Turkey (and Istanbul) have been often in the news of late. Each mention brings back some strong memories for me. Memories that had been, if not forgotten, deeply archived. This is the conclusion to part 1 which you can find here.
After 15 or 20 minutes we began to stir. We were hungry. And we wanted to explore a little while there was still light.
We exited our dump of a hotel into the the cacophony of the busy street. Automobiles, taxis, trucks, motorcycles, vendors and hawkers with bicycle carts, and dolmuses everywhere. And pedestrians overcrowding the narrow sidewalks onto the streets.
We had an idea of our direction … we wanted to experience the famous Puddin’ Shop and so meandered through roundabout streets to wend our way there. It was a bit of a disappointment if I remember correctly. Mostly filled with Western wanderers like ourselves, it was hot and overcrowded. The famous bulletin board was difficult to approach. We ate … the soup we had and the honeyed dessert we gobbled were delicious I recall.
Curiosity and hunger sated we began our stroll back to the hotel with a bit of light sightseeing on the way. It was mid afternoon as we walked into the cramped, dusty hotel entrance. We nodded to the desk clerk as we headed up the two flights of stairs to our floor.
As we approached our hotel room door we knew something wasn’t right. The door was slightly ajar! I pushed it fully open … the flimsy lock had been smashed … clothes were strewn about, kits opened, the room trashed.
We looked at each other aghast. Who the hell would want to rob us? There certainly was nothing of value to steal from us, apart from our down sleeping bags. Travel experienced, we, of course, had left no valuables in the room. We carried our passports, cash, and traveller’s cheques, and small camera on us. Unquestionably, our would be robbers had come to the same conclusion.
But I was enraged! This dump of a hotel was small, and nothing like this could happen without notice being taken. I flung myself down the stairway to the front desk. The clerk looked up at me, nonchalantly.
“Yes?” he asked.
I ranted on about the break-in … how it could not happen without someone hearing … what had he seen or heard … who was responsible for this …
He looked at me blankly, nodding his head slowly very occasionally. My fury deepened at the lack of response. Further infuriating was the fact that my rage coupled with my size didn’t faze him in the least. I didn’t intimidate him at all. Clearly he was experienced with this sort of thing. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. My angry, frustrated lizard-brain wanted to grab him and shake him out of his inertia. Fortunately, my intelligent side restrained me. I stepped back from the counter and calmed myself.
I hurriedly flew back up the stairs to our room. By this time she had repacked much of our gear into our packs.
“We’re leaving” I said.
“What happened down there? What did the clerk say?”
“Absolutely nothing!” I stammered. “He just shrugged it off.”
“Yes, lets go” she said. “The door’s lock is broken and there’s no way I’m ever going to sleep here.”
After scooping up the last few items remaining, we shouldered our packs and marched out. Across the small square and a few narrow streets over, we checked into another hotel we had previously seen. Though 50% more expensive than the “dump”, it was miles above in class and we hoped, safety.
In the room we put down our packs. Then I hugged her. Tightly. This woman meant more to me at that point in time than any other person in the world.
I undressed her. I guided her to the bed, on all fours. Then I undressed. Her pussy was sopping wet. My cock was rock hard. Fear and tension, excitement and celebration … all had always made us crave each other’s bodies like ravenous fiends. This was no exception.
Wild, connected, deep.
It was probably the final time we ever were so close.