The ride home was quiet, our fingers intertwined, smiles dancing on our faces from memories we were still soaking in. At home, everything felt the same, but we were different.
We started doing the small things differently. I’d wake her with gentle kisses and coffee in bed when I could. She’d surprise me with my favorite home-cooked meals and those warm, healing hugs at the end of long workdays. We’d light candles in the living room for no reason. Sometimes we’d dance barefoot at midnight to the same songs we played on the balcony in Hurghada.
Every now and then, when the city got too loud, we’d lock the world outside, draw the curtains, and relive the silence and softness we had by the sea, wrapped in each other on the couch, her head on my chest, my hands tracing her back like I was still memorizing her all over again.
She’d whisper things like, “I miss that sunset over the water,” and I’d say, “Just wait till July.”
One night, we sat on the balcony, a soft breeze brushing against our skin, and I told her I had already picked out our July destination.
“El Gouna?” she said, eyes lighting up. “That amazing, luxurious town by the lagoons?”
I nodded. “Not just El Gouna. We’re staying at The Chedi. I booked the suite with the private terrace and ocean views; the beach is literally footsteps away from the terrace. One week, just you and me, no plans except to fall in love again and again.”
She gasped and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re serious?”
I kissed her softly. “Dead serious.”
She melted into me, her voice low and full of emotion. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of love.”
“You just had to be you,” I whispered. “That’s all it took.”
From that moment on, every day felt like a gentle countdown to July. We started reading about El Gouna together, talking about boat rides, beach dinners, moonlit walks, and the art galleries and little cafés we wanted to explore. She even started picking out matching beachwear and new dresses she wanted to wear “just for me.”
In the evenings, we’d watch travel videos of the Red Sea, imagining ourselves walking hand-in-hand down those quiet piers or sipping cocktails by the pool. It became more than just a vacation. It became a promise—a continuation of everything we were building.
The morning sun poured into our bedroom in Cairo, golden and warm, the kind of light that promised adventure. I turned to see her already awake beside me, smiling, her fingers gently tracing the edge of my jaw.
“Ready for our second summer escape?” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She nodded, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been dreaming of it since Hurghada.”
By 9 a.m., we were on the road—windows down, music playing, her hand resting on my thigh, her other hand hanging out the window, catching the wind.
The road to El Gouna was quiet, smooth, filled with anticipation. We stopped once for coffee and a snack at a little roadside café, where she wore her oversized sunglasses and that effortlessly sexy sundress that clung to her in all the right ways.
When we arrived at The Chedi, it was like walking into a dream. Sleek architecture, elegant calm, the sound of water gently flowing in stone fountains. The staff greeted us warmly, handing us cool towels and iced drinks as they escorted us to our suite.
But when we opened the door to our Premium Beach Front Terrace Suite, both of us gasped. It was even more romantic than we had imagined. A king-sized bed wrapped in soft white linen, rose petals scattered across the sheets and a private terrace with the beach right in front.
She ran to the terrace, her hair dancing in the wind, and turned to me, laughing. “This place is insane.”
I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “You’re the only thing that matters in this view.”
We spent the first hour just lying on the big bed, the AC cool on our skin, the silence sweet. I kissed her shoulders lazily as she looked out at the sea, her body still soft with sleep and excitement.
We freshened up and decided to explore the town. She wore a light blue off-the-shoulder dress that matched the water perfectly, and I couldn’t stop looking at her. We strolled through the Abu Tig Marina, stopping to check out small boutique stores, picking out souvenirs, trying sunglasses, and joking about buying matching hats.
We had a long lunch at a shaded café by the docks, seafood, lemon mint drinks, and her feet playfully brushing against mine under the table. Boats bobbed in the water nearby, and the whole world felt slow, like time existed just for us.
After lunch, we walked hand-in-hand through Downtown El Gouna, taking photos, discovering murals, and slipping into a hidden gelato shop where she fed me spoonfuls of pistachio and hazelnut ice cream.
“Let’s never leave,” she whispered.
“I don’t plan to,” I said, not meaning the place, but her.
We returned to the suite just before sunset. She headed to the bathtub first, slipping into the warm bubbles with a sigh of pure pleasure, and I joined her with two glasses of chilled white wine. The breeze carried the scent of salt and jasmine, and I couldn’t stop kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck.
When we got out, dripping wet and still buzzing from the view, we wrapped ourselves in soft robes and walked barefoot back to the bed. She pulled me in with just her eyes. The glass doors were open; the last rays of sunlight filled the room with soft firelight. The bed was bathed in the golden-pink glow of sunset. We didn’t rush. We didn’t need to. Every movement, every kiss, every touch was slow, intentional, almost sacred.
I made love to her that night with the sea before us and the sky painted in colors I’ll never forget. She moaned softly into my ear as I ate her pussy, her hands slightly scratching my back as I fucked her slowly, whispering my name like it was a prayer. And when she came, it was like waves crashing on the shore, gentle, powerful, endless.
Later, we lay in bed tangled in each other; the stars watching us through the open doors. The sea breeze cooled our bare skin as we whispered about nothing and everything.
“I never knew I could feel this alive,” she said, resting her head on my chest.
“Wait till tomorrow,” I smiled.
The next morning, I woke just before sunrise. She was curled up beside me, her bare back rising and falling gently with each breath. I couldn’t resist—leaning in, I kissed the slope of her shoulder, then her spine, slowly trailing my lips until she stirred and turned to face me.
“Morning already?” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Come on, baby,” I smiled, brushing the hair from her eyes. “I want to catch the sunrise with you.”
Still wrapped in the hotel’s soft linen robe, we stepped out onto the terrace. The air was cool, crisp, filled with the scent of salt and morning breeze. We sat side by side on the terrace as the sky shifted from a dark navy to a gentle gold. I pulled her into my lap. She rested her head against my chest as the first rays of sunlight crept over the water, and we just watched in silence. It was the kind of peace I wanted to bottle forever.
Then she tilted her face up toward mine, kissed me slowly with her soft lips, sleepy eyes, warm skin against mine. That kiss turned into another. And another.
I carried her from the chair; we made our way back inside, laughter bubbling between kisses. The glass doors remained open, the rising sun watching as I laid her on the warm bed, and we kissed very slowly, as if time didn’t exist. I took off her robe and revealed her flawless body. I went down to her beautiful tits and started sucking on them and playing with her nipples. I made my way down to her glorious pussy, as I felt like it was calling for me, wanting me to devour it, and so I did. I kept eating her until she pulled my dick out of my underwear and put it right in her pussy.
“Fuck me slow, baby, I wanna feel every inch of your big hard dick going inside my pussy until I cum all over it,” she whispered in my ear.
We came together quietly, tenderly, like the waves lapping at the shore behind us.
We finally got dressed around 11 a.m. and headed down to the resort’s restaurant for a late breakfast. She wore a pale yellow summer dress with a straw hat and looked like a goddess. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sipped her fresh mango juice and laughed at my jokes.
After breakfast, I surprised her with something I had planned: a private desert safari in a 4×4 just outside El Gouna as she seemed to love it when we did it in Hurghada. Her face lit up the moment the guide picked us up, and we left the city behind. The resort faded into the distance, and soon we were surrounded by golden sands, mountains far on the horizon, and absolute silence.
We made several stops, once to ride camels for fun (she giggled the whole time, holding on to me for dear life), and again at a panoramic cliff where the view of the desert met the sea in the far distance. She took off her sandals and walked barefoot in the cool, soft dunes.
“Let’s stay here till sunset,” she whispered, reaching for my hand.
We sat under a shaded canopy the guide had set up, sipping mint tea and listening to nothing but the breeze. Her head rested on my shoulder. My fingers traced circles on her thigh.
Before heading back, we took a few photos—her in front of the golden dunes, laughing, her dress caught in the wind. She looked like something out of a dream. I told her exactly that, and she kissed me so deeply that I forgot where we were.
Back at the resort just before sunset, we took long showers together—warm water, soft soap, and her body pressed against mine in the glass cubicle. We kissed under the water, slow and wet, my hands feeling every curve of her perfect body.
That night, we dressed up. She wore a stunning silky black dress with a deep neckline, her hair falling in loose waves down her back. I wore a crisp linen shirt. We walked to the resort’s candlelit beach restaurant; the sky streaked with indigo and orange.
Dinner was spectacular: grilled lobster, white wine, small bites between kisses. She kept her heels off and let her toes dig into the sand. I fed her chocolate-dipped strawberries from the dessert platter, licking the chocolate off her lips after each bite.
We didn’t speak much; it was all in the eyes, in the subtle touches under the table, in the way she leaned in to whisper something sweet in my ear. She was everything.
After dinner, we took a walk down the shore. The moon was high, and the water was cool around our ankles. I stopped walking, turned to her, and kissed her under the stars. The kind of kiss that makes the world spin slower.
Back in our suite, the bed was freshly made, candles lit around the room, and rose petals refreshed. We didn’t even turn on the lights. She climbed onto the bed, slowly, looking at me over her shoulder. I followed her. My hands explored her body with the reverence of a man who had found heaven. She sighed as I kissed her thighs, then her stomach, then her lips, over and over again.
We didn’t rush. I made love to her with the moonlight pouring in through the windows and the faint sound of the waves. She clung to me like I was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. We whispered things to each other, tender words between each kiss and breathless moan. We then stayed in each other’s arms with our bodies tangled together and the sounds of crashing waves soothing us to sleep.
I woke up to her humming softly in the bathroom. She always did that—humming little tunes while brushing her hair or applying perfume, and I swear it made me fall in love with her all over again. I sat up in bed, watching her silhouette move behind the frosted glass as morning sunlight poured in through the open balcony doors.
“Good morning, sailor,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Sailor?”
I winked. “You’ll see.”
After a quick breakfast on the terrace—freshly baked manakeesh, figs, and watermelon juice—we packed our bags and headed down to the marina. She wore a flowy white cover-up over a green bikini and a wide straw hat that made her look like a vintage movie star. I couldn’t stop staring at her.
When we arrived, there it was: a sleek private yacht waiting for just the two of us.
She looked at me with wide eyes. “You planned this?”
“Only the best for my girl,” I said, pulling her close.
The captain greeted us with a smile, handed us both a glass of chilled champagne, and within minutes, we were sailing into the open sea, leaving El Gouna’s coast behind us.
The sea was calm, glittering like melted sapphire under the sun. She leaned against the railing, her hair flying in the breeze. I stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, my lips brushing against her ear.
“This is perfect,” she whispered.
We spent the late morning sunbathing on the front deck, just the two of us stretched out on cushioned lounge beds, listening to “Funk Wave Bounces Vol. 1,” one of our favorite summer albums. She slid her bikini straps off to avoid tan lines, and I could barely focus on anything else but the sight of her skin glowing in the sunlight.
After a while, we took a dip together—diving into the open sea, the water cool and crystal clear. She wrapped her arms around my neck, floating in the water, her legs hooked around my waist. We kissed in the ocean like we were the only two people in the world.
Back on the yacht, towels wrapped around us, we had a light lunch prepared by the crew: seafood skewers, fruit platters, and soft pastries. She fed me strawberries and laughed when I accidentally got cream on my nose.
“Let me clean that,” she said, licking it off playfully before planting a slow kiss.
Later in the afternoon, the captain anchored the yacht in a private cove where the water was turquoise and the coast hidden by rocky cliffs. The crew discreetly left us alone for a while.
We lay in the shaded cabin, windows open, the sounds of water lapping and seagulls above. I kissed her collarbone, my hands slowly sliding beneath her bikini. She moaned softly, her body melting into mine.
I undressed her slowly, carefully, tasting the salt of her skin. She wrapped her legs around me and whispered my name like it was a prayer. We made love on the velvet cushions, the boat gently rocking beneath us, her back arching as the sunlight filtered through the windows in golden slants. Every movement was slow, every moan more sacred than the last.
Afterward, we just held each other, tangled up, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing little hearts across my skin.
As the sun began to set, we returned to the deck with two glasses of rosé. The sky burned in hues of amber and lilac, and she sat between my legs, her back against my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
“I never want to leave this boat,” she whispered.
“I never want to leave you,” I replied, pressing my lips to her temple.
When the yacht finally docked back at the marina, it felt like waking up from a beautiful dream. But even dreams couldn’t compare to what we had.
That night, we kept it simple—ordering room service and eating in robes on the terrace. She lit candles, played soft jazz from her phone, and pulled me up for a slow dance under the stars.
“I love you,” she said against my lips.
“I love you even more,” I murmured back, meaning it with everything I had.
Later, as she lay curled beside me in bed, I whispered, “Let’s never stop making days like this.”
She smiled in her sleep.
I woke up early, earlier than I usually would on vacation. The room was still dim, wrapped in the soft hush of dawn. I turned over to find her sleeping soundly, one hand under her cheek, the other resting across my chest. Her breathing was slow, rhythmic, peaceful. I kissed the top of her head and slipped out of bed quietly.
Outside, the sky was just starting to shift from deep blue to soft pastel pinks. I stepped onto the terrace and breathed in the morning sea air, watching the first light glisten across the water. She joined me not long after, barefoot, her arms wrapped around my waist from behind, her lips brushing my shoulder. “You’re up early,” she said sleepily.
“I didn’t want to miss this,” I replied, turning to hold her. “I wanted to watch the sunrise with you but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
So we stood there wrapped in each other as the sun rose, warm and golden, spilling light across the sea below. She leaned her head against my chest, and we didn’t say a word for a long time.
After breakfast, I asked her to change into something light and flowy. She wore this soft yellow dress that made her look like summer itself.
We walked down to the resort entrance where a small electric buggy waited for us. I had planned something special: a private beach picnic in one of the secluded bays just outside El Gouna. The resort had prepared a basket for us—fresh baguettes, cheeses, fruit, cold drinks, and her favorite chocolate-covered strawberries.
When we arrived, the spot was perfect. A wide stretch of sand, calm turquoise water, and not a soul in sight. I laid down the blanket, helped her off with her sandals, and we both ran barefoot into the sea, laughing like teenagers. She splashed me, and I chased her through the water, finally catching her and lifting her in my arms as she squealed and giggled, her wet hair clinging to her back.
We swam, lay on the blanket to dry under the sun. I played “I Follow Rivers (The Magician Remix)” by Lykke Li and fed each other bites of peach and grapes. She placed her head on my lap, looking up at me.
“I love these quiet moments with you,” she said.
“I do too,” I replied. “It’s in these still moments that I fall even deeper.”
After we ate, we lay side by side under the umbrella, the waves a soft lull in the background. I played with her fingers as she rested her head on my chest.
“We should do this every year,” she said softly. “Make this our thing… get away just for us, to reset and fall in love all over again.”
I turned to her. “Every year. Every summer. Every chance I get, I want to take you away somewhere beautiful.”
She smiled, her eyes glassy with emotion. “You really think we’ll have all this time together?”
I brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I don’t just think so. I know so.”
And then we kissed, slow and deep, with the kind of love that lives in your bones. We stayed on the beach until the sun began its slow descent into the sea.
As the golden light spread across the sky, she leaned back on her elbows; the wind lifting her hair. I crawled over to her, gently kissed her shoulder, and slowly pulled down the straps of her dress.
“Here?” she whispered.
I nodded. “No one’s around.”
I made love to her on the warm sand, the picnic blanket beneath us, the sound of the sea all around. Her legs wrapped around me, her back arching as I moved inside her slowly, lovingly, like we were writing poetry with our bodies. The sunset bathed her skin in light, and in that moment, she looked almost unreal like a vision.
When she came, she buried her face in my neck, whispering my name like it was the only word she remembered. I held her afterward for a long time, both of us covered in the warmth of sand and each other.
We got back to the hotel just as twilight deepened the sky. She showered first while I cleaned up the remnants of sand in our bags. When she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair was damp, and she wore one of my t-shirts with nothing underneath. I pulled her onto the bed and kissed her forehead, then her lips.
We spent the rest of the night in bed—not making love again, not watching TV and just talking about everything and nothing. About the silly things we’d do together. About where we’d travel next.
I told her I wanted to marry her one day. She cried. Not because she was surprised. But because I think, in that moment, she believed it more than ever.
I woke up the next morning to her lying beside me, one leg draped over mine, her fingers lazily running through my hair. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the sky was already starting to blush. She looked at me with that sleepy softness in her eyes that made my heart melt.
“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.
I kissed her forehead. “Then let’s make today count. Just you and me. Every second.”
We stayed in bed for a while, cuddled under the light sheets, just enjoying the warmth of each other. I traced slow, gentle circles on her back while she nuzzled her face into my neck, breathing in deep like she was trying to memorize me.
We started our day with something luxurious—a couples spa session at the resort’s serene wellness centre. The room was quiet except for the sound of soft music and trickling water. Candlelight flickered along the walls, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla filled the air. We held hands as two therapists began our side-by-side massages, warm oils melting into our skin, every knot and tension from the past week slowly disappearing.
I glanced at her face through half-closed eyes—her lips parted slightly, her eyes closed, the faintest smile curling at the corners. Even in this moment of stillness, she looked divine.
After the massage, we were led to a private plunge pool surrounded by greenery. We sat in the warm water, sipping herbal tea, legs tangled together, her head resting on my shoulder.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” she murmured.
“You are,” I said, kissing the side of her head. “And I’m right here with you.”
Back in the suite, we ordered a light lunch to our balcony—grilled sea bass, Egyptian salad, fresh juices—and ate slowly under the shade of the pergola, the view of the sea sparkling endlessly in front of us. She sat on my lap afterward, her arms wrapped around my neck, and we just rocked gently in the hanging chair overlooking the water. No rush. No noise. Just two lovers suspended in time.
Later, we lay on the bed and read to each other—taking turns, laughing, stealing kisses between paragraphs. At one point, she rested her head on my stomach and said, “Let’s never let anything take this away from us.”
I promised her we wouldn’t.
As the sun began to lower, the hotel arranged a private candlelit dinner for us on the beach. A table set just for two under a canopy of gauze and fairy lights, with pillows instead of chairs and soft lanterns casting golden shadows on the sand.
She wore this silky peach dress that shimmered in the light, her hair loose and glowing from the breeze. I couldn’t stop staring.
“You’re breathtaking,” I said as I took her hand.
She smiled and leaned in. “Then breathe me in.”
Dinner was dreamy. We toasted with some white wine and laughed over shared memories. We held hands across the table the entire time. Every dish felt like it had been cooked just for us, fragrant, warm, and full of flavor.
After dessert, we kicked off our shoes and walked barefoot along the shoreline. She pulled me toward the water, splashing me playfully, and I chased her, finally wrapping her in my arms as we fell onto the sand, wet and laughing.
Back in the suite, we lit some candles and let the terrace doors stay open so we could hear the ocean. The room was bathed in amber light. She stood by the open window, the wind toying with her hair and the thin silk of her nightgown.
I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and rested my chin on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded slowly. “I’m just… full. Of love. Of everything.”
We made love slowly that night. No rush. No urgency. Just us, trying to say everything our mouths couldn’t with every touch, every breath, every movement. She cried softly as we lay in bed afterward, tucked into each other. “It’s not sadness,” she whispered. “It’s just… I’ve never felt so close to someone before.”
And I held her tighter, my lips brushing her temple. “I’m never letting go,” I said. “Not now. Not ever.”
The soft light of dawn filtered in through the sheer white curtains, and I woke to the sound of gentle waves crashing just beyond our balcony. She was still asleep beside me, curled against my chest, her hair a tangle of softness across the pillow. I stayed still, just watching her breath slow, steady, peaceful.
There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. I didn’t want this to end. But I also knew… this wasn’t the end. This was one of those moments we’d return to, again and again, in quiet smiles and shared glances. We had lived something unforgettable here—something that didn’t disappear when we left. It became part of us.
I kissed her forehead softly, and she stirred with a little smile.
“Mmm… what time is it?” she asked, her voice drowsy and sweet.
“Still early,” I whispered. “I just wanted to watch you a little longer.”
She stretched and nestled closer, wrapping her leg around mine. “Let’s stay like this forever.”
“I wish we could,” I said, brushing her hair back. “But we’ll bring forever with us.”
We showered together slowly, taking our time. Her fingers ran across my skin as if she was memorizing every part of me all over again. We dressed quietly, both knowing it was almost time to leave, but neither of us wanted to break the bubble.
Room service brought breakfast to our balcony: croissants, eggs, strawberries, and fresh orange juice. The sky was painted in soft watercolor tones, the sea calm and infinite in the background.
She fed me strawberries and leaned her head on my shoulder. “This place… this whole week… it feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.”
“It’s not a dream,” I said, kissing her cheek. “We made this real. And we’re taking it with us.”
We toasted with our juice glasses—a quiet promise to hold on to the magic even when we were back in the real world.
We packed slowly, every item folded with care. She lingered with her hands on the edge of the bed, looking around the suite like she was trying to etch it into her memory.
“I’m not ready,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said, coming up behind her. “But we’ll be back. This is just the beginning.”
We took one last walk down to the beach, barefoot again, hand in hand. The sand was still cool from the night before; the wind soft and salty.
“I want to remember how this feels,” she said, squeezing my hand.
I pulled her close and kissed her slowly, deeply, right there on the shore. “Me too, baby. Every second of it.”
The car ride back was quieter than usual. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her fingers interlaced with mine, our playlist humming softly through the speakers. Occasionally, we’d look at each other and smile, that kind of smile only people in love understand—like a secret, shared language.
“We have something really special,” she said softly.
“I know,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips. “And we’re just getting started.”
Back home, the rhythm of the city wrapped itself around us again. Traffic, work, schedules, people. But something was different; we were different. Every time I looked at her, I saw the shimmer of the Red Sea in her eyes. Every time we kissed, I felt the sun-drenched breeze of El Gouna on her skin. The laughter, the silence, the way we made love under the stars—it stayed with us. We didn’t just go on a trip. We lived a love story that carved its way into our souls.
And one night, as we lay in bed in the house, her body curled into mine, she whispered something that made my heart race.
“So… where are we going in August?”
I smiled in the dark, kissed her bare shoulder, and whispered, “Let’s plan the most romantic week of our lives.”
“Okay,” I said, nudging her thigh gently. “So we’ve done June in Hurghada, July in El Gouna… August has to be the cherry on top. Where do you want to go, honey?”
She looked up from her phone, eyes lighting up. “Somewhere even more magical… more private, more luxurious. I want it to feel like we’re the only two people in the world again.”
“I like that,” I said, brushing my hand up and down her leg. “We could go south again. What about Sharm El Sheikh?”
Her face softened instantly. “Ooh… yes. I’ve always wanted to stay somewhere with our own beachfront villa. Waking up, opening the doors, and stepping right onto the sand.”
I smiled. “Okay. Let’s find the perfect spot.” I pulled up a few tabs on my laptop and started reading reviews and watching videos of different luxury beachfront resorts. She slid over beside me, tucking her legs under her and leaning her head on my shoulder.
We considered a few places—Four Seasons, Rixos, Baron Palms—all stunning. But then we saw “Steigenberger Resort Ras Soma” on a list of top romantic escapes in Egypt. Even though it wasn’t in Sharm, we paused for a long moment, scrolling through images of its honeymoon villas. There it was: a beachfront villa with a private garden, a huge shaded terrace, its own private pool, and direct access to the beach, just steps away from the calm, glittering Red Sea.
I turned to her. “It’s not in Sharm. But this… this looks like our place.”
She leaned closer, her eyes dreamy. “It’s perfect. Quiet. Romantic. Private. The view, the sea, the way the villa opens up to the beach…”
“And we can take long swims before breakfast,” I added. “And have candlelit dinners on the terrace. Or stay in bed all morning just watching the sea from that big bed.”
She kissed me slowly, fingers lacing into mine. “Let’s do it, baby. Let’s make August ours.”
So just like that, we booked it. One full week at Steigenberger Ras Soma, in their most exclusive beachfront villa. It was our way of closing the summer with something unforgettable—something that would make us feel even closer than we already were.
We both sat back on the couch, smiling like kids who had just planned a secret escape. “Three months, three destinations,” I said. “And you. Always you.”
She kissed my neck and whispered, “Forever, baby.”
And finally, the long-awaited week arrived, and we headed to Soma Bay.
The sun was already high in the sky when we pulled up to the gates of Steigenberger Resort Ras Soma, after a smooth and scenic drive from Cairo along the Red Sea coast. As soon as the car stopped, a warm, salty breeze rolled in, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of the sea. We stepped out into the soft hum of palm trees and distant waves.
She stood there beside me in a flowing white linen dress, sunglasses on, a wide straw hat shading her face. The way the fabric danced around her ankles in the breeze made her look like a painting come to life. I reached over, took her hand in mine, and she smiled—that quiet, glowing smile that always melted me.
“Ready for paradise, baby?” I asked.
“With you? Always.”
We were greeted at the entrance with cool towels, a tray of chilled hibiscus drinks, and a private golf cart waiting to take us straight to our beachfront honeymoon villa. As we cruised past lush gardens and infinity pools, she leaned into me, placing her hand on my thigh, already feeling the magic of this place.
Then we arrived. The villa. It was more than I had imagined. A private pathway led us through a shaded gate and into our own secluded paradise.
There was a large sun-kissed terrace with soft loungers, an outdoor pool beside a bed of fragrant white flowers, and just beyond it—our own slice of private beach. No people. Just golden sand, a pair of teak loungers with a thatched umbrella, and the soft, endless blue of the Red Sea.
Inside, it was just as breath-taking. Elegant interiors bathed in soft beige and cream tones, floor-to-ceiling glass doors, a massive bed facing the terrace, and a bathtub so big it looked like a mini pool. We stood there in silence for a few seconds, soaking it all in. Then she turned to me, eyes sparkling.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind as we stared at the incredible view in front of us.
We changed quickly into swimsuits—she wore this sky-blue two-piece that hugged her curves in all the right ways. I honestly had to take a moment just to admire her. She blushed when she caught me staring, but didn’t stop me when I walked over and slid my hands around her waist, kissing the bare skin on her shoulder.
We stepped outside and walked on the soft sand to the water. It was warm, impossibly clear, and gently lapping at the shore. We swam hand in hand, floated side by side, kissed in the water like we were the only people on Earth.
After drying off, we lounged on our beach chairs, sipping on Piña Coladas and sharing bites of tropical fruit. She rested her head on my chest and traced circles on my stomach as we watched the soft waves curl and break just a few feet away.
By 5:30, the colours began to change. That golden, burning hour had arrived, casting long shadows and painting everything in deep oranges and purples. We took a walk along the shoreline, feet wet, bodies close. She kept leaning into me and resting her head on my shoulder, and I kept kissing the top of her head again and again.
“I wish time could just freeze,” she whispered.
“It has. Right here, with you.”
We came back to the villa just as the sun began to kiss the horizon. The entire sky turned shades of fire and rose, and the sea mirrored every hue. We opened the terrace doors wide and pulled back the curtains.
That massive bed was waiting. We climbed onto it together, half-dressed, our bodies still warm from the sun. She straddled me slowly, brushing the tips of her fingers over my chest, her eyes fixed on mine with so much love, so much hunger.
She pushed me gently onto the bed and got down on her knees. “I’ve been wanting to suck it all day long,” she said, looking straight into my eyes, and she kept sucking on my dick like a popsicle while still keeping eye contact and it wasn’t long before I couldn’t hold it any longer and came all over her face. And she kept sucking even after I came, making sure that she swallowed every last drop of my cum. Then she licked her fingers after wiping the cum on her face with them.
I then flipped her over on the bed and started kissing her while my hand made its way to her thighs and started feeling all over it until it landed on her glorious pussy, and then I started playing with it with my fingers and then inserted them slowly, then picked up the pace bit by bit until she squirted all over the towel, and that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted her to cum a lot, so I kept going and she kept cumming until she almost fainted.
“Fuck! Damn, baby, I felt like I lost control of my body. Now I see why you laid that towel under me.” And she kept kissing me all around my face. “The feelings you make me feel, baby, I never even knew I could feel them before I met you, my love,” she said while staring into my eyes.
“You deserve it all, baby. You’re so special, and every day, every moment, I just realize how blessed I am for having you. You know, sometimes I begin to imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you, and how miserable it’d have been,” I said.
“Oh baby, I’m so blessed for having you. You know, I also sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t choose to live in the apartment next to you. I remember I saw a lot of apartments, but this one had this really great vibe, and something inside me just kept telling me it’s the right one, and it absolutely was.”
We kept hugging and kissing so slowly and romantically.
Later that night, room service delivered a private dinner on the terrace—grilled lobster, creamy risotto, and chilled wine. We ate in robes, barefoot, wrapped in blankets under the stars.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this peaceful,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder.
I kissed her forehead and said, “It’s only Day One.”
We curled up in bed again, her body tucked perfectly into mine, the sound of the sea like a lullaby. She fell asleep with her hand on my chest, and I stayed awake for a while, just watching her, the curve of her cheek, the rise and fall of her breath, the little smile she wore even in sleep. I closed my eyes and thought: This. This is heaven.
I woke up the next day with the soft weight of her draped across me, one of her legs tangled around mine, her cheek resting on my shoulder. The early light of morning painted golden lines across her bare back, and I just lay there, completely still, watching her breathe. She looked like peace incarnate.
I gently brushed her hair off her face, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She smiled sleepily, that lazy, breath-taking morning smile I’d come to crave.
“Good morning, my love,” I whispered against her lips.
She stretched, her body brushing along mine under the sheets, and whispered back, “Good morning, honey.”
We stayed in bed a little longer, wrapped up in each other, kissing softly, hands wandering, not rushed, just connected. The mood was slow, warm, full of love and lingering desire from the night before.
Eventually, we slipped out of bed and into our robes, and just as we stepped out onto the terrace, a butler arrived with our floating breakfast, a tray set inside a large, floating bamboo basket with fresh fruit, omelets, pancakes, croissants, and two glasses of cold mango juice. He placed it gently into the private plunge pool outside the villa.
She squealed softly with delight, “This is amazing. This is like… honeymoon.”
We stepped into the water, laughing and feeding each other bites of fruit and sips of juice, surrounded by birdsong and the scent of the sea. At one point, she sat in my lap, wet and smiling, a piece of mango between her fingers, teasing it against my lips before kissing me slow and deep.
Later, we headed to the spa, just a short walk away through palm-shaded paths. We had booked a couple’s massage in a private beach cabana, and it was better than either of us expected, with soft oils, slow strokes, and the rhythmic sound of the sea just meters away. We held hands through most of it, eyes closed, completely lost in the sensation.
By early afternoon, it was time for something more adventurous. We changed into our swimsuits and met our private guide near the pier, where a small luxury boat was waiting to take us out for a snorkeling experience in the coral reefs just offshore.
We held hands as we glided out into deeper turquoise waters, wind rushing past us. The crew anchored near a secluded reef, and we slipped into the water together, masks on, fingers interlaced even as we floated. The moment we dipped our heads below, the world transformed. Bright corals, swaying sea fans, schools of neon-colored fish swirling around us like confetti. We swam close, occasionally bumping shoulders or brushing feet underwater, laughing through our snorkels.
At one point, she pointed excitedly at a curious little clownfish peeking out from a sea anemone, then turned to me and gave me the underwater version of a kiss while her mask gently tapped against mine.
When we surfaced and climbed back on board, dripping and breathless, I pulled her into my lap and wrapped a towel around both of us. We shared warm tea as the sun glinted off her wet skin, and I kissed the water from her shoulders.
Back at the villa, we showered together in a slow, teasing shower with her back pressed against my chest as I kissed her neck and whispered how beautiful she looked swimming in the sea.
That evening, I had a surprise planned. Just before sunset, she followed the flickering path of lanterns I had arranged down the beach, where a private dinner table had been set directly on the sand, just for us. Candles flickered in glass domes, and the sky exploded in shades of crimson and lavender.
She gasped. “Did you do this for me?”
“For us,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Dinner was grilled sea bass, lemony risotto, and chilled white wine. We dined barefoot, the warm sand between our toes, the sea just meters away. We talked for hours, laughed, toasted to each other and the memories we were creating.
When dessert came—a warm chocolate fondant with raspberries—I fed her the first bite and kissed the chocolate from the corner of her mouth. She giggled and leaned in to kiss me slow and sweet, and I couldn’t resist slipping my hand up her thigh under the tablecloth.
We walked back to the villa slowly, hand in hand, the stars beginning to bloom across the sky. Inside, we opened all the doors so the sea breeze could wash through. She lit a few candles around the bathtub, and we slipped into the warm water together. She sat in my lap, arms around my neck, her forehead pressed to mine as we talked about nothing and everything—our dreams, our next trips, how lucky we felt. We made love again, slow and submerged, steam rising into the night as the waves crashed softly in the distance.
We dried off and curled up naked in bed, wrapped in soft sheets and each other, the moonlight spilling across her bare shoulder.
“I never want this to end,” she whispered sleepily.
“It doesn’t have to,” I murmured. “As long as I have you.”
I woke the next morning before she did. The room was still dim, kissed by the earliest blue of dawn. She was curled into me, her face tucked into my chest, her leg warm and draped over my waist. The sheets were tangled, her hair even more so, and I smiled just watching her breathe.
I didn’t want to move—didn’t want to disturb the quiet spell the morning had cast—so I held her tighter and kissed her forehead gently. Eventually, her lashes fluttered open, and her sleepy smile lit up everything.
“Good morning, love,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to do anything today. I just want you, here, with me. That’s the only plan.”
She smiled wider and nuzzled closer, her bare skin warming against mine under the sheets. “That sounds perfect.”
We ordered breakfast in bed—warm croissants, creamy cheese, honeycomb, fresh orange juice, and her favorite eggs with perfectly toasted sourdough. The butler wheeled it in on a white-linen cart and left silently. We ate wrapped in sheets, feeding each other, occasionally pausing for slow kisses and lazy laughter.
Later, she slipped into her tiny lavender bikini—the one that made me forget how to breathe—and we stepped out onto the villa’s private terrace. The pool shimmered like liquid sapphire under the rising sun. She dipped her toes in, then turned to me with a wicked smile. “Coming in?”
I didn’t need a second invitation.
We swam slowly, floating side by side, sometimes holding hands underwater, sometimes splashing and laughing like kids. At one point, she climbed onto a pool float and stretched out, her sunglasses on, her skin glowing golden. I watched her from the water—the way her body curved, how the sunlight played along her thighs—and felt like I was watching art. Eventually, I joined her on the float, and we drifted together, tangled in each other, half-asleep to the sound of the sea breeze and our own heartbeats.
The rest of the afternoon passed in the dreamiest blur. We lay on the sunbeds wrapped in soft towels, sipping cold lemonade the butler had left in a glass jug. I rubbed sunscreen onto her back, trailing my fingers a little slower than necessary. She turned over, stretched, and pulled me down for a kiss, her hands slipping under my shirt.
Later, we moved to the shade—a soft outdoor daybed tucked behind sheer white curtains fluttering in the breeze. We lay there, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her bare stomach. We talked about our favorite memories from the last few months, about what life could look like together in a year. She spoke in that quiet, intimate voice she only used when we were alone. I memorized every word.
As the sun began to set, we rinsed off in the villa’s open-air shower—the water warm, cascading over us as we kissed beneath the open sky. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her wet body pressed to mine, and I felt every part of her like it was the first time. We didn’t rush. We kissed slowly, lips and water and heat blending into something sacred.
When we stepped out, the sky had ignited in orange and pink. We wrapped ourselves in towels and sat at the edge of the pool, side by side, feet in the water, watching the sun disappear behind the sea.
She leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered, “This feels like a movie.”
I turned to her. “No… movies aren’t this beautiful.”
She kissed me then—slow and lingering—as the last light melted away.
Dinner was light—a mezze platter with grilled shrimp, olives, and bread, delivered right to the terrace. We didn’t say much—we didn’t need to. Everything was in our eyes, our smiles, the way we touched.
Later, we lit candles around the room, played soft music, and made love on the bed—slow, deep, and endlessly tender. She rode me with the sea breeze brushing against her skin, her hair falling around her face, and I was feeling every inch of her perfect body while the candlelight flickering like stars in her eyes. Afterward, we lay tangled in sheets and each other, her hand on my chest, my arm around her waist.
I woke up early again, but this time, the soft sound of waves was louder, calling us outside. She was still asleep beside me, peaceful and perfect in the morning light. I watched her for a moment, memorizing every curve, every breath. I slipped out quietly, pulled on my shorts, and stepped onto the villa’s balcony. The air was fresh, salty, and cool—exactly what I needed to start the day right. I took a deep breath and smiled, thinking about how lucky I was to have this moment, this woman, this life.
When she finally opened her eyes, I was already back inside, packing a picnic basket with all her favorite things: fresh strawberries, creamy brie, warm baguette bread, homemade hummus, juicy grilled chicken skewers, and a chilled bottle of sparkling rosé.
Her eyes lit up when I presented it. “You planned this?”
“Every detail,” I grinned, pulling her close. “Come on, I want us to have the beach all to ourselves.”
We took a short walk down a private path from the villa, leading directly to a quiet stretch of beach where the golden sand met the gentle waves. I spread out a soft blanket under the shade of a lone palm tree, and we sank into the warm sand together.
We ate slowly, savoring the food and each other. She laughed when I fed her a piece of strawberry, and I kissed the juice off her lips, tasting sweet summer and something infinitely hers. We talked about our dreams, silly childhood stories, plans for the future.
Afterward, I couldn’t resist pulling her into the shallow water, where we splashed and chased each other like teenagers. Her laughter was my favorite sound, pure and free. When the sun got higher, we retreated to the blanket, lying side by side, letting the sea breeze cool our sun-warmed skin.
The afternoon stretched luxuriously. We dozed and whispered, skin glowing in the sun, fingers tracing lazy patterns on each other’s arms and legs. Sometimes I’d catch her staring at me with those deep eyes, and I’d pull her into a kiss so soft it made her shiver. I couldn’t get enough of her—every inch, every smile, every sigh.
As the day leaned toward evening, we walked hand in hand along the shore, our feet sinking into the cool wet sand, waves licking around our ankles. The sky was a masterpiece—fiery oranges, soft pinks, and deep purples melting into the horizon.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I never want this to end.”
“Me neither,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “But if it ever has to, I’ll carry this day inside me forever.”
We stopped and faced each other, the last sun warming our skin. I pulled her close, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and kissed her slowly—deep and full of everything I felt but couldn’t put into words.
Back at the villa, dinner was light and fragrant—a fresh seafood platter and tropical fruits. We ate on the terrace under the stars, with the sounds of the night sea around us.
Afterward, we lay back on the big cushioned daybed, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the constellations twinkle above.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more,” I said, kissing her forehead.
And under that vast, beautiful sky, I knew this trip, this love, was exactly where we were meant to be.
The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as I woke up wrapped around her warmth. I watched her sleep for a moment, the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her smile even in dreams. I couldn’t help but reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear before slipping quietly out of bed.
We had planned to explore the vibrant underwater world together, and after a light breakfast of fresh fruit and coffee on the balcony, we headed to the resort’s private beach where our guide was waiting with the snorkeling gear.
The water was breath-taking, clear, warm, and teeming with colorful fish darting through coral reefs. Holding her hand underwater, watching her eyes widen as she marveled at the beauty around us, made my heart pound. She looked radiant beneath the surface, her hair floating like a halo around her face.
We swam side by side, occasionally brushing shoulders or stealing a quick kiss through our masks, sharing this magical secret world. At one point, she wrapped her arms around me in a spontaneous underwater hug, and I felt an electric jolt run through me—this connection, this closeness, was everything.
Back at the villa, we dried off and changed into light clothes, then spent the afternoon lounging by our private pool. I watched her lean back in the sun, the light playing off her skin, the gentle breeze teasing the loose strands of hair around her face.
We talked softly, occasionally stealing kisses, until the heat gave way to a cooler evening. I poured us both glasses of chilled wine, and we toasted to us, to the love, the adventure, and the beautiful moments still ahead.
As twilight settled, I stepped into the villa’s kitchen to prepare something special. The resort had arranged for fresh local seafood and fine ingredients, and I was determined to make this dinner unforgettable. Candles flickered softly around the dining area, casting a warm, golden glow. The table was set with delicate flowers and crystal glasses, everything perfect.
She entered the room wearing a simple silk dress that hugged her curves, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. I pulled her close, my hands resting gently on her waist.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” I whispered, kissing her neck.
The meal was a sensual feast, grilled lobster, garlic butter prawns, and a fresh salad bursting with flavors. Between bites, we fed each other little tastes, laughing and savoring the moment. Our conversation drifted from silly jokes to whispered dreams, the kind of talk that feels like a promise.
After dinner, we moved to the terrace, where soft cushions and blankets waited. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we gazed out over the sea, the moonlight dancing on the waves. I traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulders, feeling her sigh against my chest. She tilted her head up for a kiss, slow and tender, every touch filled with desire and affection.
The night deepened, and we moved back inside to the round bed, the curtains billowing softly with the breeze. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word was an expression of the love and passion that had grown between us. I made sure she felt treasured, adored, and completely safe in my arms as we melted into each other, the world outside fading away until there was only us.
The soft rustle of the sea breeze whispered through the open curtains as the golden light of dawn kissed her skin. I lay beside her, just watching. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, her lips slightly parted, her body still tangled with mine beneath the sheets. She looked like a dream I never wanted to wake from.
I leaned in, brushing a kiss on her shoulder, then another just below her ear. She stirred with a sleepy smile, eyes fluttering open.
“Good morning, baby,” I whispered.
She turned and curled into me, her hand resting over my heart. “I wish we could stay here forever,” she murmured.
I kissed her forehead. “Let’s make today feel like forever.”
Instead of rushing out, we spent the morning in bed just being with each other. Our movements were slow, tender. We made love with quiet passion, our bodies knowing each other so deeply now that even silence spoke volumes. Afterward, we lay tangled together, legs and arms intertwined, whispering memories of the trip, our favorite moments, how lucky we felt. She rested her head on my chest, tracing slow circles on my skin with her fingertips. I could feel her heart beating with mine.
When we finally got up, we ordered room service and had breakfast on the sun-drenched balcony, freshly baked croissants, honey-drizzled fruit, and strong coffee. We sat close, our knees touching, feeding each other pieces of melon and laughing as the wind played with her hair.
We spent a few final hours on the beach. The resort had arranged a private shaded cabana just for us, soft cushions, a chilled bottle of white wine, and a picnic basket full of delicious bites: grilled chicken skewers, dips, cheeses, berries.
She looked so effortlessly stunning in her white sundress and big sunhat, her skin glowing in the sunlight. I couldn’t stop staring.
“You’re dangerously beautiful today,” I said, stealing a kiss as she fed me a grape.
We swam one last time, floating side by side in the warm sea, holding hands and watching the clouds move slowly across the sky. Then we lay back in the sand, just wrapped in each other’s arms, our bodies warm, our hearts quiet and full.
Back at the villa, we showered together, washing the salt and sand from each other’s skin like a ritual. We took our time getting ready, neither of us speaking much we didn’t need to. The silence was full of understanding.
Before we packed our last things, we stood together on the balcony one more time. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden path across the sea. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her close.
“I’ll never forget this week,” I said softly into her ear. “Every single second with you was magic.”
She turned to face me, her eyes glossy with emotion. “I’ve never felt more loved… more alive,” she whispered.
We kissed slowly, as if trying to hold on to the moment forever.
Dinner that night was quiet and cozy. We didn’t go out, we didn’t want to share our last night with anyone else. We lit candles in the villa, played soft jazz, and shared a simple meal. But everything felt more intense—each touch, each glance, each bite.
After we finished, I took her hand and pulled her to the round bed. No words. Just soft music and moonlight filtering through the windows. We undressed each other slowly. She climbed on top, her hair falling around my face as we kissed deeply. We made love with aching sweetness, like it was both the first time and the last. Her hands were everywhere, my face, my chest, my neck like she was memorizing me. And I did the same. Afterward, she curled into me under the covers, and I held her close, my chin resting on her head, drifting off to sleep.
We woke early and quietly. No rush. No stress. Just slow movements and soft smiles. As we checked out and walked to the car, she held my hand tightly, not letting go even as we settled into the car.
As we pulled away, I looked back at the villa one more time, already missing it, but not as much as I knew I’d miss the way she made that place feel like paradise. But we weren’t saying goodbye to magic—we were bringing it back home with us.