I bartered at a foreign flea market by sucking the old store owner’s cock [F21][MF]

It was my third day in Istanbul, and I had just about had it.

My family was being insufferable, hotel room-sharing had left me fap-free, and my stomach had been in knots for days.

On the third day, they all wanted to go to the Grand Bazaar. I knew it would be mostly crap, but it was an experience recommended by many. And honestly, the alternative of staying in my room being pissed off wasn’t much better.

We walked through the main drag of the bazaar in an old building with ornately decorated gold and ivory ceilings higher than my libido. On each side vendors jutted out at us presenting beautifully arranged platters of Turkish delight, all of which started to taste the same after about the first five. It was an experience unlike any other flea market or street fair I had been to, and I didn’t even know what was coming.

Before exiting the indoor section of the city bazaar and venturing to the far more flea market-esque direction, I spotted a window with hand-stitched tapestries, all of which had deeply saturated cool tones on raw canvas. The juxtaposition of the delicate color with the harsh medium drew me into the store.

Standing in front of the outside window, I was captivated by a beautiful bright orange tapestry decorated with pomegranates and botanical patterns. I knew it was probably out of my price range, but figured I may be able to haggle to a reasonable price. I didn’t have much experience bartering though, so I was worried. If nothing else it would be good practice, I figured.

The store was different than many of the others I had been in. The walls were plain and clean with organized stacks of tapestries organized by size and color. A very handsome older Turkish man greeted me enthusiastically.

“Welcome, welcome.

Kiwi? Aussie?” he remarked, trying to discern where I was from.

“US,” I said.

“Ahh, US. Why your English is so good.”

Yeah, because it’s the only language my incompetent ass speaks.

“Thank you.”

I pointed to the window at the tapestry I had ogled before.

“How much?”

“Three thousand,
Three Thousand Turkish Lira”
he said with a heavy Turkish accent.

Fuck. This tapestry better have been hand stitched by Mohammed the Prophet himself to justify that price.

“Ooh, I’m sorry but I think that’s too much for me,” I said as I pulled away toward the door to exit.

“I can give you crazy price.”

“How crazy?”

“Two fifty.”

“I’m sorry, I think that’s still too much for me. I’m a student.”

“How much you can pay?”

“Too little,” I said, embarrassed and afraid of offending him.

“You can tell me. How much?”

This time he said it with a piercing gaze and softer tone , an abrupt shift from his previous stereotypical merchant demeanor.

“ 100 USD”

“ I cannot do that” he said, shaking his head.

Maybe this is where being a busty blonde can help.

“I know you can’t”

I grabbed his bicep and gave it a small squeeze, followed by a short stroke. I figured it was enough to be intimate, but wouldn’t be offensive if he didn’t respond well.

I continued to look at him intently and didn’t let my gaze stray from his for a moment.

“Do you think you could show me what you have in the back?”

“Of course, Miss USA. Come come.”

Interesting choice of command.

I like it.

He walked me to the back of the store and opened a locked door that led to even more stacks of organized tapestries.

He threw the deadbolt and looked at me. He clearly knew what was going on here.

“I’m a girl that likes getting what she wants”

My voice cracked as I looked down at his pants and starting touching his belt

“…and I’m willing to work for it.”

I bit my lip.

He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him. With one hand on the crotch of my shorts, and one on the top of my shoulder, he applied enough pressure to queue me to get on my knees.

I could feel the warmth between my legs and the chill on my knees as they touched the concrete floors.

He undid his belt and pushed down his slacks to reveal a enormous, hard cock. I wouldn’t need to stop for schwarma on my way home; I wouldn’t certainly get my fill of Turkish meat right here.

I wrapped my lips around his cock and began swirling my tongue around the tip as I moaned and moaned.

I could feel him getting harder. He grabbed a handful of my hair, dry and tangled from walking around the market, and pulled it in toward him

“ I love American girls.”

I continued for a few more minutes before he asked me if I wanted to swallow.

My mouth was too full of saliva to leave his cock for even a second to give a verbal answer, so I confirmed my desires by grabbing his ass with both hands to bring his huge cock deeper into my throat.

He came buckets. Far more than I had ever encountered. My mouth was overflowing with a greater current than the Danube. I tried to swallow, but was worried I would choke and cough cum all over him. I relented and let it leak out the corners of my mouth, dripping onto my breasts, which were cradled in a too-small white tank top.

After enough cum and spit had drained out of my mouth, I finally swallowed what was left. I wiped my jaw, used my shirt to sop up the cum on my chest, and looked up at him.

“So, 75 USD?”

He stood there somewhat deliriously with his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath.

“For angel like you

He took another breath and wiped his forehead

Of course.”

Damn. Maybe I was good at bartering after-all.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/czhby6/i_bartered_at_a_foreign_flea_market_by_sucking