Chapter 1

I sought out many of my sex adventures. I many cases I “choreographed” them.by staging fantasy scenarios, particularly with multiple partners or exotic partners.

I would contact men on the internet and we would discuss meetings with a theme, usually group sex involving me as “an innocent abroad” or simply a willing victim.

What has added excitement to some of these is the intervention of happenstance. I have turned up at a prearranged venue before the arrival of the planned players and mistakenly chatted up individuals or groups who have exploited the situation. In some cases, events have developed their own dynamic such as being accidentally visiting or being taken to a “dogging site”

Some, like “Tangiers”; just happened.

After my adventure in the summer, my parents (who knew nothing of my activities) booked a bargain holiday in the Costa del Sol during the half term school break. We visited the Alhambra and other tourist attractions but I spotted a day trip to Tangiers.

“Uncover the alluring mystery of Morocco on an immersive full-day trip to Tangier from Costa del Sol. Cruise over the Strait of Gibraltar and enjoy incredible ocean views before arriving amid the exotic scents and sights of Tangier. With a knowledgeable guide, stroll around bustling medinas and souks; feast upon the explosive flavours of an authentic Moroccan lunch; and purchase bespoke souvenirs at a Tangier bazaar. Enjoy the convenience of round-trip transportation from Costa del Sol. Full-day tour to Tangier, Morocco, from Costa del Sol, Spain Admire views of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean on the ferry ride across the Strait of Gibraltar Enjoy a panoramic bus tour of Tangier Walk around the medina and go shopping in Tangier’s bazaar Have a traditional Moroccan lunch at a local restaurant (included)”

My mother didn’t want to go describing it as a “dirty, crowded place with souvenir hawkers and rug pedlars everywhere.”

My father made further enquiries and established there was a guide with the group and plenty of others on the trip. It was agreed I could go without them The crossing by ferry was enjoyable and I got to talking to a group of English sixth form boys on a different excursion. Some of the boys wanted me to join their trip and I was tempted but one of their teachers overheard and scrubbed that as an idea.

We were due to visit the Casbah museum and our group entered a rabbit warren of tiny alleys following the streamer bedecked brolly held aloft by the guide who had given strict instruction to stay with the group.

A predicted by my mother, gangs of children selling watches, and jewellery and pedlars of rugs and clothing swarmed around us, urging us to buy.

I quickly discovered that I should have worn a longer skirt and a top with fewer gaps for questing hands, Lacy underwear, highly decorated boxes. Bottles of water and Pepsi were held in front of my face, while a dozen or more voices rang in my ears and hands roamed over my body.

Many of the men wore the typical Djellaba, some with hoods hiding their faces and grouped around me so close, it was impossible to see who was doing what.

A hand reached inside my to fondling my breast while another slipped inside my panties fondling my buttocks.

I quickly stepped away and a small chubby man said, “Step into the shop out of the mob.”

I stepped through into the darkness of the shop and realised too late that the mob; consisting of a number of men of all ages including boys; had followed me in.

I realised that my clothes were disappearing and I was being propelled deeper into the shop. My progress was halted by one of several stacks of rugs spaced around the shop and I fell backwards clutching; and being gripped by a leather skinned, bushy bearded guy with his nightshirt up around his waist and his black cock erect and halfway in my bare pussy. It slammed fully home when my back hit the rugs.

I lay beneath his humping hips until he gave a strangled cry of completion and he was pulled away for fresh meat to penetrate me.

This was repeated two or three times before the men; I think there must have been at least a dozen of them; began to organise the distribution of my body.

A nice-looking teenager now filled my vagina while the tubby shopkeeper plundered my mouth having locked the door. Some anonymous person was grunting as he filled my ass and bowels.

As the initial rush slowed down, the elderly and very young took their turns An hour after entering the shop, I was standing naked, legs spread wide in a tiny yard at the rear of the shop; washing my privates with water dribbling from an old faucet set into the outside wall. The shopkeeper sat watching me with a big grin across his face as he puffed on an exotic looking cigarette with a gold-coloured filter.

Outside the shop, narrow little alleys ran in all directions and I stared along them to divine where my trip and guide had gone.

Although there was little to differentiate one alley from another. I picked one and took a few steps when I was called “Hey Missee!”

I turned to see a raggedy man bearing a long stick and bandage over his eyes accompanied by a thin, grubby lad about my age.

I paused and waited while the strange pair approached.

Warily I asked what it was they wanted; half expecting the appearance of scarves or watches or something for sale.

“You are lost Missee!” said the boy.

I looked around cautiously and examined the small map on the tour leaflet. Only 2 or 3 streets were shown as having names on the map while looking around, I could see some streets had rectangular wooden plates with what I assumed to be Arabic script. I normally have a good sense of direction but realised I wasn’t even sure which of the twisty little alleys had brought me to this point. Worse; the sun was in the worst possible position – directly overhead.

“Are you able to show me how to join my companions on the tour or at least how to get back to the harbour?” I asked.

There was a brief exchange in “jabberwocky” between the two and the boy turned to me and said “Yes Missee. We can guide you but there would be cost.”. I rolled my eyes and asked “How much? I don’t have much cash on me.”

My purse had been taken when I was stripped in the shop but my mother was supremely knowledgeable and had sewn a small pocket inside the waistband of my jeans and shorts before we left home and I had about twenty pounds concealed on me.

“No money! Missee. Just a little of your time in private. We were locked out of the shop”