The Cancun Thief

Posted in: Affairs | Escorts | Romance
Fantasies Literotica


Cancun is known for three things: beaches, party, and Maya ruins. If you go during spring-break season, you will party so hard, you will need another vacation to recover. Unfortunately for me, I was in Cancun on a two-weeks work assignment during the off-season. The first week, I had to go to a week-long convention and then the following week I had meetings with a few clients and some nighttime activities.

I did not know which part of my assignment I hated the most. The convention proved to be boring as hell and a massive sausage fest, with most attendants being old guys trying to get laid with the young Mexican models working the booths. Early in my career I learned to avoid the models on any convention, so my options of getting some action were limited to hook some woman at the hotel bar or hire a prostitute… which were not that great choices, and during the low season could be exactly the same thing.

If not getting laid for a week was a bleak prospect, the second part of my assignment looked even worse. Meeting clients in most parts of Latin America means having business dinners with them and their spouses. A single 40 years old guy without a female companion for the night sent a signal of being gay, and as a default, I would lose the client. Most businessmen in Latin America are extremely conservative – and machistas – so they would never consider doing business with a gay. Not even gay businessmen would break that tradition – those of them that were gay, were married with children to keep public appearances.

To avoid giving the wrong perception (I’m straight, but happily single), I hired escorts when I was in a city where I did not have friends, but the escorts in Cancun had two levels. The high end were girls who would charge astronomical rates reserved for big time CEOs, high ranking politicians, or drug lords – and I was neither. The others were glorified, overpriced hookers more suited to fuck college kids than to really represent some class in a formal setting. Four days into my assignment, I was bored, horny, and depressed thinking about the following week and all the business I would loose.

The fifth day of the convention, we were released earlier so we could enjoy the beautiful beaches of the area. Personally, I grew on the Caribbean a few yards from a beach, so it did not have any special attractive for me. Instead, I decided to go back to the hotel, have some rest, and prepare myself for the next week. When I got to my room, I heard some noises inside, as if someone was searching into drawers. There was no cleaning cart on the hallway, so it could only meant one thing: a hotel employee was stealing my stuff!

I opened the door and closed it as silently as possible, putting the security bolts in place. For a 40 years old guy, I keep myself in decent shape. In my younger years I used to fight for money and I had been training in MMA for a few years. Besides, I am taller and heavier than the average Mexican guy, so I was confident I could win a fist fight if that was needed. When I entered the main area of the room, I was surprised to see the figure of a short woman kneeling in front of the room’s safety box, trying to open it with a combination written on a piece of paper. She was giving me her back and she had not seen me and apparently neither heard me. The bathroom door was open, allowing me to see from my point that we were the only ones in the room.

“Can I help you with something?” I said in Spanish, making her to turn and fall ass first on the floor next to the still closed safety box. If seeing a woman in the room trying to steal my things had surprised me, I was even more surprised when I saw her face in shock. She was young and pretty, maybe 20 years old. She had the typical short height of the women in Mexico (barely 5 feet tall), but she had a completely exotic look. Her skin was the color of dark caramel and her hair was not the straight black hair common in the region, but a light auburn curly hair that fell below her shoulders. Her eyes were the strangest – they were gray – and her whole complexion made her look like one of those porcelain dolls you see on an old lady’s house. She was an employee of the hotel, as she was using the loose shirt and skirt that was the uniform of the bars around the pool. She had been caught in the act, and she was looking for an exit.

“We are on a seventh floor, so the window is not a good option unless you can fly. Your only exit is that door and I am blocking it, so you better start talking before I call the hotel security office…” I said in Spanish while sitting on a chair and taking the phone from the table next to me. In fact, I was blocking her only way out and she realized that I was talking for real.

“You caught me red handed…” she answered also in Spanish. Although her looks were not Mexican, her accent sounded like the one you hear on the upper classes from Mexico City. I had visited the capital a few times and with so many friends, both in the Mexican capital and in New York, I was able to identify some of the different accents from the country. “But please, don’t call Security…” she continued looking at me with her gray eyes. I noticed she had tears on her eyes, but her voice was strong. She started pleading her case, telling me that she had never done it before and she was doing it simply because she had to. That argument got my interest, so I asked her to give me the details.

Her name was Fátima, 20, and she was Mexican, but her father was from Libya. Her father arrived to Mexico in the 1970’s and ended marrying a woman from the “De-efe”, the way Mexicans call their capital. She had gone to good schools there and even graduated at 16 from high school. She had started some college work when her parents died in a car accident. She moved to Cancun to live with an aunt, but unlike her parents, her aunt did not have plenty of money. Fatima was going to receive her parents’ money and properties when she became 21 – as established in her dad’s will – until then, she had to work to help her aunt.


A friend recommended her to look for work in tourism because she spoke four languages – Spanish, English, Arabic, and French – and she had an exotic look that would attract the tourists tips. She expected to become a tour guide, but her boss gave her the worst shifts at the bars because she rejected his romantic advances. The guy was harassing her and she wanted to leave – but it was an effort in vain. Her boss was well connected in the area and he had blocked any chance for her to move to another hotel. Her only option was going back to the capital, but before doing that, she needed to leave some money for her aunt. She thought that $2,000 US dollars would be enough to help her aunt, move to the capital and allow her to live until she got a job there. As all tourism workers, her wage was a joke and the tips were the bulk of her income – but she was barely surviving. To get better assignments in areas where the tourists left higher tips, she would have to sleep with her boss, and she was not a hoe. That was why she was stealing from guests. My room had been the first she had entered, and I had caught her before she found anything valuable.

Being Hispanic, I believed her. She would take forever to get the money she needed… and I could understand why her boss wanted her. The motherfucker would be bragging for ages if he nailed such an exotic beauty.

Suddenly, I had an idea… She was a well educated, beautiful young lady in need of money and I was a low-level businessman in need of a classy escort for the next week. The money she needed was well within my budget for an escort, and even if I did not fuck her that week, her company would be a welcomed change.

I put the phone back on the table and asked her to sit on the bed, closer to me. She did, unsure of my intentions. I assured her she was safe and that I only had a business proposition for her. I explained my situation – lonely businessman with social commitments that did not want to hire a prostitute – and offered her to work for me the next week. I would pay her $2,000 US dollars, a one way air ticket to Mexico City, plus I would cover her clothing expenses during our arrangement. Her job was to be my “date” for the five business dinners I had the following week. She would go to the airport with me when I was scheduled to leave and I would pay her there. I had already booked a small suite in another hotel that was more business oriented and it was like an apartment with two bedrooms. She could stay with me if she wanted, and I only needed her company. Sex was not required or implied.

Fatima considered her options – work for the guy that caught her trying to steal his stuff, or continue stealing guests with the hope of getting the money she needed to go back home- and soon accepted my offer. She even told me that she would work as my assistant during the whole week for no extra money, she just wanted to leave that damned hotel. She would resign right that afternoon and she would wait for me next morning at the lobby with a surprise. We agreed to meet next morning on the lobby… and I was curious for the surprise.

Next morning, I was at the main desk doing my checkout when I heard Fatima’s voice behind me. I turned around and could not recognize the hot and professional looking woman that had called my name. I knew she was pretty, but the day before I could not notice her body under the baggy hotel uniform. That morning, she was wearing a tight white blouse buttoned enough to give the hint of a full cleavage and a blue pencil skirt that hugged her hips and ass like it had been painted on her. She had a little scarf tied on her neck and her hair was tied in a pony tail. She had a clipboard on her hand and was addressing me using my last name as accustomed in Latin America. I could see the faces of her former coworkers, and specially the face of whom I guessed to be her boss. She had arranged transportation to the new hotel earlier in the morning and as soon we were inside the car, she began laughing.

“Did you see their faces? I loved the way that the idiot looked at me… and at you! He did not dare to even get close!” Fatima was celebrating. “Can you believe that yesterday, when I presented my notice, he laughed at me, boasting that I was making a huge mistake, saying that the only job I would find in this town would be as a hooker. When he looked the way I was dressed this morning, he was fuming, and when he realized you were my new boss, God, that was epic!” I had to laugh too, but deep inside, I understood the poor guy. This exotic fruit had left his reach and ran to a foreigner that now was her boss. I would be cursing to myself in his place!

Fatima showed to be an exceptional personal assistant. She retook her professional role as soon we arrived to the new hotel, coordinating the services needed for the meeting room included as part of the business suite I had booked. We sat and reviewed our schedule of activities – both formal and informal. She asked how I wanted her to dress for each one of the activities and we agreed on a professional, but attractive style. She even checked my clothes and suggested to go shopping a few pieces. We spent the rest of the day shopping for our little charade and she impressed me. Not only she had great taste, but she also kept her expenses well below what I thought she would spend.

The working week began and Fatima passed the tests with flying colors. During the daytime meetings, she was the definition of professionalism and efficiency. During the night time activities, she was classy and acted the part of a seasoned assistant to the perfection. My clients were dazed by her beauty, her small and well proportionate body, and mesmerized by her walk. Their wives were impressed by her class and education. Formal dinners and social gatherings were second nature to this young woman. She navigated all with a security and charm that was unique. I closed all my businesses that week and decided to invite her for a little celebration.

We were exhausted after a week of fine dining and cocktails, so for celebrating, we went to a small casual place on the beach to eat authentic Mexican food. She was stunning with a white folkloric peasant light dress. Her hair was lose, her curls falling naturally over her naked shoulders. The thin fabric hugged her figure, allowing to see the contour of her curves. She was not wearing any makeup and honestly she did not need any. I was in a t-shirt and jeans, feeling comfortable after two weeks of wearing  suits and ties.

We had a good time, eating, having a few beers, tequila, and even dancing. By the late afternoon, the music had changed from salsa and cumbia covers to boleros – the very slow and dramatic ballads that are classic in all Mexico and the Caribbean. The musicians were taking requests and Fatima requested a song. She asked me to dance it with her – it was her favorite. Of course, I went to the dance floor with my lovely companion.

We danced slowly, gluing our bodies. Her body felt great on my arms. Her breasts were pressing against my body and my hand on her waist was almost on her ass. I could feel her breathing on my chest, and I could notice she had tears on her eyes. I asked if she was alright, and for an answer she asked me to hug her harder. She reached my back with both her hands, so I press her waist closer me while my other hand caressed her back.

The dance, her heat, the liquor, and the fact that I had been almost two weeks without any sexual stimulation activated my hormones. My cock got hard and to my surprise, Fatima rearranged her posture to feel it with her body. I heard her saying “That feels good” and the hand I had on her waist reacted and went down to her ass. She separated her head from my chest and looking with her gray eyes, told me to be careful, because she could bite back. I smiled and gave her ass a little pinch and she reacted with a smile and playfully smacking my ass. “Joven, you have declared war!” she said before replacing her head on my chest, now in a better mood. We danced like that for twenty minutes, her body pressing mine and our hands caressing our backs. To the rest of the dancers we were a couple deeply in love.

We closed the place and walked back to the hotel holding hands. It was early morning and you could see the people going to their jobs. When we were close to the hotel, she stopped and told me to sit down in a bench facing the beach.

“I need to give you an apology…”she said.

“An apology? For what?!”

“For this…” she said before throwing herself on my arms, kissing my mouth with passion. I was surprised, but I held her and answered her kiss with the same passion. Her hands were all over my hair, mines were all over her small but round ass. We kissed for minutes and realized some of the people were looking, so we broke our kiss.

“I cannot forgive you… not yet.” I said mockingly. “We will have to deal with this in the room…”

Fatima blushed, but her eyes were telling that we were on the same page. We used the back door of the hotel to reach the elevator and got to the suite that had been our business center for a week. We continued on the sofa what we started on the beach front. The difference was that at the sofa, our hands were busy struggling with our clothes. Her dress fell to the floor, leaving Fatima in her simple cotton underwear. My shirt flew across the room just before her brassiere followed it. My pants and underwear and her panties got on top of the hall TV and right away she took my erect cock with her tiny hands and guided the tip to her already wet pussy. She sat on my meat, letting out a deep and long moan that sounded like music, and began moving her hips, feeling my rod going in and out of her.

I took her on my arms and changed positions with my member still inside her. Now she was lying on the sofa and I was basically kneeling. I knew I won’t last long, so I decided to fuck her hard. My cock would go almost out of her small pussy and then it would ram her, balls deep. She loved it, asking for more, slapping my ass, scratching my legs and trying to cross her legs around my hips. Meanwhile, I took interest on her breasts, a little pointy and in proportion with her petite frame. I groped them, kissed them, bit their nipples, pinched them – they were perfection made flesh. Her moans became screams when I sucked those nipples.

“Yes, Yes, YEEEESSSSS!!” she screamed when the orgasm hit her. I was climaxing, but I did not want to get her pregnant, so I removed my cock from her pussy and shot a huge load all over her torso.

“Shit, you showered me with it!” Fatima said when she noticed the cum on her breasts, her tummy and all over her trimmed pubic hair. “And it seems to have more ready!!” she said giggling while pointing to my still erect penis.

Chaparrita, that was juice for two days… and this is the first sex I have in fourteen!” I answered with a sadistic smile.

We went to the master bedroom of the suite and fucked like animals until the early afternoon. I really made up for the two weeks without sex. I had Fatima’s pussy again, and fucked her ass for an eternity. She kept the pacing, sucking my cock and masturbating me without hurry between takes, with me appreciating her interest eating her little pussy. I ended cumming four times that day and she had like six or seven orgasms. It was a marathon…

After taking a shower and cleaning the mess we had left on the living area, we ordered room service and ate sitting on the sofa – the same one where the marathon had started that morning. We were resting, lying on the sofa, with Fatima on top of me, both of us naked under the hotel’s plush robes.

“Fatima, do you mind if I ask you two things I have in my head?” She raised her pretty face and looked straight to my eyes before telling me to ask her whatever I wanted.

“Why were you crying yesterday during that song?” She placed her head on my chest and simply said that it was her favorite song – a song she used to sang to her father. While dancing, she realized our time together was going to end and she felt overwhelmed by all that had happened since we met a week earlier. She was already missing us being together. I stroke her curls and asked the second question…

“By the way, what was that thing about an apology this morning on the beach?” That one caught her by surprise, making her to sit on my lap. The robe opened a little bit, giving me a great view of her naked torso and her trimmed brown-red bush.

“Oh that…” she said, blushing again. “When you caught me stealing your stuff last week, I feared you would rape me as a punishment, then you would call Security and got me in jail. Instead, you asked me to be your escort, and after I accepted the deal, I feared you would force me to be your sex slave for a whole week… but you kept your word at all times.

On the second night we went dining with your clients, I went to the rest room with your client’s companion. She was a professional escort – a high priced one, by the way – and she was crying inside the restroom. Your client hired her during the weekend and he had forced her to suck his cock twice every day. She even told me that the bastard made her swallow his semen… Yesterday’s client went to the dinner party with his lover, a girl he had been paying since two years ago. She lives in an expensive apartment and drives a sports car he pays, but he treats her like a disposable bag… He shows her around, fucks her even when she does not want, and if she does not have an orgasm – something she had been faking for months – he hits her because she is there to do what he wants. I realized you were not a monster like I feared…

I wanted you to fuck me after that second night, but you were keeping your word, being a gentleman, treating me with respect… even when I did not deserve that after what I was going to do to you… Yesterday, when we were dancing, I realized you had been the best thing that had happened to me in years – and I’m going to lose you in a few days! I could not stand that anymore!”

Fatima was sobbing, and I could see the trails of her tears through the opening of the robe, from her face all the way down to her pubes. I took her face and pulled her down, so she was again on top of me. I kissed her lips delicately, and after a few minutes, I took her on my arms and carried her to her bedroom. I lied her small body on the bed and opening her robe, kissed every inch of her flesh. I was hard again, so I penetrated her pussy again. This was not passion or desire – it felt different… I cared for this young woman. We made love, long and slow, until I ejaculated deep inside her. We kissed and caressed each other before we fell sleep, exhausted but with smiles on our faces.

Two days later, we were at the airport. As promised, I gave her the two grand and the ticket to Mexico City. She almost fainted when she realized the ticket was in first class. Besides the promised payment, I gave her a manila envelope I told her not to open until she was airborne. She complained but agreed to do as told. I had my own flight to take, so we hugged and kissed goodbye…

That night, I had just arrived to my home in New York when I heard my phone ringing. It was Fatima, crying, telling me she missed me, and thanking me for the envelope. Inside the mysterious envelope I had placed a few items: a card with my phone number in New York, a stack of papers, a set of keys, and a smaller envelope.

The stack of papers? It had a few documents, starting with a job offer to work with one of my biggest clients in Mexico City, a female fashion designer that was always complaining about the lack of class of the personal assistants she had. Without Fatima knowing it, I had sent this client an e-mail describing Fatima’s professionalism and a few video clips of her work as a personal assistant I had taken with my cell phone. The stack also included letters of recommendation from three of the clients we had worked with in Cancun – including words from their respective wives – , all of them very respected people in the capital.

The keys? Let’s say I pulled a few strings of my contacts in the capital and got her a small apartment in a good area of the city. Her rent was covered for three months, so she could move in right away. In fact, she was calling me from the apartment because I had arranged for a driver to pick her up at the airport and take her directly to that address.

The smaller envelope? Just an airplane ticket to New York for the Holidays… with a note reading “I will accept your apologies only if you come for Christmas – ¡ RATERA ! (thief)”


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The Cancun Thief, 8.3 out of 10 based on 12 ratings

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