Turkish Holiday Ch. 01

"Urrrrrhh... pretty lady... pretty feet," the old man groaned.

Beatrice increased her efforts. She had to admit his hands and his cock felt nice and sensual on her feet. She felt her toes getting slippery and she knew the old man was leaking semen. She was amazed just her feet were exciting him so much. She had an urge to giggle at the scene but stifled it. She was mesmerized by his cock and his face. His breathing was getting more ragged. She almost laughed again but with worry the old thing would keel over with a heart attack because he found her feet so erotic, so hot, so desirable.

"Ohhhh....ohhhhhh... arrrrrrh," the old man groaned. He gripped her feet tighter, then when the English lady curled her beautiful toes all around the head and tip of his manhood and her soles pressed against the staff, he reached his ecstasy. "ARRH! Pretty feet!"

Bea's eyes grew large as she felt his big cock start surging. She could feel each spurt shoot up the big cock. She felt the first gob of hot, viscous fluid spew out the tip. It gushed between her toes. She clenched her cunnie and anus. She murmured as the second and third spit of hot lotion gushed out, "Oh my... oh my goodness." There were four more spurts before the old man was empty. She saw the white goo drooling down from her toes. She looked up to his face. The old man was grinning like a little boy. He was breathing heavily.

"Oh... pretty English lady." The old man looked at what he had done to her feet. He leaned to the side and picked up one of the towels from the chair. He lovingly wiped her feet, even between her pretty toes. He then set the towel down, leaned back so his arse set on the angle portion of the shoe stool. He leaned down and brought her feet to his face. He opened his mouth wide and took the toes of her right foot into his mouth and sucked them as his tongue wiggled between her toes.

Bea's eyes grew even larger. "Oh... oh my goodness." Her pussy clenched and her bottom squirmed on the chair. It was grotesque, perverted, and disgusting but she couldn't deny she was feeling shivering thrills too. She kept clenching and relaxing her tender cunt automatically, and she actually felt a little tingling delight between her legs. He orally cleaned her other foot, the tingling between her legs intensified when his tongue wiggled between her toes. He set her feet on the floor. He then zipped up his trousers, moved the pan of water, raised her feet once again and placed them in the warm bath. He used the sea sponge to bathe them. He was gentle and thorough. He then raised one foot and dried it with the fresh towel, resting it on his thigh, then did her other foot.

Ibrahim spoke in Turkish, there was irritation in his voice.

The old man replied with similar irritation in his voice. But then he looked at the pretty English lady and smiled. "Thank you." He lay the towel on the floor, and moved her feet to it. He leaned down, straightened his bare forearm so it was parallel to the floor, then raised her foot again and placed it on his hand and arm, her heel at the tip of his middle finger. He marked his arm with a light scratch of his fingernail, then put her foot back on the towel. He stood, picked up the other towel and pan then hurried to the back room again.

Ibrahim spoke, "Now present. I present you."

Beatrice got nervous again. What was going to happen next? A minute later the old man came scurrying out of the back room again, carrying a few boxes. He gave Ibrahim one. Ibrahim opened it, nodded and said something in Turkish. The old man handed him another box, small one. Ibrahim again nodded. He handed a third larger one to him. Once again Ibrahim nodded, but this time a little smirk of a smile appeared on his mouth for a moment. The old man sat down on the stool and opened a shoe box. He pulled out a very high spiked heeled pump, the body of the shoe was classic and plain. Bea guessed the heels were 4 inches at least. She looked at the old man's face. He was grinning, then he looked at Uncle.

Ibrahim nodded.

"You like, pretty English lady?" The old man pulled out a shoe horn from his back pocket.

"I... I... um... yes... fine." She wondered how much they were going to force her to pay for the pumps she'd never wear. She would look whorish in pumps like that. Her pussy clenched yet again when the old man's gentle hands guided her foot into the pump. He looked up at her.

"Okay?"

She was amazed but it actually felt like the exact perfect fit. The old man pointed to the red mark his nail had left on his inner forearms. "Yes... yes, it's fine." She watched him put the other pump on her left foot.

"You... you go then come." Ibrahim made a motion with his hand to the rear of the store then back.

The old man shifted the stool back as he kept sitting on it.

Bea exhaled and stood up. She had never worn heels so high, especially spiked heels. She walked towards the rear of the story for a half dozen paces. She turned. The old man was grinning, his eyes on her feet. Uncle was smiling too, but looking at her legs. She walked back to her chair and sat down.

The old man raised his eyebrows. "Good?"

"Yes, yes... they're fine. Yes, good." She saw the old man grin again.

"In... in box, yes?"

"What? Oh... um... yes." She watched him take the pumps off , then almost lovingly put her sandals on her freshly bathed feet. He gave the box to Uncle and stood up.

Ibrahim gathered all the boxes and stood. "I... you, go hotel now."

Bea exhaled. Finally! She took her purse and started towards the door. The old man hurried to open the door for her. His eyes were on her feet. She stepped outside. A few storekeepers were opening their shops. The old man hurried to the passenger door of the van. He was still grinning, still looking her feet. It gave her the sensation of being naked. He opened the door. "Thank you."

"Welcome, pretty lady." The old man closed the door. "Thank you. Thank you. So pretty feet. So pretty."

Bea didn't know what to say. She was surprised no one was asking for money. She just nodded and smiled not really coming to the realisation that her feet had been defiled by an old man. She just wanted to get to the vacation house.

It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the highway. Ibrahim pointed out some nice views to the English lady but his mind was on money, money and sex. She had been a fairly good fuck last night. More than fair, she had been good. A good time. A slut like most English bitches, at least the ones he had come in contact with. Amand said the same thing. Ibrahim guessed she had been worth wiping the slate clean on the rest of the money his nephew owed him, it had only been half, seventy-five Euros. Yes, the English bitch had been worth it and it wasn't over yet. He'd make a little money and have a good time again too.

He glanced at her. She had a nice body, nice tits, very nice ass, and he was sure she had loved taking his big manly cock up her arsehole. He had fucked her only half the time, the other half she had been fucking his big rod with her slutty little hole, ramming her slutty bum to his groin. Her tight bumhole had felt good sliding up and down his thick girth. Yes, the bitch had been a good fuck. He smiled. His stupid nephew did pretty good for once, and the idiot had a decent idea about the party, like in the old days but better, making a few Euros in the process. It would be better because he now knew the men to invite, rich business men in town and the next couple of towns west, none of the fishermen.

Beatrice exhaled with relief when she saw the hotel a mile ahead. The van slowed and started turning into a grassy park. "No... no. Hotel. Hotel." Bea pointed ahead.

"Yes, yes." Ibrahim said. "We talk. Talk then hotel."

Her fear rose again. She looked around. It was still too early for anyone to be about. She imagined Uncle demanding fellatio. "What... why... why are we stopping? Talk... about what?"

Ibrahim stopped the van and switched off the engine. He looked at the pretty English woman. "You have good... fun, yes? Party fun?"

Her heartbeat quickened. She knew what he wanted to hear. She didn't want to admit it would be the truth. "Yes, fun.... the party was fun. Thank you. Now, will you please drive me to th..."

Ibrahim interrupted, "I... you, three nights." He made a rolling gesture with his hand. "Three nights, again, party. You have fun. Party. You... you get... money, you... I... get money." He rubbed his thumb and tip of his index finger together. "You pay vacation. Okay?"

Bea's brow pinched. "What? I... I don't want party." She didn't realise she was beginning to speak a pidgin version of the Queen's English. "No, party. No."

"Yes, lady. You, I..." He pointed back and forth between them. "... money for party. You get." He made the money sign with his thumb and finger again.

"You want me to pay for the ride? Taxi? Taxi money?"

Ibrahim's jaw clenched. He shook his head although he was tempted to take some cash from her, but he thought it would be best not to, maybe get her to trust him more. "No, no pay, you get money, three days." He rolled his hand in a circle again. "You come... party. Have fun. You, Amand, Melik. Fun... party. Get money."

"No... no party."

Ibrahim's eyes grew intense. "Yes, English lady. Party, yes. You like. Make money you get. You get money, for.. for come. You get money for come." He exhaled sharply. "Amand, you talk Amand. Okay?"

"Fine... yes, all right. I talk Amand."

"Yes, good." He started up the van and pulled out of the carpark. At the hotel he slowed to a stop at the front entrance. The English woman started to get out. "English lady. Present." He picked up all the boxes.

Bea exhaled. She thought about refusing it but it would just start another incomprehensible discussion. "All right, yes. Thank you." She took the boxes and wondered what else there was besides the spike heeled pumps.

He showed her three fingers. "Three days, you come. Party. Get money."

She still wasn't exactly sure what he was saying. She nodded. "Yes, yes. All right. Thank you for the ride."

"Yes. Three days."

Bea hurried out and quickly closed the door. She nearly trotted into the hotel lobby, glad she had showered. She suddenly wondered what was in the other boxes the old man had given Uncle. She then wondered what his name was again. It came to her. His name was Ibrahim.

She hurried through the lobby then onto the terrace. She walked the beach along the shoreline, on the wet sand so she could walk faster. At the house, she found a naked young man asleep on the large settee. She rushed up to her room, took another long hot shower then got into bed. Still refusing to really think about what had happened the night before. Her last thought was a vision of hot sticky cum oozing out from between her toes. She hadn't opened any of the other "presents."

*

Beatrice awoke with a start. Someone was pounding on her bedroom door. She thought it was morning, then she wasn't sure when she saw light around the window blinds. "What... who... who is it?!"

"It's Mags. Bea? What are you doing in there? We all thought you were still out partying."

"I'm... I've been sleeping."

"Well, you have a caller, a very handsome one. That pretty barboy, you know, Amand. He says he needs to talk you, he says it's very important, but he's very hush-hush about it. Won't tell me a thing. Is he who you were with last night?"

"No! I... I mean I wasn't with anyone last night."

Mags laughed. "Yes, neither was I, sweetie. So, come down and talk to your handsome local boy."

"I... I'm not feeling well."

"Want me to tell him to come up and make you feel better?" Mags tittered with a little laugh.

Bea thought it best not to make it into some big subject of conjecture by the other women.. "Oh... all right. Tell him I'll be right down. Maybe... maybe he has my cell. I've misplaced it."

"All right, honey. I'll tell him. Is he available by the by?"

Bea rubbed her face. "I... I don't know. Ask him."

Mags laughed. "I think I will."

"Do that." Bea's jaw clenched.

"I'll tell him you're coming down."

"Yes. Fine."

Amand watched Mags and some young man lying on towels down the beach. The guy could be himself from a distance. He was applying sun block to the backs of Mags' thighs. She wasn't a bad looking bitch for being forty-something, not as hot as Bea though. He smiled. Bea like the alphabet letter. Tourists ate up stupid sayings like that, especially English cunts. He wondered about English men for a few moments. It seemed their women were always starving for cock. Either the women were all insatiable sluts or they didn't get enough from their husbands. He had fucked a lot of English even some who had their husbands along on vacation. It was the same with his friends too. One of his friends said the bitch's husband watched him and another guy fuck her.

He knew Bea was craving cock. He had been sure of it, and last night proved it. He wondered what was keeping the bitch. Uncle Ibrahim had been really insistent about him talking to her today, not delay it until tomorrow. He had only been kidding around with his uncle about resurrecting the 'shows' his uncle had told him about, getting her to perform, make some money off it. His uncle had instantly liked the idea, started talking about getting some of the new rich company owners from the surrounding towns to come, charging a hefty fee for the show, not many, maybe ten guys or so. Ibrahim thought it was a great idea, even before he fucked Bea's arse.

Amand heard the patio door open. He turned around. He smiled. Bea had white cotton pants on, and a large long sleeved beige top. She was feeling guilty about the previous night. He had seen it before, but he knew in a day or two she'd be craving cock again. A lot of the shy ones were like her, not like Mags, who wanted it all the time and knew why she was on vacation in Turkey. "Hello, Bea, like the alphabet letter."

She slowly walked up to the beach chair. The young man didn't even stand up. Things had changed since yesterday. "What... what do you want?"

"Come. Sit. We need to talk for moment." He rolled the small digital camera in his palm. He reached over and patted the cushion of the chaise next to his. "Sit, Bea. Please." He smiled.

She stood by the chair. Her arms folded across her chest. "What... what's this important matter you wanted to tell me about?"

His jaw clenched as he smiled. He stood up and stepped around the other chair. He stroked her back. "Sit, please, Bea. It won't take long. How are you feeling? Bit of hangover?"

"I'm... I'm not feeling very well." She exhaled and then sat on the chaise.

Amand sat on the edge of the other lounging chair. "Maybe we drink just little too much last night, eh?"

"Yes, probably, most likely. I... I certainly wasn't... wasn't myself."

He smiled. "Oh, Bea, don't say that. You had good time, yes? It look like you did. I think you were a lot yourself."

Her stomach tensed. "What... what do you want?"

"Uncle Ibrahim wanted me to make sure you understood he was inviting you for a party, a party where... you will make money. Maybe money to help pay for your vacation here, yes? Did you understand him?"

"No, I didn't and... and I'm not going to a party."

"Your husband, he is with same company, same... corporation as Mags... Margaret's husband, yes?"

"What... what does that..." She blinked. Her stomach knotted.

"Uncle Ibrahim, me too, we want you to come to his bar in three days, and have fun, have party again with us, yes? We want that much, especially Uncle Ibrahim. He... we both think you are very beautiful young woman, Bea like the letter." Amand grinned.

"I... Thank you, but... but no. I... I won't be coming to the party."

"Oh... I think you will."

"No... no, I won't."

"Come closer. I want to show you something in my hand."

She felt breathless. "What... what do you mean? Sh... show me what?" She saw it was a camera. She had thought it was a cell phone.

"Some photos. Photos of you. Come... look." He turned on the digital camera, pressed a button then shaded the little screen with his palm. "Come look, Bea."

She noticed his tone was more an order than a suggestion. She wiggled to the edge of the chair and leaned towards him. She felt nauseous again. On the little screen was a shot of her in profile, definitely her face and body, naked, probably Melik holding her hair behind her head, his cock half buried in her mouth. She murmured, "Oh no."

He pressed the button again. "I like this one."

Her stomach knotted tighter. She was in a half doggy position, her shoulders on the mattress, her face towards the camera, her eyes closed, her mouth open, but there was a definite smile in on her open mouth.

"This one is very nice too." He waited for her to view it then hit the button again. "This one too." He waited a few moments. "This one also." He went through a half dozen more, then turned off the camera. He looked at her shocked face and smiled. "So, you will be coming to our little party in three days. It will be fun for you just like last night was. You'll even make some money if you're interested, but I told Uncle Ibrahim paying you to have fun would be... what's word, would be not polite, even... how to say... make you feel insult, yes? That you like to have fun just for fun." Amand hoped he could get her to refuse the money. Brits were proud about taking money, at least the rich ones.

Bea was breathless. Her mind was reeling. "Give... erase... erase those photos."

"Oh, I have them on computer already, but... you come to party, be... pretty and good sexy lady for party and... and rest of holiday here, and... you can watch me erase all these very nice, very hot sexy photos. I... I imagine you would not want your husband to get them in email, yes? That would be hard to explain, yes? So, I will be sure to keep them, how you say, under lock and key." He grinned, then looked at his watch. "So, in three days.... after I finish my shift at bar at nine o'clock, you be there and you and me and Melik will take his car to my Uncle's for more fun, yes?" He decided not to tell her about the show aspect, at least right now.

"I... I don't know. I..."

Amand's voice had a patronizing tone, "Oh, Bea." He stood up. "You know you are going to come. I know that, you know that. I must get to work now. So... cheers, my pretty English beauty rose." He grinned and started walking towards the hotel.

Bea was breathless again. She watched the handsome, evil, young man walking away.

Amand turned around but kept walking back peddling. "Come to bar tonight, I will buy you martini on the house." He grinned, waved and turned around. He laughed softly.

What have I gotten myself into?! She continued watching Amand walk away. Her pussy clenched as another memory surfaced in her mind. She was frantically grabbing his manly cock, guiding it into her vagina. No, she had been guiding it into her craving cunt. She had loved everything that happened to her the previous night, even Ibrahim taking her bum. Maybe that had been her biggest thrill. Her eyes shut tight. What have I become?! For godsakes, this can't be me! I'm not a cock craving, insatiable slut! This mustn't be ME!

In her heart, Beatrice knew it was true.

* * *

(comments/critiques/feedback welcome)

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