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When I was young and carefree, I travelled the world with a backpack on my back and hope in my pockets. I went to many places but one that has particularly stuck in my memory is Kusadasi, in Turkey. I had a wild time there and though I never told anyone before, the time has come to tell my secrets.
I was just 22 years old when I first set foot onto Turkish soil. Kusadasi port had a big banner welcoming tourists and immigration was swift and painless. No sooner had I cleared immigration than the hustlers circled me, everyone trying to push the others away, all of them talking at the top of their voices to attract my attention. ‘My hotel has swimming pool, bar, all facilities!’ ‘My hotel has air-conditioning!’ ‘My hotel has happy hour,’ they kept shouting. I selected a cheap hotel in the outskirts of town. Of course I did not know then how far it was from the centre as the man kept telling me it was only 5 minutes walk and told me that at least 8 times!
The room was adequate, but I had been cheated on the air-conditioning deal; it was just a fan on a pedestal! But at £5 a night including breakfast I should be pleased with myself. Plus the owners told me I could use the swimming pool of a nearby hotel, so not at all a bad deal altogether.
Kusadasi is a lovely seaside town. It has a beautiful market selling all sorts of spices and flavoured teas, jewellery, furniture, carpets, leather goods and antiques. There are plenty of restaurants, cafes and bars. The nights were filled with music, colourful lights from signs and an endless parade of people walking up and down the streets.
I fondly remember the dondurma guy (ice cream seller) at the corner selling the best mastic gum ice cream I have ever tasted! He had a trick that attracted customers. He’d serve your ice cream in a cone but as it was very cold, it stuck to the blade of the palette knife and as you reached for your cone he’d pull the ice cream back up and laugh at your disbelief. No matter how many times a night he performed this trick, there would always be a crowd of people enjoying his performance.
My first night there I discovered a little restaurant with just two large tables on the deck outside. The manager was very friendly and, as I could not make up my mind, he offered to make me a platter of this and that and threw in a huge pot of lovely yoghurt in the deal. I was so happy with their service that I never ate anywhere else.
After a satisfying dinner, I thought to check out the nightlife. I walked the streets looking into the different bars then someone from a carpet shop invited me to have some tea with them. Of course he tried the hard sell on me but all he got was genuine admiration for his wares but, unfortunately, I could never afford one of his handmade carpets. ‘Not even a small kilim?’ ‘No sorry!’
The guy shrugged his shoulders and offered to buy me a beer at the bar next door after he closed his shop. So we went and had a beer and a fun chat and then he walked me to my hotel as it was late at night and he was a gentleman. We started kissing in the garden and ended up in my room. I remember him offering to give me a back rub and me lying on the bed hugging my pillow moaning lightly as he pulled up my top and undid my bra. Then somehow I was half naked and he was kissing my back sending shivers down my spine. His 5 o’clock shadow had grown into respectable stubble, and I begged him to scratch my back with his face. The more he scratched, the more I screeched with pleasure! He got his cock out and began rubbing it on my back and neck, making an excellent contrast between the hardness of his stubble and the softness of his circumcised cock. I recall being so highly turned on that I had an orgasm without any direct stimulation of either my breasts or clit. He ejaculated on my back and rubbed it on my skin. Then he got up and left, leaving me with the memory of his black curly hair and sparkling eyes.
The next day the receptionist casually mentioned that visitors were not allowed in the guest rooms. I asked him how I could get to the beach and he told me I could hop on a dolmus (a shared taxi) and ask for Ladies Beach. And so I did. Ladies Beach is just outside Kusadasi; a narrow stretch of sand lying some feet below the road. It was mostly frequented by Turkish families, but I did not let that bother me. I found a good spot with my newly found friends, two guys from Austria, got undressed and began sunbathing topless. The guys wanted to play racket ball, so I played with both of them taking turns, my big breasts jiggling in the sun as I dived to save the ball. I knew there were a lot of eyes on me, but I did not care. Finally I felt tired and had to go sit down. A Turkish man approached me and offered to rub suntan oil on me. I accepted. When he was done with my back (eliciting quiet moans from me) I cheekily turned on my back and asked him to oil my front. The look on his face was priceless and he hurried to complete the task spilling half of the oil in the sand in his excitement. The Austrian boys were rather amused with the scene. ‘Oh we could have done that!’ they complained. But I sent them to get some drinks and food and they returned with a man that had fresh oysters in a basket. I had never had oysters before and was a bit afraid in case they were poisonous, but the guys reassured me that if the mollusc moved when you dripped some lemon on it, it was OK to eat.
So that afternoon I feasted on oysters that the seller kept opening up for me on the beach. The Austrian guys had to leave and said goodbye to me. Maybe they simply run out of money and were afraid of my insatiable desire for oysters, who knows! I swam a bit, sunbathed a bit more and, as the sun was coming down, I went to the road to catch myself a dolmus. But there were no taxis around and I was tired of waiting so I put out my thumb to hitch a ride. A big American car drew up and some men began waving to me and inviting me to join them. I happily got in the already crammed car feeling safe in the company of so many men (it is my theory that rapists act alone, not in groups). The car dropped its passengers off at different points and then the driver, a man in his mid forties with salt and pepper hair and a matching moustache, told me he owned a big shop on the promenade. I was very impressed as it was by far the biggest and poshest shop I had seen in Kusadasi. He offered to drive me to my hotel and asked if I had already been to Ephesus. As I had not been anywhere yet, he offered to take me there the following day.
That evening I dined at my favourite restaurant and met a couple of German university students who spoke mediocre English. The guys looked rather dark to be German and I always had the suspicion they were really Turks pretending to be foreign but did it really matter? They were fun and we went to the disco on Pigeon Island together. Then they escorted me to my hotel and we French-kissed goodnight. I would have happily invited them back to my room but a) they were too self-conscious of each other and b) they heard the receptionist say something in Turkish and decided it was safer for them to leave. Oh what a pity! It could have been nice to have had two men at the same time. Never mind!
Daybreak found me nice and fresh after a good night’s sleep. I knew I had a date to go to Ephesus later in the afternoon, so I decided the best way to spend my morning was to check out the swimming pool at the neighbouring hotel. It was a nice swimming pool and full of British tourists with their kids and their inflatable toys. I met a girl – let’s call her Cathy for the purposes of this story, as it would be inappropriate to reveal her identity even after all these years. She was a veteran holidaymaker in Turkey and had been to most resorts. She was travelling alone having recently split up from her boyfriend. She was a few years older than me, slim, about 5’8’’ tall, with lovely long brown hair and blue eyes. She spoke Turkish to the waiters and that impressed me no end, as I had always thought Turkish to be a difficult language. So we spent part of our time by the pool under the shade of the palm trees with her teaching me elementary Turkish. She was of the opinion that wherever you travelled, you had to pick up some of the language and thus honour the locals. I never forgot that and in my later travels, I made sure I could at least say good morning, please and thank you in people’s native tongue.
Cathy was fun to be with so we arranged to meet the following day and go to the beach. I returned to my hotel and had a quick shower and tidy up. My new Turkish friend arrived on time and drove me to Ephesus. Ephesus is an amazing archaeological site and he seemed very knowledgeable which made the experience so much better. Also he had been clever to choose taking me there in the afternoon when the sun was not so hot and the tourist crowds had already been and left. Walking amongst the ruins was very pleasant under these conditions.
We returned to my hotel and he tried to get me a better room but the receptionist said all the rooms were taken. He had a brief discussion and some money changed hands, then he came down to my room with me. He started kissing me passionately, his moustache tickling my face and making me laugh. ‘I want to have you,’ he said whilst fumbling with the buttons of my blouse to get to my breasts. I asked him if he had a condom but he did not and I said I could not have sex without a condom as I was not on the pill. He told me not to worry and spent a lot of time kissing every part of my body. He turned me to face the bed and bend me over the bed. He made me spread my legs and knelt on the floor to kiss my calves and thighs and buttocks. He was clearly a very experienced lover and I was shaking with desire as his fingers and tongue explored every inch of me. Then I felt something hard against my anus and realised what he was about to do. I had a brief moment of panic and I tried to struggle away but his arms pinned me down and his lips covered the back of my neck in kisses. ‘Don’t worry, you will like it,’ he promised.
And boy, did I like it! I remember kneeling over the edge of the bed, my breasts hanging low, my knees apart with him ramming his cock into my arsehole in a steady rhythm. I was frantically playing with my clit and had a loud orgasm before he came inside me. He warned me to clench my muscles and go use the toilet. As I sat in the bathroom emptying my bowels after this impromptu semen enema (which I must say had surprised me immensely as I had never expected to feel something enter me so deeply and cause such spasms of agony and joy), he cleaned himself up, gave me a kiss and left quietly saying he would ring me. Of course he never rang and I tried to ring him at his shop the following morning only to get his fiancé on the line. Arggh men! Why do they need to play around when they have a perfectly good wife/ fiancé /girlfriend at home?
That evening I went dancing with the waiter from the restaurant and promptly regretted it. He thought of himself as another John Travolta and totally embarrassed me in public by his displays of awkward dancing. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom and escaped through the back. When he next saw me and complained about me leaving him, I lied through my teeth and told him that I had gone back and could not see him so I had assumed he got bored and left, hence why I had left the disco. Well what would you have done in my shoes?!!
The following day I spent with Cathy. I told her about my two Turkish lovers and she was tickled pink with the details. Like any decent woman would have done, she joined me into bitching about the guy who fucked my ass and left me, saying things like ‘all men are pigs if you give them half a chance’ etc. I took Cathy to my favourite restaurant where we enjoyed a good meal and a cold beer on the deck. She drew my attention to two Scandinavian girls being treated by the owner of the bar next door. ‘See?’ she pointed out, ‘all they have to do is flash their wares and smile sweetly and they get things for free.’ The Finnish girls had their free drink and left. Then the man turned and looked at me as I had not taken my eyes off him whilst trying to analyse what my friend had said. Do I have the power to seduce him? I wondered. I smiled at him and he nodded his head in silent greeting. Then, after we were done with our dinner, he invited us over to his bar. Cathy was unsure about this, but I told her to relax and enjoy herself. I was quite sure I had understood the ‘smile and flash your wares’ maxim. We had a drink and a light chat with lots of jokes and laughter, then some guys inside asked why didn’t we join them to play a game. We went inside and the owner closed the bar and locked the door. He excused his action by saying it was illegal to play cards and stuff and did not want the police revoking his licence. He pointed to the key left at the keyhole and said we were free to leave at any time.
So we sat at the long table. Me on the edge with Cathy across me. Four men on our sides. They got a glass, a napkin and an elastic band. ‘This game is very simple,’ explained the owner. ‘We just cover the glass with a napkin, secure it with an elastic band, and rest a coin on top. Then we all try to burn the paper without dropping the coin. Before each turn you must drink alcohol, OK? Anyone drop the coin, must take one item of clothing off. Clear?’ We nodded and giggled. The glasses were filled with alcohol, a cigarette was lit and the game began. The first to lose an item of clothing was one of the men. He laughed and took off his shirt revealing his hairy torso. Then came the turn of another man. He also removed his T-shirt. His chest was not as hairy as the other guy’s. Third round and Cathy lost the coin. She wanted to take off her shoes but was told it was not clothes. She was only wearing a skirt, a blouse and underwear so she decided to go for the safest option. She reached inside her blouse and carefully removed her bra trying not to flash her bare flesh. However, this covert bra taking off action had a strange effect on me. I felt butterflies in my stomach and realised I was turned on. Suddenly I wanted to see her lose more clothes, I wanted to see her naked amongst us. I began taking risks with burning the napkin making the holes bigger and bigger, leaving her little chance to avoid dropping the coin as she came next after me. But the little minx managed to burn tiny holes and avoided taking any more clothes off. Instead the men began losing more and more of their clothes. Then my confidence betrayed me and I lost. Off came my skirt. Sitting on the bench with my knickers felt strangely erotic. Cathy was very careful still. The following round saw another man lose. By now they were all down to their underwear but as they wore socks they still had more chances than us. I lost again and I had to take my bra off. There I sat just with my cotton blouse delineating my erect nipples and my knickers. I was so horny I could have screamed! I wanted Cathy to lose her clothes; I so wanted that! It seemed to increase my excitement, the thought that her and I and all these men would be naked in a room together. I could envisage all sorts of scenarios. The drinks kept coming and the smoke (I am a non smoker) was adding to the dreamy atmosphere. My head was floating and I could barely focus my eyes beyond the cloud of smoke. I even began taking pleasure in the thought that the same cigarette that had been in everyone else’s mouth was in mine! Then Cathy lost. Cathy lost! ‘Off with your clothes! Off with your clothes!’ the men chanted and I joined in, my heart pounding with anticipation. But Cathy got up and instead of removing her clothes picked her bra up and called it a night. We were all very disappointed and she seemed very distressed. The owner gave her a cuddle and told her it was all right, it was just a bit of fun, nothing more. She did not have to go through with it. Cathy’s reaction sobered us up. There was little point continuing the game. We were invited to go to the disco. Cathy wanted to go to her hotel, so one of the guys offered to escort her. I got on the car with the other 3 and went dancing. But most of the time the guys were talking about Cathy, analysing her reaction. I got bored and asked them to take me home.
I never saw Cathy again. I called at her hotel but was told she had joined a group on a multi-day trip to Pammukale. There was no message for me.
My holiday was drawing to its end and I roamed the shops looking for souvenirs to take home. At one jewellery shop my eye got caught by a beautiful silver bracelet decorated with lapis lazuli stones. The work on the silver itself was worth paying a lot of money for. The shop assistant saw my interest and invited me in. He placed the bracelet on my wrist and complimented me on how well it suited my skin tone and how it made me look ten times more beautiful than I already was. But when he told me the price I realised I could never afford it. He dropped the price several times but it was still too expensive. I tried to explain to him that I was at the end of my holidays with very little money left and if I bought that, I would not have enough to buy my boat fare. ‘You are short of money?’ he asked and I nodded. Then he pulled me outside the shop and talked to me in a conspiratorial voice. He said I was a pretty girl and it saddened him to see such a pretty girl want something and not be able to get it. So he was prepared to give me some money. What was I prepared to give him in return? I did not quite catch his drift so eventually he told me he was willing to pay me for an hour of sex with him. I looked at him, then looked at the bracelet in the shop window. He was not bad looking. He seemed clean. But still... ‘I will give you 60 dollars,’ he offered. ‘100!’ I demanded. ‘No way, 60 dollars is fair price. Take it or leave it.’ ‘Will you use a condom?’ ‘Yes, of course, I am not stupid!’ I pondered for a while. Sixty dollars was not much - certainly not enough to buy my bracelet. I would have to dig in my pocket and supplement. Yet, there was a young man willing to pay me for sex. I felt intrigued. Surely he did not need to pay for sex, he was handsome enough and he had a good job, the girls must be all over him. Maybe he does not want complications, I thought. Maybe he prefers paying for sex and calling it a day rather than having to romance a girl for days on end to get to the same result. Sex for money. Well I had had sex in Kusadasi and the guys were only interested in a one-night stand. At least if I accepted his proposal, I would be the winner for once, I rationalised. I had never thought of myself as a bad girl and the idea of being paid for sex was highly titillating. So the deal was struck.
We walked to his apartment, which we reached, via an enclosed courtyard. Bathroom, small kitchen and a bed-sitting room. He asked me to undress and lie on the bed. The bed was unmade and I wondered how clean the sheets were. He began undressing himself in frenzy and jumped into the bed with me. No sooner had he began kissing me and telling me how much he desired me that we heard a screech and the door burst open. I never knew what hit me and it took me a while to realise what was happening. A very angry Turkish woman was bashing him on the head with her open hands and tearing his chest with her fingernails. ‘You bastard!’ she kept screaming at the top of her lungs. ‘You whore! I kill you both!’ she said turning to me. I pulled the bed sheets over me to cover my nakedness and ran to the bathroom. I locked the door, totally scared out of my wits. He kept trying to reason with her, but she screeched in broken English that he is unfaithful, that he always does this to her and she was engaged to him and this was her home but luckily his colleagues - may Allah bless them - alerted her to his shenanigans.
I don’t know how long I stood naked in that bathroom before the screaming ceased. I heard the bang of the front door and then a soft knock on the bathroom door. ‘I got your clothes,’ he said, ‘it is safe to come out now.’ I opened the door just enough to grab my clothes. I got dressed in a hurry and followed him back to the market. All along the streets I felt as if every pair of eyes was on me, accusing me of adultery and prostitution. We stopped walking short of the jewellery shop. ‘I am sorry,’ he said keeping his eyes down. ‘What about my money?’ I asked timidly. ‘Sorry hun, you should have asked for the money up front. First rule of prostitution!’ he sniggered. I felt so humiliated, so degraded and so angry with him, that I could have happily finished the job she had started by tearing his eyes out. But as it was, I learned a valuable lesson. No, it was not to ask for money up front - trust you to think of that, you perverts! The lesson I learned was that no matter how sweet Turkish delight might initially be, it always got in your teeth and left you with a sticky, dirty feeling. The only way to have it was with a glass of cold cleansing water.
Men are just like Turkish delight. One must have them with lots of water (love) to avoid the sticky, dirty feeling afterwards.
PS: I had to edit the story slightly as my English has improved.
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