Who Says You Can’t, In Jeddah


“Seat 2B, right here sir,” the strikingly attractive stewardess advised me where to sit, “and have a very pleasant flight.”

I was surprised that she had actually added those last words as employees of the particular airline were not really known for their friendly attitude. Come to think of it, they were not known for their good looks either.

The Pakistan International Airlines flight from Lahore was running behind schedule and for all intents I should have been surly. But the moment I laid eyes on the lovely young lady, my anger dissipated in a flash.

I was traveling First Class and had a nice seat in a nearly empty section while the economy cabin behind was chock full. Saudi Arabia was a favourite destination for labour and low end workers from Pakistan, though quite a few Pakistani professionals had excellent management positions in the country. However, only a few boring and stuffy types were occupying about a fourth of the available seats at the front of the aircraft.

In a few short hours I would be in Jeddah, starting a job in international management for a leading multinational corporation. I was apprehensive about taking the position. Saudi Arabia was not known as the most pleasant destination for a single, young, well-off person. Yet the package that had been offered was so much better than what any other location could match.

I smiled as the plane taxied out and recalled a dear friend seeing me off at the airport with a snide passing remark, “No one ever gets any pussy in Saudi, so you might as well leave your cock in a bank in Pakistan!”

Being PIA, the entertainment systems were relatively few and boring, so sleeping, talking to someone or reading were the only options. I had enjoyed a full night’s rest so was not sleepy. There was no one sitting next to me and the choice of conversation partners among the passengers was non-existent. The Pakistani newspapers held my attention for only a half hour.

Thankfully breakfast was served and broke the monotony. I noted from the uniform nametag that the pretty young lady was named Qamar. There were a number of items on offer on the well-laden food cart and I pointed to some eggs.

“Sir, yeh shakal say achchey hain, laikin zaiqay say nahin! (Sir, those look good but do not taste so!)”

I asked her to surprise me. She set the plate on my table after placing a number of food items in it. I noted that the stuff she had selected looked a lot more appetizing than the eggs.

I noticed a smile breaking at my response of, “Thank you so much, Qamar, I am sure you got me just the best things.”

“Enjoy,” she said while surprisingly giving my arm a slight pat.

“I was wondering though whether you are also like the eggs,” a look of bewilderment crossed her face, “and if those very pretty looks hide a not so nice personality, I certainly hope that is not the case!”

Qamar openly giggled, gave me a wink and moved off almost whispering, “I bet you would like to know!” Her hand brushed mine as she left to serve the next passenger two rows back. I was definitely flirting with her, but was not so sure if she was returning the favour in kind.

The meal concluded and I needed to visit the facilities. On this aircraft the only toilet was right up front, next to the cockpit entrance and across from the First Class galley. Just as I reached for the handle, the door opened wide and a female form backed out hard into me. We both took a tumble into the galley area.

It took a split second to try to get myself off the floor when I noted that Qamar was lying right on top of me, her backside exactly over my midsection. A pregnant pause followed before she realized her predicament. Qamar started to lift herself off my body, apologizing profusely for not looking where she was going. Apparently she had just ensured that the washroom had all the needed amenities and was exiting as I came up behind. Rather than gain traction on the floor, her feet slid on a slippery surface and instead of getting up, she then fell back again in a manner that her face came up close to mine and her lips landed on my cheek. She appeared helpless and did not notice as I put one arm around her waist and helped her up, the other holding one of her hands. My palm had come up against her breasts and she pulled away after an extended moment.

“It is okay miss,” I comforted her with a pat to her shoulder, while releasing her hand, “I should have looked out also before running into you.”

We had caused a bit of a ruckus and another stewardess and the purser came up to see if all was well. Qamar was turning red at the prospect of receiving a grilling for pushing a First Class passenger onto the floor. Instead I owned up to accidently bumping into her and knocking us both down. I could tell that neither of the crew members fully believed the story, but noted that Qamar mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” to me.

Sometime later she brought me a piping hot cup of tea and sandwiches without my asking. Apparently Qamar bahçelievler escort was trying to make things up to me.

“I am so sorry sir,” she sounded very apologetic, “I hope you like the tea, which is from a personal blend and not from the airline stock. My uncle specially prepared the mix, he works for Lipton’s and makes special batches for me every so often.”

“I am sure it is delightful, but I am not sure if the tea and the kiss on my cheek quite compensates for the terrible fall I took and then having to lie for you!” I kidded her as I made a face to indicate severe pain while pointing to my ribs.

Luckily she caught on after initially turning red at the mention of the supposed kiss, bent down next to my ear and whispered, “Fine sir, how else can I make sure your trouble is rewarded?”

“Nothing at all up here,” I said while adding in a low voice, “but if you are in Jeddah tonight, do allow me to take you out to dinner.”

Qamar smiled, gave me another wink and light pat on my arm, and went off to resume her duties without giving me the answer I sought. The tea was indeed delicious and the prospect of a future tryst with her made it even better.


Jeddah airport was designed by an idiot for idiots to operate. The damn plane was parked out three districts away from the terminal. Then a rickety bus shunted passengers to the building. No separate First Class passenger vehicle was provided so one had to just bear the rush of workers, who had never heard of deodorants, into the vehicle. One quickly learned the rush was to get to the front of the immigration queue, or rather ten different queues, half without an officer at the desk. It took the better part of an hour to get through immigration, another half hour at customs, and finally I met my new colleague Spiros who had been waiting to pick me up, holding a large picture of one of our company’s main consumer brands.

We headed out to my hotel, the Al-Salam Meridien, located not far from the company offices. It looked like a half decent place. As I checked in, I noted that my suitcase was not where I had placed it. Looking around, I saw it being loaded onto a large cart along with bags for what seemed to be a flight crew.

As I quickly accosted the bellboy and retrieved my luggage, I heard a familiar voice asking the same bellboy to take her stuff upstairs. I turned and both Qamar and I were sudden struck speechless. She was staying in the same hotel and I found out that PIA had been using the facility for many years. Taking a risk and noting that she was standing out of earshot of the rest of the crew, I asked again if she was open to my invitation for dinner.

“Frankly sir, I would love to go,” she responded, “but we are not allowed to be out alone and must return by 10:30 pm.”

“That is too bad,” I was disappointed but pushed things forward knowing that the crew would not be on an open expense account but some sort of per diem arrangement that would not cover the better outlets in a supposedly 5-star hotel, “perhaps then we can visit one of the restaurants in this fine place.”

“Actually, what I meant to say was that we are allowed to go out if two or more female crew members are together and follow time rules,” she explained, “and so if it is okay with you I could ask another colleague if she will come along!”

I gladly agreed and was just in time to catch Spiros before he exited the parking lot. He was game in less than five seconds. In this way I could focus on my target, rather than being in a sort of unneeded three-way situation. Also Spiros would have female company, a definite rarity in Saudi. Fifteen minutes later, just as the call to afternoon prayer sounded, Qamar approached us, along with another pleasing, but not so striking, female.

“This is Chanda,” she explained, “and we will be glad to accompany you.”

After I had introduced him, Spiros suggested that we could have a quick lunch at a fast food joint, go on to the beach, and then have an early dinner, before bringing them back. Chanda was game but also had to visit the market for a bit of shopping. Qamar on the other hand, had simply sided up to me and given my hand a quick squeeze. They asked for a half hour to change out of their uniforms and I figured I could sort myself out too.


Thirty minutes later, Spiros and I were on tenterhooks waiting for the ladies to arrive. In the mood of things we had forgotten to ask what their room number was. Hotel policy in Saudi was not to provide information about single females, notably those associated with the airline, and we could not rely on the concierge for this information. As the time ticked away, we wondered if the girls had duped us. Further tentative minutes elapsed before the two forms we sought finally appeared.

“I bet you thought we were not coming,” Qamar piped up.

“The thought did cross my mind,” I said, “but I figured you owed me too much from the flight!”

“My apologies,” balgat escort she explained, “the purser wanted to have lunch but we told him we were going shopping and that took more than fifteen minutes.”

Qamar had changed into a very fashionable red shalwar kameez, with a check printed dupatta and a smart pair of heeled sandals. She looked sensational and could have walked off the pages of any of the finer Pakistani ladies fashion magazines.

“I hope you like my outfit and that it is suitable for wherever we are going,” she asked, “it was a birthday present from my parents.” Frankly she would have looked good barefoot, in a jute sack, and with unwashed hair.

Chanda had opted for tight black pants, with a white kurta, a black jacket and a pair of pumps. Although she was nowhere near Qamar in the looks department, she looked appetizing enough. At least Spiros had his interest piqued. I had explained to him earlier on that Qamar was mine and he was welcome to the friend. I figured he was happy to have any female company, rather than trying to get into a contest for the real beauty in our foursome. I could also sense that he was already having hopes for the immediate future and a definite bulge was evident on his crotch. I felt though that he realized he had the second best option and would stare at Qamar quite often.

As we left the place both girls automatically grabbed for their sizable handbags and pulled out black abayas, the body covering garment not officially mandated for females, but required anyway in the country. They clearly had prior experience of the place and were aware of local sensibilities. Spiros led Chanda to the front passenger seat, allowing Qamar and myself into the back. As she sat down I tentatively offered her my right hand. Without hesitation she put her left hand in it and did not pull it away as we drove off. She did not mind either when I placed our clasped hands onto her leg, allowing me further contact with her body. After a bit she had the urge to retrieve something for her handbag and removed her hand from mine. I took a chance, grabbed on to her thigh and began to slowly move my palm up and down. Qamar did not stop me as I rubbed her leg. I desperately wanted to probe under her clothes but it was broad daylight and we had the other two in the front seats to be concerned about.


Spiros drove to one of the only malls in existence at the time in Jeddah. It included a France-based supermarket chain and a department store, in addition to a few fast food places. While we quickly ordered some food and took our seats in the family area, Spiros told me he would be gone for just a tad. That turned out to be a half hour, and he ended up eating a cold sandwich. However, for what he did bring I was most grateful.

Just past two-thirty p.m., we arrived at a relatively secluded beach area. There appeared to be just a few vehicles around and I noted that these belonged to Western expats. It was surprising to see a number of swimsuit clad ladies at the location and no locals in sight.

“Welcome to Twenty-Nine Palms,” Spiros announced, “this is a great diving spot and rarely has any Saudis. The Coast Guard monitors from a distance and no one minds that foreign women are around in a state of undress.”

He parked at a secluded spot and we took in our surroundings. Spiros suggested getting into the water, as it was otherwise a fairly hot day, or walking at the edge of the beach. The girls looked down at their feet and began to undo their fancy shoes. Spiros pulled a bag out of the trunk and handed the two girls and myself a pair each of flip flops.

“You’d be surprised how many of the folks that come here forget to bring something as basic as beach worthy footwear!” Spiros offered.

“But my dress will be ruined if I go,” Qamar suddenly piped up, “I dressed up for dinner, not a day at the sea!”

Spiros absolutely surprised me with his foresight as he retrieved the package acquired at the mall. It contained two female swimsuits bought at the store. This apparently solved the problem in an excellent manner and I appreciated the fact that he was a Master’s graduate from an Ivy League School, as he had told me during the drive from the airport.

“I can’t put that on, it’s too revealing,” Chanda complained, “I will just sit in the car.” She seemed a tad unhappy with the way things were turning out.

I could feel Spiros and myself both deflating. However, Qamar did something most unexpected. She grabbed both swimsuits, and took Chanda by the arm. She then indicated that we should both turn around and walk a distance away. A few minutes later I heard her calling out for me.

“The dinner had better be a five-star affair,” Qamar remarked, “neither of us are used to exposing ourselves in this manner, but we did wanted to show that we appreciated your invitation.”

With that both girls stepped out from the other side of the car, dressed in the swimsuits. The suit Qamar wore fit her ankara escort extremely well. She was wearing a pastel design suit with a belt around the middle. I noted that her boobs were smaller than average, but then I liked girls with manageable top sections. Chanda was in a suit that had a leopard print up front and was all black on the back. It seemed to be extra-stretched given that she was quite busty, and it appeared that her boobs were trying their hardest to get out of the constraints she had put them in.

“We are going to the Japanese Steakhouse and I will gladly pay for the evening,” Spiros audibly stated while giving a low wolf whistle, “we are gratified by the fact that you appreciate our invitation!”

Qamar took a few steps up to me and did not object as I put my arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Chanda, on the other hand, was more measured in her approach to Spiros, but did slowly get near him and reluctantly put her hand in his extended palm.

“Let me get something you might find fascinating,” Spiros said and removed a couple of scuba masks, “the water is very clear and the fish come up really close.”

This seemed to get Chanda’s attention and she walked off with him. In a couple of minutes she was enjoying the surf in waist high water. And shortly after she let Spiros walk her in a bit further so she could put on a mask and see the fish. As soon as she had observed the first lionfish not so far away, she giggled with joy and threw her arms around his neck. It looked like Spiros was going to get lucky that evening.

“Don’t you want to show me any fish?” Qamar spoke up.

“Oh no, I am very happy with this mermaid I have with me on land!” I laid it on thick, getting a chuckle in response.

I took the opportunity to get both arms around her. Figuring that things were well set as she had not objected to the embrace, I lowered my mouth and tried to kiss her lips. I felt Qamar tense and bend backwards. My forward momentum meant that I ended up kissing her shoulder.

“Mr. Raheel behave yourself, I am not that type of girl,” Qamar chided me, though she made no attempt to extricate herself from my grip.

“My apologies, I thought you were just the perfect girl to spend a lovely day with and wanted to express my thanks that you were kind enough to accept coming here with a sincere kiss,” I responded with an alertness of mind that even surprised myself.

Qamar was left dumbstruck by my response, her lips slightly apart and eyes wide with amusement. My mouth took a downwards arc once again. This time my lips connected perfectly with hers and my tongue found its way through her teeth. Thankfully, she did not pull back but allowed my tongue to tango with hers.

I wanted to slide her swimsuit off and take her on the spot. However, we potentially could be seen by the few other beachgoers in the wide open space. Also Spiros had not brought a mat to recline on. Sitting in the car would not be an option as he had the keys tied to his wrist while he was swimming and without the air-conditioning it would be too hot.

Qamar came willingly as I led her to the water and was happy to go in till only her shoulders and neck were visible above the surf. Taking a calculated risk, I hooked my fingers under her shoulder straps and slid them aside and downwards. Qamar’s boobs popped out and she instinctively crossed her arms over her bust.

“Raheel Sahib, behave yourself!” she protested as I undid the clasp of her arms over her breasts and crossed her hands behind her back. Between healthy swigs of very salty water, I started to kiss and suck on her boobs and tits with gusto. Qamar began to get aroused and as I released her arms from the hold I had them in, she locked them around my neck. Her mouth began to regularly join mine and she seemed not to care as my hands rubbed her hips, back and any other part I wanted.

Emboldened by my progress so far, I started to coax her swimsuit further down in order to gain access to her honey pot. The fact that Qamar did not object encouraged me as her suit slid down her waist, bared her cunt and bunched around her knees. My hand cupped her womanhood and she sighed with anticipation. By now, I had lowered my trunks and was lining up to penetrate her while still standing and at the mercy of waves that appeared to be increasing in intensity.

“It’s okay,” she whispered in my ear as I brought my cock into contact with her pussy.

“Qamar, we need to move now so I can get to the market for my shopping!” Chanda’s shrill voice was more effective than a block of dry ice in returning my dick to a significantly smaller size.


The girls lost themselves within the Balad downtown shopping district much like a thirsty person led to water. Our original intent was that we would be done within an hour. It was, however, the sound of the evening call to prayer and the forced closure of shops that enabled us to retrieve them and head towards the nearby Hyatt Regency and the fine Japanese restaurant there.

Spiros and I had been discussing things while the girls had us follow them around and act as porters for their purchases. We sensed that neither of them had any qualms about letting us buy them a number of odds and ends in addition to whatever was on their shopping lists.