Fertile Crescent

By James Orr

The Fertile Crescent, nicknamed "The Cradle of Civilization" due to the birth of various kingdoms within its borders, is a crescent-shaped region containing the comparatively moist and fertile land of otherwise arid and semi-arid Western Asia, and the Nile Valley and Delta of North East Africa.
Jordan is part of the Fertile Crescent.
Jamie travels to Aqaba and the Dead Sea where he finds the Jordanians very accommodating……

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781471775697

Book preview

Fertile Crescent

Fertile Crescent

by

James Orr

LEGAL NOTICE

Fertile Crescent

James Orr

Text by James Orr, Copyright ©2012

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publishers and/or author.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein.

Book design by Sabaijai Designs

ISBN: 978-1-4717-7569-7

For Sam

The Fertile Crescent, nicknamed The Cradle of Civilization due to the birth of various kingdoms within its borders, is a crescent-shaped region containing the comparatively moist and fertile land of otherwise arid and semi-arid Western Asia, and the Nile Valley and Delta of North East Africa.

Jordan is part of the Fertile Crescent.

Chapter 1

With a slight bump the plane touched down, a full hour behind schedule. Hurtling down the runway in a maddening rush it gradually lost speed, slowing down before taking the U-turn at the end of the runway, and then ambled its way towards the distant terminal building.

Peering out of the window, into the bright and sunny Saturday morning, I felt a surge of joy fill my heart; we were in Aqaba, the first leg of our journey to Jordan. My lips curled in a smile, I was very happy, no, excited,

The plane had come to a complete halt by now and I felt the light thump as the airbridge came in contact with the fuselage. Passengers were already standing up and taking out their hand baggage from the overhead lockers, jostling to be the first one out of the craft and on their way to their hotel or even home. A few had already switched on their mobile phones and were calling home, announcing their arrival. I sat patiently, I was in no rush.

I eventually followed my friends, Paul and Jerry, down the aisle to the front door. Stepping out onto the airbridge we followed the people ahead, walking down long, glass panelled corridors that looked into departure lounges and then going down the escalator, lost in our own happy thoughts.

In the baggage reclaim area the scene was chaotic. The large hall was teeming with people, and confusion reigned as irate passengers jostled and shoved, each voice louder than the previous, everyone scrambling to get their bags.

We stood, wide-eyed, totally taken aback.

The harried staff members were desperately trying to pacify the crowd, repeatedly telling them that it was beyond their control that the conveyor belts were not working.

After clearing customs we headed outside in search for our transport to our hotel.

There he is, shouted Paul as he pointed to a sign with our three names on it.

Standing proudly holding a Movenpick sign was Abdul. He greeted us warmly and in no time we were leaving the airport in a minibus.

As we travelled I read out aloud what we were heading for.

Aqaba's finest hotel was situated in the centre of Aqaba, next door to the Royal Yacht Club. The resort overlooked the Red Sea and had direct access to its own private beach, and had all the facilities you would expect of a 5 star hotel.

The Resort featured a Health Club with gym and aerobics, sauna, whirlpool, massage, 4 pools, Jacuzzis, private beach, sunset cruises and many other activities.

The young lady on reception was very courteous, the plastic smile pasted permanently on her pretty face. The area was a sea of calm compared to what we had witnessed at the airport. Gigantic floral displays bedecked the ornate tables; selected blooms were artistically manipulated into works of art.

I had to make a comment, Who does your flower arrangements? I asked.

We have a Thai lady who does them.

They are magnificent, I said.

Thank you.

She pushed a loud bell on the counter top making us all jump.

Within seconds we were joined by a bellboy. Resplendent in his livery of maroon and gold, he looked stunning.

Ashraf, at your service, he said.

He looked no more than seventeen.

Hello Ashraf, we all replied in unison.

I will bring your bags to your rooms, please, he said and used his arm to point us to the lifts.

The corridor was deathly silent when I got out of the lift on my floor. The other two had already exited to floors below.

Slowly followed the arrows pointing to where my room was.

Inserting the plastic I waited patiently for the green light to show. A red light appeared.  Blast, why can’t they us proper keys? Several attempts followed until I finally got the green light.

The room was smashing, elegant, cool and quality finishes.

I threw my cabin on the large, king sized bed. It bounced twice.

Closing the door I flipped on the television and surfing through the channels heard the same news over and over again. Weary after the long flight, I wasn't feeling hungry, but knew that I had to eat something.

We planned to go out in the evening and visit the bazaars and have a walk around the place. But that was hours to wait. I decided would have some room service. Glancing around me I found the menu and placed it on the bed.

Moving to the window I pulled aside the sheer curtains and peered out to the gardens and street below. Cars and trucks moved past quickly.

I jumped when there was a knock at the door.

It was Ashraf with my suitcase.

He bounded into the room and plonked my heavy case onto a low cabinet. He made it look so easy. Strong lad.

Is this your first time in Jordan? he asked as I fished in my pockets to find a tip

No, I have been to Amman before, I replied.

But this is your first time in Aqaba, sir?

Yes it is.

Maybe after you have had a shower I can come back and tell you what to see in Aqaba, he suggested.

That would be nice, Ashraf.

He closed the door slowly behind him, smiling as he did.

I opened my suitcase and hung up my creased clothes, drinking a coffee as I did. In the bathroom I filed my toiletries in a straight line.

That was it, I could do nothing else, but feeling much better and relieved, and for the lack of having anything better to do, I decided on taking a bath, and maybe order some food.

Stripping off my clothes I entered the bathroom and set the bathtub to fill before walking back into the room to look at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I smiled to myself as my fingers twirled and played with the single, unruly lock of curly hair that constantly fell on my forehead, giving me that cute, boyish charm, and then peered closely into the mirror checking the tiny spot that had suddenly, and most annoyingly, appeared on my left cheek.

Maybe it was the lack of proper sleep or maybe the food on the flight. Sighing softly I turned away and headed back to the bathroom.

The foaming water felt nice and I slowly sank in, enjoying the soothing caress of the water swirling around my body and limbs. Closing my eyes I let my hands roam my smooth torso, feeling the skin tingle at the soft touch, my nipples harden, as my fingers bumped against them

I let out a soft moan and moved my hands lower, over my flat belly, over my pubic arch, my fingers entangling with the wet hair down there. My cock twitched as my fingers ran over the flaccid shaft. I toyed with the fleshy appendage for a while before moving lower to cradle my heavy globes, squeezing them lightly in a loving grip.

Running my hands down my thighs I felt the fine hair bristle as Ashraf’s handsome face came floating before my closed eyes. I tried to picture him in the nude, trying to form shapes, attribute dimensions to the equipment that he carried between his legs, which, most fortunately, I had been able to catch a glimpse of. So masculine, so hot, and with that constant bulge in his crotch.

The thought of wanking-off came to my mind for a fleeting moment, as one hand retook the quickly swelling shaft in a steady grip and the other hand went back to playing with my balls. But with a slight shrug I decided against it, I would save it for later, tonight, I thought. Then I could really relax and create my favourite situations, built on fantasy.

Quickly pulling my hands away I went back to just caressing my tingling flesh and heard the soft knock on the outer door.

Wondering if it was probably housekeeping, come to ask if I wanted anything, I slowly got out of the tub. It had been a long time and with a smile I noted the wrinkled fingertips as I began to dry myself. Walking back into the bedroom I pulled on the white cotton dressing gown as I heard the soft knock again. I went to answer the door.

The smiling face of Ashraf greeted me, Hi, he said, the smile widening.

I stared back, my eyebrows raised in question.

Taking a bath? he asked looking at my uncombed, wet hair, I didn't disturb you?

No, I'm done, come inside," I said, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

I've just ordered some tea and sandwiches, I added looking over my shoulder towards Ashraf Why don't you join me? I suggested.

That would be nice, sir.

I noticed the young man on one of the beds, an extremely handsome face, tall and sinewy, with well-formed arms and calves, his skin bronzed and smooth. He lay on the bed, flipping through a magazine, still wearing his uniform, tight fitting trousers that left little to the imagination.

I jumped again when there was a knock at the door, room service.

Ashraf ran to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Come in, I said as the room service boy entered the room.

I signed the bill quickly, my hands slightly shaking.

I will collect the tray in one hour, he said as he left the room.

As I closed the door I could hear water running in the bathroom. It sounded like Ashraf was having a shower

I sat on the bed and waited patiently.

I was right.

Ashraf came back into the room wearing only a towel.

Smiling he said, You don’t mind do you, I had a shower?

No that’s fine, I replied, nodding slightly.

Practically naked with just his towel, Ashraf sat on the bed opposite me.

I kept my eyes focused on his crotch area, the bulge pronounced, and so obvious, unable to tear away, and hoping that he didn’t mind me staring.

I poured the tea and handed him a cup and saucer. Reaching out to accept it the towel opened slightly at his waist.

What do you know about Aqaba? he asked me.

There was a slight pause and he sensed the hesitation in my voice.

Very little.

I will tell you what to see.

Okay, that would be a good plan.

He then began to tell me about Aqaba.

"Aqaba is crammed into a little strip of land between the mountains and the sea. Across the water you can see the mountains of Sinai, and Eilat in Israel is only a few miles away to the west. Just 25 kilometres to the south is Saudi Arabia.

It is a free trade area; so many people from south Jordan come here to shop. Most prices are lower than elsewhere, but you are subject to customs duty when you take goods outside the area and there is a control point.

However, the officials are reasonable, and if you have low taxed items for your own consumption, you are unlikely to be asked to pay.

For those who are thirsty, the off-duty prices also apply to alcohol, beer and wine! Imported cigarettes are also cheaper here but tend to be rather dried up."

When he had finished he lit up a cigarette.

I wasn’t really listening; my mind was racing with him sitting only a few feet away, practically naked.

He brought both his knees up which caused his towel to open wide and his genitals to fall out.

I practically gasped out loud when I saw them.

His cock, although soft, was thick and dark brown in colour. It hung gently over his balls. I could see patches of black pubic hair too.

The dark cock hung almost five inches limp in front of the heavy balls. A study in contrasting colour tone it appeared to have been recently circumcised. The bottom of the shaft was almost black and riddled with prominent veins and smaller blood vessels which crept their way around the monster. These all came to an abrupt end at a very dark ring which circled the shaft half way down.

Above what looked like a classic cut where the skin had turned to a rusty brown and tapered ever so slightly below the massive dark helmet. I had never seen such a crown in my life: thick and heavy, as if it were weighing down the whole cock and pulling towards his knees.

An enormous plum of dark, smooth, tender flesh, open at the end, where the deep and long slit, with its raised lips, appeared to be in a state of excitement ready to release its juice, even when the cock was so evidently at rest.

Unable to control the reaction in my own cock, I had to tug at my crotch and release some of the material to accommodate the growing tube of flesh which was soon pressing against my waist.

Do you want to have sex? I heard him speak in his deep sultry voice.

The words took me by surprise and I sat frozen as I felt