Gay sex with Mustafa the handsome

Mustafa was the best looking waiter in the hotel. He was dark, classically handsome and had eyes that drew me in and made me weak. There was a theatrical element to him as he was always over-correct, very formal and over-acting his role of waiter. He walked with a confident and sexy swagger. His trousers were a little tighter than those of the other waiters and they seemed to be of a different cut altogether. They hugged a pert and rounded bottom which I could barely take my eyes off. He was also around ten years my junior and I thought probably straight with no shortage of offers and opportunities from young girl guests in the season.

About two weeks in to my three weeks stay, I caught him eying my crotch as I walked towards him. I always made a point of speaking to him whenever I saw him at meal times but little beyond pleasantries in my limited command of Turkish. He always seemed to warm to me and now I started to hope that he may even be interested in me.

When I was alone at the table he started coming unnecessarily often and lingering. This gave me loads of opportunities to admire his lean physique and especially his gorgeous buttocks. I wanted him. He would come to the other side of the table to me and exchange a few words in Turkish allowing me to gaze into his eyes. I could rarely stop myself looking down at the front of his trousers too, something he must have noticed. He was completely flat-fronted with no visible evidence of anything there at all. This became something of a curiosity for me and I found myself eying him up at every encounter looking for the slightest suggestion of his elusive manhood.

I finally plucked up the courage to test his interest. I asked him if he knew of a local Turkish Bath, a "Turkish hamam, not tourist hamam". I thought that if he were interested this would be his chance to offer to take me and join me in the hamam and perhaps take things further. He shook his head ponderingly and indicated he would find out. He returned and started to give me directions. My heart plummeted along with my foolish hopes. Then he told me he would come with me. My hopes were promptly restored.

We arranged to meet the next day when he finished work at four o'clock, outside the hotel. I had a whole day to grow nervous. What if he was just being friendly to a foreigner, or looking for a tip and a free Turkish bath? What if I made a move on him and he rejected me? How would I face the embarrassment of seeing out my remaining time in the hotel with not just him but all his colleagues knowing of my failed exploit? He would surely enjoy telling them. I resolved to proceed very cautiously.

I was in the street at the front of the hotel shortly after four. I waited on him for a change. He arrived looking more scrumptious in jeans than his hotel uniform had so far revealed. I couldn't stop myself from checking the front of his jeans, which he noticed but let pass without reaction. He was completely flat-fronted even in close-fitting jeans and this puzzled me. I told him he looked very "chic" as this was the limit of my Turkish.

We set off walking in to the resort trying to communicate as we avoided the dozens of obstacles, holes and raised slabs in the pavement. Occasionally I found myself behind him as we negotiated past a car parked on the pavement and secretly drooled at the sight of his tight buttocks in his jeans. I was wearing loose boxers under loose linen trousers and as I walked my lengthening penis started to brush against my boxers.

He talked to me in a mixture of German and Turkish, looking as happy as a newly-adopted stray dog. Now that I had his undivided attention I could look in to his deep Mediterranean eyes not just for a second or so before he strutted off to another table, but for as long as I wanted. I became more aroused as we strolled along. On our next little exchange, I found myself looking at his lips as we spoke. His voice was confident but gentle, clear but in languages I had little grasp of. His lips were divine. I became conscious of mine and I noticed I was becoming short of breath. Now my penis was firmly pushing up against my trousers. I saw him look down at me but, other than the slightest of double takes, he didn't react. The combination of the physical stimulation from walking, the visual stimulation of Mustafa, and the promise of what could happen in the hamam were proving too much. I had reached the point where I knew I was going to have a full-on erection.

At the next obstruction, I fell behind him and adjusted my penis upright and pulled down my t-shirt to make it less noticeable. When I rejoined him a few steps later, I had already failed as it had dropped down a little and was protruding more than ever. I suddenly took a sharp intake of breath as my lungs struggled to catch up with my racing heart. He looked first at my lips and then noticed the wobbling tent below my waist. We stopped. Now I was at his mercy. Would he think me some sort of pervert, getting up on just walking?

He laughed once and said "alahla", like 'oh my god'. In the uncertainty of the moment I casually apologised and shrugged my shoulders. He replied saying in Turkish, "very, very nice". He looked into me and for that moment there was nothing in existence apart from our two faces fixed on each other, and my erection. "Sex ?" he asked. He didn't know how badly I wanted him, sex or not, I just wanted him. I felt myself falling into his eyes as I nodded and panted in a way I would have laughed at anyone else apparently faking desire in such a crass way. I blinked and switched my gaze to his inviting luscious lips. How could anyone have this affect on me?

I started to feel myself tremble and I had to stop my teeth chattering. "Shall we go to a hotel?" I mumbled. "OK" he said, non commitingly. It was still hard to read him but my desires were now firmly leading me. He would surely have been sacked if he had come to my room in our hotel. I knew of another hotel that I had stayed at a couple of years before. It was a top-quality hotel in the resort centre, at the end of the run of expensive designer shops. Expensive and indulgent and probably as discrete as any local hotel was likely to be. The only problem was getting there, it was some 10 minutes walk away and not only did I now have full-on erection but I was in danger of coming before we got there. As I looked down the street planning the route I caught site of a taxi. It was going the wrong way but provided the answer.

"Taxi" I said. Another "OK" but this time he took my word as a command and went in the road to see clear of the trees looking both ways. I studied him. He seemed eager, willing, even a little panicked looking to hail down a taxi as if I were his wife about to give birth on the pavement. But I wasn't, it was "sex" on our minds. Did he think I would lose my erection unable to achieve it again or was he as desperate as me to consume his desire? I took the opportunity to lower the waist band of my boxer shorts in an attempt to hold in my erection. I pulled down my t-shirt again. I thought that we could now walk without being publicly indecent.

I grabbed his hand to pull out of the street and indicate the change in plan. It was the first time I had actually touched him and it made me tremble again. "No taxi, we can walk, come". I pointed with my other hand. He held on to my hand as we turned off the main street towards the hotel down the quieter back streets. In Turkey, you occasionally see two male friends walking holding hands without any sexual significance. It appears very odd to our Western eyes. Now Mustafa and I were firmly holding and stroking each others hands as my heart and mind raced. I couldn't stop the trembles or my teeth from chattering and my erection was so hard it was starting to ache. We spoke very little but when we did, he seemed high and happy with his eyes were sparkling.

We eventually arrived in the smart foyer and let our hands go as we approached the reception. Filling out the guest card, my handwriting was visibly affected. I asked for a 'senior suite', the most expensive but this was not the time to count the pennies. Mustafa told the porter that we didn't need him to show us our room. I am sure that the receptionist had a good idea as to why we were there.

The moment the lift doors closed I looked into those bottomless eyes again and then his lips as the gravity of inevitability brought our lips together. He tasted of tobacco which I could not imagined previously that I would have liked. Now it was delicious. The kiss was very gentle, refrained and incredibly sensuous. His breathing was deep and and steady while mine, along with my body now in touch with his, revealed my trembling. We laughed at my relative tallness, my arching down to him. My erection pressed against his stomach. The lift stopped and we walked hand in hand again to the very end of the corridor to our suite. As I was trying to operate the key card he started to horse play, putting his arms around my stomach from behind. I so wanted him to put his hands a little lower. We went in and I turned towards him as he closed the door. I finally pulled up the waistband of my boxers and allowed my hard erection free. He stepped towards me putting his hands first on my back then lowered them slowly on to my buttocks. He gently pressed his body against mine as I finally got to put my hands on those buttocks I had admired since I first caught sight of him.

We kissed again, this one more juicy and strident. He started brushing his taught young stomach against my erection. My whole body was trembling. I think he knew how close to orgasm I was and it seemed to get him worked up. Those moments in the arms and lips of Mustafa with my staggered gasps and involuntary muscular contractions were, without question, some of the sweetest of my life. I was held on the verge of orgasm, on the verge of fainting, in ecstasy, unable to think, unable do anything, unaware of the past, without concern for the future and with the object of my all-consuming desire. His hands were on my clenching buttocks, his legs inside mine. I wanted him completely inside me. He moved me in his dance, gently directing my body in opposite directions to his, rubbing, through our clothes, my pulsating erection against his his stomach. My neck was wet with his saliva. His breathing was accelerating as was the pace of his dance.

The moment of inevitability arrived. I yelled out loud and gripped him hard. I probably bruised him. I certainly hit him hard in the stomach a few times with my ejaculating penis. I continued to grip his buttocks as the aftershocks rhythmically left my body.

I stepped back panting, barely able to believe that this was just the first two minutes in our room! He pointed to the wet patch on my linen trousers and I guessed he said to take them off. We walked, me unsteadily, through a small but beautifully appointed living room and in to the bedroom, which looked rather bland by comparison - a standard hotel room with one queen-sized bed. I went in to the bathroom where there was a jacuzzi bath. Sadly it was not large enough for two. I undressed and had a very quick shower washing off the semen and washing my bottom - just in case. I replaced my t-shirt as a gesture of modesty. When I joined him he was stripped to his boxers sitting up on the bed and looked amazing. I forgot the embarrassment of my weak shoulders and slightly podgy stomach as I looked upon his wondrous lean, hairy dark body. His boxers were fairly close fitting but not close enough to reveal anything inside. I knew I would have to remove them.

Opposite the bed was a wall-mounted LCD TV and things to make tea and coffee. With them were three little pots of honey. I grabbed them and took them to the bedside. I asked and gestured for him to lie down flat. He obliged. I trickled the first part of a pot on to his neck as he laughed. I got on to bed alongside him and proceeded to lick the honey over and very slowly off his neck. He was delicious. His laughter turned into heavy breathing. It didn't take long before my penis was back up to full strength, now mostly in contact a naked thigh. I gestured him to close his lips and trickled sticky honey over them. I got over him and licked them and his luscious tongue. It was a real honey tongue fest.

He pulled of my t-shirt and put his hands on my naked buttocks, moving the fingers of one hand in to the crack. The sensation and surprise of his finger pushing in caused another sharp intake and yelp. He moved it forwards and backwards, getting deeper and giving me a clear signal that he wanted to fuck me.

I hadn't seen his penis yet and didn't want to roll over and be fucked until I knew the size of it. I now hoped, in line with my earlier surveys, that it was small so that it wouldn't hurt too much. Besides, he was getting ahead and there were still two pots of honey to go and more parts of his body to explore.

I gently moved over to the centre of the bed, making him pull out his finger. I emptied a whole pot of honey around his belly button over his dark, hairy stomach, avoiding his boxer shorts and their contents, for now. I noticed a tent to his boxer shorts. He had a penis after all. I guessed his was about the same size as mine. I started to lick and now it was his turn to be surprised. There were little muscular contractions accompanied by whimpers and "alahla" over and over again. He put a hand on my head once and signalled for me to go lower. I made him wait a little longer. It was a great tease and I guessed he was now fully hard-on.