My husband is a chief engineer in the petroleum industry. For the last ten years he has been working with a multinational oil company operating offshore production platforms in Tunisia. His job implies traveling to other neighboring countries such as Libya, Algeria and Egypt. One day he came back from work and told me that he had been invited to attend a major conference on risk management in Tripoli, Libya.

He would like me to go with him as the conference program included two social evenings for participants and their spouses. I welcomed his suggestion but expressed some concern about our four kids while being away from home. He reassured me that he would ask his mother to come to our place and look after them during our ten days' absence.

I spent the next day preparing for our trip like packing items we should take and also arranging things for my mother-in-law to see to my four children.

Our departure to Tripoli was scheduled for Friday morning from Sfax Airport at eight a.m. The flight would take over two hours. At Tripoli International Airport we were met by a young Libyan who introduced himself as the person assigned by his company to help us with hotel accommodation and take us around places we wish to visit during our stay in Libya.

His name is Hamad, good-looking, athletically built, probably in his early twenties. My husband and I followed our guide who carefully put our cases in the car boot and drove off to our hotel located on the coast of Tripoli. Hamad took care of filling out the forms when we checked in at the reception and insisted to see our hotel suite as he had to make sure that all facilities were available.

The suite consisted of a spacious bedroom with a king-size bed, a small sitting room, a bathroom, and a small guest room with a sea view. Everything seemed fine. Before he left, Hamad told us that he had instruction from his employer to take us for dinner at a French restaurant in town.

He would therefore be back to pick us up around eight that evening. To return the compliment my husband invited him to have dinner with us, which he accepted with great pleasure. Before leaving Hamad gave us his business card and told us to call if we needed anything. We thanked him for his help and assured him of our appreciation for his warm welcome.

To tell you the truth, my husband and I had met challenges in our sexual life for the last four years. Making love had become a rarity and when it happened it turned out to be a fiasco, particularly on my husband's side. As time went by my husband's sexual performance got poorer and my sexual drive increased tenfold.

The idea of visiting Tripoli at this point in time was to me a "puff of oxygen" that could extenuate my sexual frustration and it hopefully would be an opportunity to spice up our love as husband and wife. It might put an end to our isolation.

Hamad came on time and the three of us headed to the French Restaurant in town. It was dinner at candlelight with romantic music in the background. My husband sat next to me and Hamad faced me.

Hamad started telling us about his situation in Tripoli. He said that he studied sociology at the Tunis University, and he graduated a year ago. Soon after graduation, he returned to his native country Libya. He didn't have to wait long before he landed a job at the Public Relation department of an oil company based in Tripoli.

The pay was good, but he missed the pleasant lifestyle he used to have in Tunis while being a student. He felt bored as a young single adult in a country which is deeply conservative, and intolerant compared to Tunisia. My husband and I sympathized with Hamad and told him that he would be welcome any time to visit us and stay with us.

We also assured him that we have two sons, the eldest is probably two or three years younger than him, and two daughters, one is most likely the same age as he is. Hamad was delighted to hear that and promised to keep saving up for visits to us in Sfax, Tunisia.

We then left the restaurant and Hamad drove us back to our hotel. He also said that he would be taking my husband to the Company headquarters at eight and that he suggested he’d return to the hotel with the idea of taking me visit places of interest in the Greater Tripoli area if I wished. Benny and I welcomed the idea.

Hamad took leave and we both went into our suite as we both needed some rest and sleep after a busy and eventful day. I couldn't sleep right away. I kept thinking of Hamad and felt somehow that I was getting sexually attracted to him, but I tried hard to dismiss such feelings when I thought he was practically as old as my son Daly.

I tried hard to ignore these feelings, but they kept invading my heart and fancy even when I was asleep. To me it was sexual attraction and chemistry at first sight. There was no way I could share these thoughts with my husband. I knew he would be devastated. So, I decided to keep him in the dark and happy in his ignorance.

When I woke up in the morning, I found out that my feelings for Hamad intensified and my sensation of guilt at being sexually attracted to him vanished from my mind. It was like being reborn, wiping out all sentiments of faithfulness to my husband of twenty years, and feeling like a twenty-year-old housewife.

Hamad came to pick up my husband and suggested to return about lunchtime to take me to visit places of interest in and around Tripoli. I welcomed the idea with the consent of my husband.

I then started to make myself beautiful and sexy. I waxed my pubic hair and had a bath after spraying my body with Givenchy and Alien perfumes. I also chose my underwear with knickers that would make it easy to finger and caress my clitoris.

My breasts are so attractive that no male could resist being infatuated with them. I, therefore, put on bras that highlighted my cleavage. It would also allow any male to remove the sexy item and be greeted with my fully erect tits. All my selected underwear would pave the way for Hamad, I hope, to get attracted to my body and hopefully move forward in the direction of starting a sexual relationship.

I really wanted to enjoy my stay in Tripoli and maybe I’d have uninhibited fun for a few days as our children were home and we were away from any source of embarrassment.

I am a beautiful woman, curvaceous and willowy with long black hair and the most amazing fiery brown eyes that express every emotion, and every feeling I have.

I have a two-piece suit for wearing around our pool. It was a semi-sheer thong, just a triangle at the bottom held by three thin straps. The top was made of two see-through triangles of cloth, held by a single strap top and bottom. It was very revealing but only suitable for wearing around our very secluded pool. Hubby loved it.

I also brought my bikini in case I fancied a swim which was also bought for the occasion and just as sexy as any item I would like to wear when on holiday.

It was about an hour earlier that Hamad came over to pick me up for a tour. I opened the door, not thinking it was him.

“Put your clothes back on, you’ve got company.” Little did he know how close to the truth he was.

I quickly grabbed my shirt from the back of the chair, slipped it on over my skimpy little outfit, and did up two buttons in the middle. Without missing a beat, I smiled and invited Hamad to sit down and relax.

“You early aren’t you,” I commented.

“I came straight from work, thinking of having an extra hour with you,” he said.

“Do I look beautiful?” I ventured to ask.

“You look amazingly charming!” Hamad said.

"Do I look like a Libyan?” he asked...

I answered promptly, “Not at all! I thought you were French or Italian?”

“To tell you a little about my family background, my grandpa was married to a Swedish lady and therefore my father had mixed blood,” Hamad explained.

“In his turn, my father got married to a lady from the Netherlands and that perhaps explains why I look partly Middle eastern and partly Caucasian,” he added.

As I opened a couple of beers for us, Hamad brought me up to date on his job in Tripoli while his family was in Benghazi.

“I want to be closer to Tunisia as I often feel nostalgic about my best years there,” he explained.

“You must be feeling a great deal of stress being away from your former university mates and your soccer team players!” I commented.

However, it was his reply that started it all. He replied that, with the lack of entertainment he was having here, he hadn’t dated or had sex for three months, and THAT was causing him tremendous stress!!

“You know, I’m so horny I could bang a baboon’s bum bare-back!” he went on to say.

I had just taken a gulp of my drink, and the thought of Hamad and the baboon made me lose it, coughing and spluttering with mirth. Hamad grabbed a towel and helped me clean up, getting a real eyeful as he did so, as my oversize shirt I was wearing had gaped open, and he could clearly make out the curls of my pubic hair and the slit of my mound through the semi-sheer material of my thong panties. I quickly recovered my composure and pulled the shirt closed.

Hamad’s joke set the tone for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I started to tease him mercilessly about missing all the beautiful girls in Tunisia. I of course felt sorry for him and took his side in wishing to return to Tunisia.

Hamad, on the other hand, was enjoying my company immensely. He was giving as much as he got from me, and enjoying the attention he was getting from me, who kept the beers flowing.

I could see him catching a peek at me every time I leaned over the table, as the shirt would fall away from my body, and he could see my breasts through the transparent material of my bikini top. I seemed quite unaware of the effect I was having on him...

The conversation returned to Hamad’s sexual frustration, and I started making outlandish suggestions as to how Hamad could deal with it, each suggestion getting more and more hilarious. And that’s when Hamad dropped the bombshell. In amongst the ludicrous suggestions.

“Mimi, how about having for me for the night?” he jokingly asked.

“I promise to take real good care of you. You know, rreeeaaaalllll good care of you!!!” Then I laughed.

“Sure, no problem. All you have to do is convince my husband.” I laughed back at him.

I blushed, went from pink to red, to crimson. I laughed at how embarrassed I felt.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Dead serious, Mrs. B,” he confirmed.

I quickly exited to get more beers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that you look so damn sexy today, and I got a little carried away,” he seemed to apologize.

“No problem,” I said. “I know how horny you are, and that little swimsuit is just fucking unbelievable, isn’t it?” I added.

At that, he blushed too, as he realized that I had been watching him watch my body.

I returned, but I hadn’t brought any beers. Instead, I was carrying a tray with two whiskies. They looked like doubles. I carefully put the tray down and gave each of us a glass. I raised my glass to us both, took a pull at the neat spirit, and looked him squarely in the eye.

That’s when I saw the flash of fire in the emerald, brown eyes, and full of beer and big-mouth ego, I just let the warning slip by me.

“Hamad, you don’t have to say anything to my husband; we can do what we both like in full discretion,”” I said.

As I put down my glass, undid the two buttons holding my shirt, and let it slip to the floor, turning slowly towards Hamad as I did so.

As we are having this tete-a-tete conversation, the telephone rang. I went to answer the call. It was my husband telling me that due to work commitments, he would be staying the night at Briga, a Libyan oil city. I answered that he needn’t worry I’d find a way to keep myself entertained. Hamad heard what I said over the phone and appeared joyful.’

I picked up my glass and swallowed, stunned. There I stood, in the skimpy two-piece my husband had bought me for his own voyeuristic pleasure, my breasts clearly visible and my nipples hard and erect, the semi-transparent thong bottom strained tightly against my mound, showing everything. Hamad picked up his glass and drained it in two gulps, followed by a fit of coughing.

I picked up the towel, as Hamad had earlier in the day, and helped him to regain his composure, bending over him to slap him on the back and comfort him with my arm around his shoulders. He was finding it difficult to get it together, with the distraction of me bending over him, my breasts about ten inches from his face, and my naked bottom within touching distance. But he finally did calm down.

I straightened up, my arm still resting on his shoulders. I spoke to him as my eyes were looking him straight in the eye, with a smile on my face.

“Hamad, I know how horny you are, and I’d like to help. I’d love to have you fuck me,” I almost whispered in Hamad’s ears.

Hamad picked up my glass and drained it. I took his and drained it. Shit!

At that moment, the folly of my own actions finally hit me.

“We can do it as we have the afternoon and all night ahead of us,” I repeated.

I reached behind my neck and undid the bow holding my bikini top. I then undid the tie behind my back, and my top fluttered to the ground. My beautiful breasts showed the signs of my arousal, with my nipples standing very, very erect. I didn’t even flinch as Hamad, his eyes almost glazed over with lust and too far gone to care, reached behind me and cupped one naked buttock in his hand, while he stared at my breasts. I just continued to look deep into his eyes.

 “Okay, you can do it,” I said.

Hamad breathed an enormous sigh of blessed relief.

I blinked, just once as Hamad’s hand was pressing against my buttock and came round to his side of the table. I took both of his hands in mine.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked me.

“We’ll have fun!” I nodded my agreement.

I sat down in my seat at the table, as though completely oblivious of my nakedness in front of this randy young Libyan, who was staring at me in lust and wonder.

“Okay guy, this is the way it is. I’m going to take you inside now and fuck you because you need it so badly and because I can do this as a gift for my new Libyan acquaintance,” I spoke with a smile on the face.

“But you must agree right here and now that we must never, ever tell my husband or any of my children what we have done. Agreed?” I insisted.

 “No problem with me.  You have my word and total commitment for total discretion,” he answered.

“I’m glad you accepted,” I said with a smile showing joy and satisfaction.

By that time, we both felt hungry. I ordered room service for a wonderful meal at candlelight. Soon after, Hamad looked over at me, showing signs of uncertainty now about doing what we had agreed to do

 “Do not worry, Hamad! We’ll go for it. My husband is hundreds of miles away and we have all the time to enjoy ourselves” I re-assured him.

At that, I stood and led him by the hand into our suite bedroom.

“Hamad, you don’t have to return home this evening. We’ll be making love till dawn, my love!” I said.

“That’ll be fine, Mimi,” he answered.

His pulse racing, he waited for a few minutes at the table, to let his nerves settle and his erection get harder. What had I done? What were we doing? Hamad had just celebrated his twenty-second birthday, just the same age as my daughter, Pearls! How could I authorize myself to be fucked by a young boy who could easily be my son???

I was naked in our bed. I could feel the heat of my pussy as it rested so close to Hamad’s cock. My nipples were hard as they pressed into his chest. Normally my husband would reach between his legs and slip inside me, trying vainly to satisfy my need. Tonight, it is different. Another man had aroused tonight.

I ended up in Hamad’s lap. Next, I watched him caress my little body through the skimpy dress I was wearing. We shared a few sensual kisses. Now I was in bed, and I know I wasn’t thinking about my husband. I know my pussy was wet not because of him, but because of my young Libyan. And I know my nipples were hard because of him. I know his cock was hard and twice as big as my husband’s because he was sharing my bed in the absence of my hubby. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t.

You know at that moment that I wanted it. I didn’t say no. But I didn’t try and deny my desire. I just asked if he was sure.

“Yes,” he said.

His cock throbbed as his flesh touched mine. We were both moaning between kisses. It was dark in the hallway, and I felt confident enough to do what I had never dared to do in years. My young lover was naked, and my soft, delicate fingers were wrapped around his cock. I was stroking him slowly as we kissed. His fingers moved between my legs and gently slipped inside me. I moaned into his mouth.

I’m not sure why this turned me on so much, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't look away. I wanted to straddle him and sit on his cock. But I soon remembered it was my fertile period and his coming inside me would most likely fertilize my egg. But I soon dismissed the thought and whispered to myself to let him shoot his load of sperm inside my womb. I did, however, think I would warn him.

“This is my fertile period, and you may end up giving me a child,” I said.

“I’ll be glad to have you pregnant, Mrs. B,” he said in full confidence.

I broke the kiss and started stroking Hamad’s cock as I held his gaze. The romantic connection between us was profoundly arousing. The sight of a beautiful married woman stroking someone else’s cock would drive my husband crazy with lust.

I kissed down Hamad’s chest and stomach. I was going to take his penis into my mouth. I was going to offer my Libyan a blowjob. I was just in what was meant to be my husband’s bed. I was just on top of him. My pussy was inches from Hamad’s nine inches long cock. I was having what I truly wanted and now I was going to take it.

My lips wrapped around his cock, and I took the head into my mouth. Hamad moaned and I understood why. My husband had never experienced my mouth in the last four years, He would have loved like Heaven as Hamad had just experienced it. I truly possessed the incredible oral talent and now Hamad was getting to experience it.

I was making love to him with my mouth. The sight of my head bobbing up and down between his legs would have made my husband’s cock ache. Hamad’s cock slipped from my mouth, and I wrapped my fingers around him and stroke it. I straddled him and guided his cock between my pussy lips. There was no condom.

His hands moved over my ass, hips, and back as I slowly sank onto his cock. We moaned together as he filled me. I arched my back and gently tilted my head towards the ceiling. I rode him.

I’d never experienced anything more beautiful. I was slowly riding Hamad’s cock. My husband would have felt intensely jealous and wildly aroused had he witnessed me having such incredible ecstasy. My hunger for sex and Hamad’s thirst for penetrating a woman and shooting his seed inside her had led to an explosion on both sides. I couldn’t stop my screams and I bet other people in the adjoining room couldn’t miss my sighs and screams.

His hands moved over my body just like my husband once upon a time had done. Hamad played with my perky breasts. Then, he squeezed my ass. He pulled my lips to his for long, slow kisses while his cock pumped in and out of my pussy. He moaned when it felt particularly good.

I was getting close. I could see it and hear it. And I know how I moaned when I was about to cum. It was going to happen. Another man, not my hubby, was going to make me cum.

There it was. I stopped riding him and threw my head back. Then, I moaned louder. I couldn’t help it. I was cumming. I was experiencing pure bliss and it was someone else’s cock that was responsible. I’d never been so aroused and so pleasured.

I leaned forward and kissed him. Our tongues mingled as his hands moved over my body again. I knew he hadn’t cum yet and I knew I was not going to leave until he got to experience the same orgasmic bliss.

I whispered something in his ear and then moved to my hands and knees.

My eyes closed and I bit my lower lip as he slid into me from behind. After that, he leaned forward and kissed her back while thrusting inside me. His hands found my breasts and he squeezed them gently as I moaned for him.

He thrust harder and faster into me. He played with my breasts as my mouth opened and a steady stream of low, lusty moans escaped. He was getting closer. I was sure of it.

Hamad didn’t pull out. He buried his cock in my pussy and released his load. I could see the look on his face. That’s how a man looks when he’s cumming, and he’s cumming inside me...I liked it.

And I liked that he was cumming inside me.  Also, I liked that my young Libyan just filled me with his seed and that he most likely made me pregnant!

He pulled out and we collapsed into the bed together. I pulled the comforter over our bodies and snuggled against him. We both fell asleep.