Serenity Haven

Tom and Linda arrived at their stay at "Serenity Haven" just as the afternoon sun began to dip below the rooftops of Marrakech. After hours of navigating the chaotic streets and dodging scooters, they finally stood in front of the riad’s large, wooden door, eager to unwind.

As the door creaked open, they were greeted by the lush, cool courtyard. But it wasn’t the greenery or the ornate tiles that caught their attention—it was a woman.

She was hard to miss. She was thick and voluptuous, her curves almost too much for the tight outfit she wore. Her white blouse was snug, straining against her ample chest, which hung heavy and full, the deep V-neckline showing off an impressive amount of cleavage. Her breasts were drop-shaped, swaying and wobbling dangerously with each step, as if they might spill out of her top at any moment. Her white skirt was short and clung to her hips, hugging every curve and swaying slightly as she moved. The golden hijab she wore seemed out of place with the rest of her outfit, especially with the way her nipples pushed against the fabric of her blouse, creating obvious pokies that were impossible to ignore.

Linda’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing her face as she took in the sight of this woman, who was most likely their hostess. This wasn’t what she had expected from a Muslim woman in Marrakech. Weren't they modest, reserved, hidden away behind layers of fabric. This ... woman was running around like the average latina on a night out and that contradiction unsettled Linda more than she cared to admit.

As the hostess moved toward them, her body jiggling slightly with each stride, Linda found herself instinctively pulling her cardigan tighter around her own body. There was something about the way this exotic woman moved—swiftly, with casual routine—that made her physical attributes all the more noticeable. Her hips swayed naturally, her thick thighs brushing against each other with a faint swish, and her heavy breasts bobbed with her movements, barely contained by the fabric.

Then the stunning woman opened her mouth and said with a warm voice:

“مرحبًا بكم في ملاذ السكينة!أنا أمينة، وسأكون مضيفتكم خلال إقامتكم.دعوني أقدم لكم بعض المعلومات الأساسية لمساعدتكم في الاستقرار.يتم تقديم الإفطار كل صباح من الساعة8إلى10في منطقة تناول الطعام.نقدم وجبة إفطار قارية تشمل المخبوزات الطازجة، الفواكه، والتخصصات المحلية.إنها طريقة رائعة لبدء يومكم!إذا كنتم مهتمين بالتجول، أنتم في موقع رائع.سوق جامع الفناء على بُعد مسافة قصيرة سيرًا على الأقدام ويقدم مزيجًا نابضًا من الطعام الشارعي، الترفيه، والتسوق.كما أن حديقة ماجوريل قريبة أيضًا؛ إنها حديقة جميلة صممها إيف سان لوران ومثالية لقضاء فترة بعد الظهر في الاسترخاء.إذا كنتم بحاجة إلى أي توصيات بخصوص الطعام أو الجولات، لا تترددوا في السؤال.أنا هنا للمساعدة في الحجز أو تقديم الإرشادات لضمان أن تكون زيارتكم لا تُنسى.الآن، دعوني أريكم غرفتكما.أتمنى أن تستمتعوا بإقامتكم.إذا احتجتم إلى أي شيء على الإطلاق، فقط أخبروني. ”

Linda and Tom blinked sheepishly. "I'm sorry," Lina said. "don't you speak english?"

The woman looked irritated for a second, then smiled: "English, yes. I'm Amina, your hostess," she said, in a thick accent. She flashed them a broad white smile, her lips full and dark contrasted with her warm honey-colored skin.

Tom suddenly felt out of place with his worn-out t-shirt and his belly hanging over his belt. He wasn’t used to being around a woman like Amina. He was middle-aged, with a receding hairline and a belly that hung slightly over his belt. His clothes were practical and a little too snug in places they shouldn’t be, and he moved with the kind of clumsiness typical for people who only work in the office all day. When Amina extended her hand to him, her fingers tipped with long, glossy white nails, he hesitated before shaking it, his grip awkward and unsure.

“Uh, hi, nice to meet you, Amina,” Tom managed, feeling his face heat up. His eyes darted quickly to the deep cleavage on display before he quickly looked away, trying not to stare.

Linda watched this interaction, her irritation growing. There was something about the way Amina looked at Tom, the way her smile lingered a little too long, that set Linda on edge. She was aware of her own plainness compared to Amina’s overflowing sexuality, and it gnawed at her. Linda had always been practical and down-to-earth, plus she had never been popular with the boys, back in College, and married the first guy who proposed to her - Tom. Now standing next to Amina made her feel drab and invisible once more.

“I hope you like this place,” the breathtaking hostess said, her gaze shifting to Linda, who **** a tight smile in return. “I will show room to you.”

Tom found himself staring at the way her skirt rode up slightly with each step, revealing the curve of her thick thighs. Her fat butt jiggled like jell-O, and made everything she did seem sexual, almost like she was putting on a show without even trying. She must eat tons of falafel to acquire such a critical mass, Tom thought mesmerized by the jiggle.

The couple followed her down a narrow corridor, the sound of Amina’s golden heels clicking against the tile floor echoing in the quiet space. Tom tried to distract himself with the intricate details of the riad, the colorful tiles and the scent of jasmine in the air, but his eyes kept drifting back to Amina's fat falafel butt, who seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

As they arrived at their room, their hostess straight out of Arabian Nights bent down unneccessarily deep to pick up the room key from under the doormat. Tom and Linda couldn’t help but watch her short skirt riding up high enough to almost reveal her butt cheeks. For an insane moment Linda believed she could smell the damp scent of Aminas hormones coming from under that skirt, while Tom felt his balls twitch in pain. It was a brief moment, but one that lingered in both their minds as she straightened up, key in hand, and continued to lead the way.

“هذه هي غرفتك.أتمنى أن تعجبك,”

Amina said, opening the door with a twist of her wrist, "Your room. Good?" Her arm brushed against her chest in a way that made Tom involuntarily shoot a load into his checkered boxers. The hostess stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

“Thank you,” Linda said, trying to sound polite, though her voice came out a bit strained. She couldn’t help but notice how Amina’s blouse stretched taut across her chest, the fabric barely containing her soft tits. It is a miracle nothing has popped out yet, Linda thought resentfully.

Tom, on the other hand, was struggling to keep his eyes on anything but Amina’s body. He felt like a schoolboy caught staring at the teacher’s cleavage, and the guilt was starting to eat at him. But it was hard not to look—Amina's body was like a magnet, drawing his eyes back to her again and again. She must be an amazing belly dancer, he thought.

“If you need help,” Amina said, “let me know. I’m always here. I will cook dinner now.” She gave Tom a wink that made his balls ache, then turned and bounced away, her butt jiggling with each step.

Tom and Linda stood in the doorway, watching her retreat. Tom finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, while Linda shut the door a little too forcefully, "Maybe she should just make herself a salad and take a cold shower," she muttered under her breath.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Linda unpacked their bags, trying to shake off the image of Aminas huge boobs, while she put her small plain bras into one of the drawers. Tom couldn’t get Amina out of his head—the way she moved, the way her clothes seemed like they could burst open at any moment. He felt guilty, but also a little excited in a way he hadn’t felt in years, he had been sporting an erection for two hours straight now and his boxers were dripping wet - he felt like being 17 again.

Linda, on the other hand, was simmering with a mix of emotions she didn’t fully understand. She hated how Amina made her feel—so plain, so unremarkable in comparison. But there was also a strange thrill in it, like she was drawn to the very thing that made her uncomfortable. The cultural differences only added to her feelings. She couldn’t help but think about the contradictions in Amina’s appearance and behavior—the way she flaunted her body despite wearing a hijab. It confused her and made her resentful, bringing up all the stereotypes and prejudices she’d grown up with in suburban America. Arab women were supposed to be modest, hidden away, but Amina was the complete opposite, and that both fascinated and unsettled Linda.

That evening, after exploring the city, they returned to the riad. As they stepped into the courtyard, there she was, lounging on a cushioned bench with a teapot and delicate cups set out before her. Her outfit had changed, but it was just as revealing as before—a low-cut top that barely covered her abundant chest and tight leggings with an obscenely bulging cameltoe. Tom couldn't help wondering if these muslim women shaved down there, like the girls these days seem to do.

“You want tea?” Amina asked, her eyes locking onto Tom’s as she spoke.

Tom felt his pulse quicken. “Sure,” he said, his voice sounding more eager than he intended.

أنا متأكد من أنك تريدني أن ألعق قضيبك أيضاً أيها الحمار الأمريكي السمين.

Tom smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, what did you say?" Amina tapped her forhead as if she had forgotten, "I asked if you had nice evening in the city."

Linda shot Tom a jealous look but said nothing, sitting down beside him as Amina poured them each a cup of tea. The conversation was just small talk, but Tom could hardly focus on the words. Amina’s presence was overwhelming—her scent, the way her fingers played with the handle of the teacup, the way her naked foot brushed against his leg under the table.

Linda noticed it all, her feelings a twisted mess of jealousy, frustration, and something else she couldn’t quite name. Didn't these woman have overly jealous husbands at home keeping them on a short leash? She watched as Amina leaned forward, her boobs threatening to spill out of her top, her lips curving into a sultry smile as she laughed at something Tom said. It should have made Linda angry, and it did, but it also made her feel something else—a strange, uncomfortable excitement. She found herself comparing, contrasting, measuring her own life against this woman who embodied everything Linda wasn’t—and everything she had been told to look down upon. It was a struggle to reconcile the two, but she couldn’t deny the pull she felt, the curiosity that edged closer to fascination.

Tom, meanwhile, was completely out of his depth. He wasn’t used to being the focus of a woman like Amina, and it showed. He fumbled with his teacup, his words coming out clumsy and unsure. Amina didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she seemed to enjoy it, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she continued to flirt with him, her body language inviting him to look, to want more.

As the night wore on, Linda found herself watching the interaction with a mix of emotions. She should have been furious, but instead, she felt a strange satisfaction in watching Amina toy with Tom. There was something intoxicating about it, something that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

Finally, with a polite yet firm tone, Linda decided to bring the evening to a close. “Amina, thank you for everything tonight. We really need to get some rest now, as we want to be up early for the market.”

Tom nodded in agreement, his voice strained but earnest. “Yes, we appreciate all your help. We need to get some sleep.”

نعم، لقد حان الوقت لك ولزوجتك القبيحة للذهاب إلى الفراش. ربما يجب عليك أن تطلب منها أن تعطيك جنساً يدوياً، حتى تتمكن من إجراء محادثة طبيعية، أيها المنحرف الشبق.

Tom and Linda exchanged a look of mild exasperation. Amina laughed once more, playfully tapping her forehead to acknowledge her momentary lapse, and said: "I said, Rest well, and I hope you have a wonderful time at the market tomorrow. If you need anything, just let me know.”