Sahara Oasis

My name is Lawrence—the same name as the famous Lawrence of Arabia. I am 35 years old, and I live in Kansas City. I often visit Morocco, and I am fluent in Arabic. I have a blog, where I chronicle my African adventures.

On my last visit to Africa, I made a startling discovery. There is a small oasis where only men live. There are about 200 individuals living there. About half are Arabs and the rest Berbers. I mentioned it in my blog, and created a lot of interest from guys who wanted to visit that oasis. I had discovered the email of a man who lived on the oasis, and alerted him about a possible visit. He said that he would welcome me.

So I decided to organize a group trip there and stated that in my blog. Twenty-some guys accepted. We were all to book the same flight, which would depart New York and arrive in Casablanca. While waiting to board, I put on a name tag and told the men to introduce themselves. Some of us traveled in business class, and the rest in coach. It was a 19 hour and 20 minutes flight, with two stops along the way. Next we took a train to Marrakesh, a journey of three hours and forty-five minutes.

There is no road to the oasis, so we had to take a desert bus there. They are especially equipped to travel on the sand. I didn’t know where we would stay when we got to the oasis. Perhaps my contact there could recommend something. Maybe he could arrange to put us up in some of the modest houses there. While there is no electric line to the oasis, they have a large electric generator, which serves the oasis well. Most of the guys who live there work in a town about twelve miles distant. I was sure that some of them would like to earn some extra money as a host.

We arrived in the late afternoon, and it was hot. I asked the way to the house of my email correspondent, Achmed, as there are no street signs or house numbers. They don’t need them. We were directed to his house, and he said that he could easily get us all fixed up for the night. I wonder if he had a double meaning. We got a lot of stares along the way. Berber guys are very light-skinned, but the Arabs are of a darker hue. One by one he got us a place to sleep, however modest the accommodation. Part of the deal was that our hosts would provide us with dinner, bed, and breakfast. Achmed told me that the village residents ranged in age from 21 to 60.

I was to lodge with two guys, probably lovers. Once everyone was housed, some of us walked around the village. I saw some really cute guys, who gave us the signal. I’m sure they were all very surprised. I had told everyone to bring lots of condoms and lubricants, as most of them are passive. I can alternate from top to bottom without a problem. Everything is so open that someone could have sex on the street and no one would object. They probably would like to watch the action.

My hosts served a very nice dinner of lamb kebab, with rice and fava beans, deliciously flavored. I sat on the floor, and ate with my hands, using a slice of pita when necessary to dig into a dish. Before bedtime, we had three-way sex. Both guys were in their twenties. I fucked one and sucked the other. They loved my practiced technique. For breakfast my hosts served a variety of jams and jellies, butter, and cheese. I don’t know how they can afford such luxury.

I was sure that all of my fellow travelers were enjoying themselves as well, as I heard the stories on the bus ride back to Marrakesh. Some oasis guys even came out of their houses to visit one where guests were staying, to join on the sexual fun.

I decided to make it an annual trip, but the next time round I will charge for my services as a guide.