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After Israel, I made it to Syria from Jordan rather easily, the little "stamp me on a separate piece of paper" thing working quite well.

Scrub Me, Baby!

Xtinemichaud
2005-12-23 16:49:22

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intent on either stimulating regrowth or preventing ingrown hair, vigorously digging the coarse glove between my thighs.

So I now had a naked obese woman frantically scrubbing my bare crotch with a coarse loafah glove! Need I say this whole situation started to dangerously border the erotic, like some second rate S&M porn where there always seems to be an obese woman involved...

But the best was still to come. Fakhriya made me sit up facing her and grabbed my wrist to scrub my arm, holding it parallel to the ground, palm up. Her breasts being as huge as they were, this meant I had her nipple resting right in the palm of my open hand! Extremely uncomfortable, I immediately tried to turn my hand down, but she twisted it right back up with a grunt. And did the same with the other arm. So I focused on keeping my hand stretched open as wide as I could, fighting the urge to clutch my fingers to better stand the painful scrub!

Just as I thought it couldn't get any more grotesque, Fakhriya unexpectedly grabbed my head with both hands and shoved my face right into her jiggling stomach, making it disappear between her gigantic breasts so she could scrub the back of my neck. Welcome to Jello land!

When she seemed happy with the job, she dragged me off the table and onto the concrete floor, making me sit down next to a wash basin. She mumbled some more "instructions" in Arabic that I couldn't understand and finally opted to splash me clean with hot water, much in the same fashion my grandfather used to wash his cows.

Then I was back on the table to be lathered in soap and "enjoy" a full-body massage, front and back. Again, no body parts were off limits, so I cannot conceive how a male masseur/scrubber could manage to remain completely cool and professional with a female client. My guidebook reported that some gals had complained about male masseurs having erections under their towels. Duh! Wonder why!

Finally, Fakhriya splashed me clean a second and last time and ordered me out after I stubbornly declined her offer of a shampoo.

I sheepishly grabbed my wet G-string and walked out naked, by now too traumatised to care about how inappropriate this was...

As I was getting dressed in the reception room, Fakhriya came to me to collect what she was owed.

"So, huh, what's your name?" I asked her.

"Me? Fakhriya. Why?", she inquired.

"Oh, hum, I just think you work very well, that's all," I replied.

She flashed her two silver front teeth in delight.

Fakhriya. I just HAD to put a name on that experience...