with desire. He came out on the balcony wearing only a towel, and I was consumed by an urgent need to have him.

Sitting next to him, I let my hand explore his powerful thigh. Despite my intentions, he finished his tea and headed for the private sauna. Undeterred, I followed him and instead of changing into a towel, I boldly climbed into his lap, my intentions being clear as day.

I savored the warmth of her skin, the strength of her arms and the promise of her body against mine. His hard cock pressed hungrily against me, and I was lost in a fog of desire. He guided me to sit on the lower step of the sauna, where I surrounded him with my legs.

The feeling of his cock in my hand was intoxicating. As I caressed him, I whispered to him how much I loved him and his amazing body. He replied with moans of pleasure, which only fueled my desire.

I led him to the luxurious shower, where the cool water offered a refreshing contrast to our burning passion. We soaped each other while we adjusted to the temperature, and once again, I enjoyed running my hands over George’s body, the muscles hard and smooth. But I still wanted that dick. I turned around and pushed him back against the stone wall, my ass pressed against him, his cock throbbing and engorged between my cheeks. I turned my hips, rubbing it, loving that we were creating a core of heat that the cold water could not begin to temper. George was using one hand to massage my breasts and the other to rub my pussy, his strong, rough fingers teasing my slippery entrance, the flesh of the spikes rubbing my throbbing clit. I wanted everything to be for him, Diary, but won’t you blame me for a few minutes of love for the attention paid to my pussy? Especially since George was panting in my ear telling me that he appreciated the feeling of my warmth and humidity under this talented hand.

Sitting on the floor, I impaled myself on his cock, bouncing with abandon. The wet floor was nothing compared to the fire burning inside me. I lost count of the times I came, but I remember the intense pleasure, the way his cock completely filled me and the satisfaction of bringing him to the brink.

When he finally came, it was the culmination of everything – a mixture of warmth and liberation that left us both gasping for breath. His cum was warm against my skin, a perfect counterpoint to the cold water.

After that, George led me to the beautiful Jacuzzi, where the water seemed warm compared to the feeling of freshness on my skin. We shared a deep kiss, the warmth of our love still lingering. “It was amazing,” he said. “We should come here every year. »

I smiled. “We will. But let’s not wait for a retirement to have sex like that. »

George smiled. “I thought about installing a larger shower at home. »

When we try it, Diary, you’ll be the first to hear all the details…

هذه المقالة متاحة أيضًا بـ: العربية (Arabic) 简体中文 (Chinese (Simplified)) Français (French) Deutsch (German) 日本語 (Japanese) Español (Spanish)