Morocco Holiday Sex

Young Gay couple save up to have a romantic holiday together in Morocco. The plan is to look at the sights and the country. As a loyal couple, little do they know the delights that await when some of the local Arabs introduce them to things they like to do to Western sandy-haired young men.

Craig Richards and Mark Williams were the perfect gay couple. They had been together 5 years and had stayed together for 3 years. At 25, Mark was the elder of the two. Standing 6 feet tall, he was slim with a dirty blonde hair and a slim, if not athletic body. More like the sort of guy that would model Levis. Craig was 21 and slightly smaller. His blonde-red hair was sandy and his build, was also slim. Neither were effeminate and could have been mistaken for brothers rather than lovers.

They didn't meet in a romantic location. A Gents toilet in Surrey is hardly romantic but from their first quick and urgent wank together, they had been in love. Craig was on his way home from school when he had stopped in to check the toilet his friends had said was "notorious" and the rest was history. Being 16 against Mark's 20, they had kept their meetings to once a week at Mark's flat on a Saturday and Mark had slowly shared his limited sexual knowledge until they knew what needed to be done to give them total enjoyment.

When the couple hit the gay scene, heads turned. Many tried to score with each and even both of them but they were all rebuffed. After a drunken party when Craig was 18 and Mark 22, they shared a taxi with another couple who invited them from drinks to their flat. They ended up in some mild sex fun but the pair of them were uncomfortable and it didn't get too far. The other couple were ecstatic just to have had the privilege of getting a grip at both erections the only ones in the scene to do so. They wasted no time in telling the tale in the bars.

Craig had a job with the local council in the Housing Department and Mark had a better paid job in Marketing which meant travelling up to London each day. It was worth it as the flat they now shared had increased seriously in value and they now had a pleasant if not over wealthy existence. They had been to Spain a couple of times and always enjoyed visiting the gay bars. The had discussed the possibility of sharing a partner or two while on holiday but it remained part of their sexual fantasy when Mark was fucking Craig, telling him about some imaginary Spaniard fucking him instead. It always brought them to a great climax.

So it was holiday planning time again. Mark had some friends at work that had been to Marrakech and said it was another world. The food and scenery were wonderful and the people, friendly. Though a Muslim country, there had not been a single bad word said to them the entire holiday. Language was a slight problem but Mark spoke a little French so figured this could be their dream holiday.

The plan was to fly Heathrow Casablanca Marrakech with Royal Air Maroc and stay at a nice luxury hotel (they picked the Sheraton). After 4 days, they would hire a car and drive up the Atlas mountains, taking the scenic route to the beach resort of Agadir renting a small apartment. They would have few days soaking up the sun and back to Marrakech for a few days before flying home. They did, of course, check the gay guides to see if there were any bars/coffee shops but the guides were a little inconclusive. It looked as though there was little structured gay scene so they would be having a romantic two weeks enjoying each other's company.

Marrakech was the stuff dreams are made of. It was like stepping back in time. The people were surprisingly friendly and the men extremely warm to two, tall, blonde young Europeans on their first visit. In fact the warmth was a little overpowering with guys fighting to be their guide. They sought refuge in the hotel and after catching some late afternoon sunbathing decided to dine in the hotel and perhaps take a walk afterwards to take in the sunset.

They walked down towards the centre of Marrakech and into the Jemma el Fna, the busy square in the town which hosts street traders by day and food stalls and entertainers by nights. The atmosphere was hypnotic. The sounds the smells and the people made them feel like complete aliens in this environment. They were accosted time and time again by those wishing to sell, to guide and judging by the times Craig's bottom was touched and rubbed, some had other intentions.

The guys had a great time, took in a coffee at one of the little cafes overlooking the square and noticed many young Arab boys watching them. Craig couldn't help but be slightly excited by the attention he was receiving. They started the walk home in the semi dark with only the street lights for company. It was still quite early, around 9.30 pm and the streets still had many people on them. The walk back to the hotel was about 25 minutes and was very pleasant in the balmy night air. As they passed a footpath, a young Arab boy, cycled up close and as he passed, he smiled at them. He was a stunningly attractive boy of undeterminable age. He could have been 18 or 19 as he was well built and dark. As they walked on, the realised he had stopped at the side of the road at an area with bushes off to the right. They were not deep bushes but the area was slightly quieter. Again, as they passed, he smiled. He gently rubbed the front of his jeans in the crotch area as the walked beside him.

A few minutes after passing, he again cycled past them but this time, took his bike off into the bushes. As the two guys drew level again, he was standing just inside the bushes with his cock out pretending to pee. His cock was semi-erect and endowed. In the half light it looked to be over 7 inches long which on such a small frame looked obscene buy very sexy. Mark went to walk on but Craig was fascinated. His limited promiscuity has made this scenario highly erotic and he grabbed Mark's arms asking him to wait and see what happened.

The young lad turned to face them, and gently pulled the front of his jeans down, pulling out his large balls. His cut dick sprung straight up at a 45 degree angle and he beckoned them over. Mark was reluctant but Craig was hot for this big Arab cock and went over. The young boy grabbed the back of Craig's head and forcibly pushed him down on his meat and rammed his cock in Craig's mouth not that he resisted much. Mark came over nervously. This was a main road into town and they were just at the side, visible to any passers-by. Craig was too far gone, slurping on the boy's meat. His cock was solid with a faint taste of urine. Craig came up for air and noticed that Mark has his cock out gently stroking it. The boy was fascinated by their uncut cocks and dropped down to take both cocks in his mouth, one at a time. He then stood up abruptly and turned Craig round making an attempt to fuck him. That broke the spell. There was no way they were having unprotected sex in semi-public in a North African country. He refused.

The lad shrugged his shoulders, pushed Craig back down as Mark looked on, and started face fucking him again. He suddenly gripped his cock, pulled it slightly out and fired a strong jet of warm cum partly in Craig's mouth, partly on his face and partly on the street. The cum shot out time and time again, probably about 8 or 9 jets hit him forcefully. Mark shot his load just watching. He handed Craig a tissue and took Craig's cock in his hand to bring him to a swift climax. As he turned round, the young lad had dressed and was standing with a great smile and his hand out.

"I think he wants his hands crossed with gold," said Craig.

Mark fumbled and handed the lad some notes which didn't seem enough as he pointed at a few more, took them and fled. The guys continued home slightly wobbly after that and had a stiff drink back at the hotel. Mark felt very guilty but Craig assured him saying it was just one of those little one off holiday things that are a bit of fun.

The next day was fully occupied with a horse and carriage trip around the town walls, a visit to the Jardin Majorelle, beautiful city centre gardens restored by Yves Saint Laurent and the Dar Si Said museum to look at the beautiful treasures within. An evening meal was booked at La Rotunda restaurant where they were taken and returned by car, thus avoiding any public contact.

They spent some time next day at the Menara gardens where many Moroccans go and young men swim in their little trunks trying to impress each other. Craig, once more noticed a lot of flashing smiles and large bulges on some very young lads. Mark was a little possessive and slightly jealous of the attention Craig was getting and their visit was cut short as they made their way down to the square and the souk to buy some gifts. Once more they were bombarded with the offer of guides and, just for the peace accepted one offer from a stunning young clean shaven late teenager dressed in traditional Arab white gown. The young man spoke excellent English and introduced himself as Nasir. He quickly had them absorbed into the souk and was very good value for money finding them some great souvenirs and throwing in some history as he went. Mark wanted some leather goods and after the initial introduction to a stall holder, he started the long bartering process while Craig stood outside with Nasir. Craig felt Nasir's hand brush lightly against the tight material of his cotton trousers. When he turned, he was met with a broad smile.

"You have a nice friend," he said, "Very handsome."

Craig smiled the affirmative.

Nasir's eyes travelled down to the front of his white robe to a point which stuck out where his erect cock was. He smiled again at Craig.

"You are both very handsome," he said.

"Thank you," stuttered Craig.

"I would like to fuck you," Nasir said without the slightest embarrassment.

At that Mark concluded the deal and innocently walked back to join them and the tour continued. Craig was slightly perturbed but also aroused. He had never had anyone inside him but Mark, however, the thought of a teenage Arab cock thrusting deep inside him made him very randy. They went to the square for coffee but Craig was too uncomfortable to tell Craig what had happened in case he was angry. When Nasir joined them again after talking to the coffee bar owners, they started discussing a trip up to the Atlas mountains in a hire car the following day with Nasir as guide.

"I will come to your hotel later today before dinner to make arrangements," he said. "Please tell reception who I am so that I will be allowed inside the complex."

They were back in the hotel in time for some late afternoon sunbathing and so lay by the pool having a cocktail or two. Mark was soon asleep in the sun and Craig decided to go back to the room to relax on the bed with the air conditioning on and perhaps an opportunity to relieve his building sexual tension. He draped himself with a towel and told Mark where he was going. As he entered their room, he heard his name called and turned to see Nasir walking towards him, still dressed in his white Arabic clothes.

"I have come to discuss tomorrow," he said.

"Craig heard the words," You had better come in then," come from somewhere and realised he had said it.

They walked into the cool room and Craig went to have a quick shower while Nasir sat on a chair and waited. Craig pulled a pair of tight boxers on and came through. Nasir looked at him and had obviously been playing with himself as his erection was pushing straight up under his robe. He called Craig over and stood up. He was tall at least 6 feet 3 inches. As Craig reached him he took his palm and placed it on Craig's head, pushing him down to his knees. Just as Craig knelt in front of him he lifted his white gown and covered Craig completely.

Craig found himself confronted by the biggest cut cock he had ever seen (not that he had seen many). This brute was around 9 inches long standing outwards and upwards above a pair of tight balls which looked obscenely small against it. The area was covered in dark hair. The cock was pushed quickly into his mouth and Craig automatically started sucking. Nasir grabbed his head through the cloth and rammed his dick forcefully in and out leaving Craig fighting for air. Hardly a word was said and all that could be heard was Craig's slurping and Nasir's heavy breathing.

Without any waning, Nasir, pulled back and blasted a load of cum in Craig's mouth and over his face. Craig had never seen so much cum. The volume was equal to two or even three men and his face was awash with it and it dripped down on to the tiled floor.

"Good," he said, "Next time I fuck you, now where is your friend."

"I need to shower again," Craig mumbled and pointed outside. Nasir went out. Craig licked the cum and rubbed some over his cock and balls gently wanking to bring himself to a cataclysmic climax with the flavour of Arabic cum trickling down his throat.

Nothing more was said, and an arrangement was made for the following day.

That night, Craig felt guilty and when Mark started to make love to him he began to fantasise out loud about Nasir. Mark was turned on and when they were near climax, Craig told him the story about the quick session in the afternoon. Mark blasted a thin stream of cum high in the air and, instead of being annoyed, seemed really turned on by the situation.

"Think I can watch," he asked Craig?

Craig was horrified, upset, excited and highly aroused.

"We can't- can we," he asked?

"Let's go prepared tomorrow, just in case," said Mark.

Well tomorrow came and Nasir was there at 9.00 am as arranged. However, much to the disappointment of the boys, he had company.

"This is Thaqib," said Nasir. He is a friend of my brother and knows the mountains well so he will come with us." "His name means shooting star."

The apparition standing beside Nasir was about 16, stunningly good looking with dazzling white teeth and well built but slim. He wore a white polo shirt and clean faded jeans which showed a well proportioned adolescent bulge in the front. His eyes were fixed on the boys as he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," he said in slightly stunted English.

"And you," both answered in unison. They climbed into the Suzuki 4 x 4 and headed out of Marrakech.

The trip was fun with Mark driving and Nasir alongside and Craig in the back with Thaqib. The roads were an adventure on their own. As they climbed into the mountains some areas were washed away with the rains and they had to mount the embankments to get passed. Young children stood at the side of the road trying to sell something that looked like limp lettuce but which was supposedly some kind of raw drug. The guides didn't volunteer the information so neither boy asked.

By 1.30 pm they were well into the mountains and turned up a rather desolate road to stop for the picnic lunch prepared by the hotel. Thankfully there was plenty for four and the boys quickly lay down a rug and opened the hamper. Flasks were filled with cold and hot drinks and there were sandwiches as well as some salad, cold roasted vegetables and some spicy cous cous, cold chicken and other unexplained delicacies.

After lunch, Nasir stood up and went over to some nearby bushes to piss. He made no attempt to cover himself as he lifted his white robes and just stood with his large member exposed to all. When he finished he turned to face them and smiled before shaking and dropping the robes.

He walked back over, looked straight at Craig and said, "You like?"

Craig looked at Mark, swallowed and nodded.

"Your friend is sexy," he said to Mark. "I like to fuck him."

Mark was embarrassed and turned to look at the young boy Thaqib but to his surprise, he was nodding enthusiastically. Nasir lifted Craig by the arms to an upright position and unclipped his shorts which dropped immediately to expose his white briefs. He pulled Craig's t-shirt over his head and left him standing near naked. Then he pulled his briefs down to expose Craig's pale naked body. Thaqib scampered across and sat beside Craig to caress his skin and put his hand up to his balls. Craig's cock leapt to erection.

Nasir pulled his robes over his head and stood in small white shorts which were quickly discarded to expose his monster cock. Mark gasped and started to pull his own clothes off. The young boy pulled down his jeans and quickly was in a simlar state. Though a small young lad he still had nearly 7 inches which looked almost obscene against his slight frame. A small patch of dark hair above his balls marked the only sign of manhood apart from his cock.

Both teens started on Craig with one fingering his bum while the other sucked his cock. They were fascinated by his foreskin and pulled it back and forth to reveal the pink head inside before licking. Mark moved across to stand beside his friend and was rewarded by the mouth of Thaqib wrapped round his erect cock. He lifted the boy up and dropped to return the favour, taking the slightly salty tasting cock into his mouth. The boy had certainly done this before but Marks feeling was that he was the first foreigner. Mark was able to consume the whole shaft but on looking to Craig noticed that his attempts to do the same to Nasir were almost impossible due to its length and girth. The monstrous cock was actually able to stand outwards and upwards, seemingly defying gravity.

Nasir turned to Mark and said, "Thaqib is new and has not been with man before. I want his to enter your friend first, then you, and I will finish him."

Mark grabbed their holdall and took out the preparatory aids they had brought for sex. Some fresh wipes, condoms and lube. Craig had made sure he was squeaky clean before leaving that morning just in the hope. Here he was, only having been fucked by one person in his life, and about to get three cocks one after the other. His heart was thumping in anticipation.

Thaquib stretched the rubber over his cock and Craig lubed himself. The young lad was very eager and his steel-stiff cock proved it. He didn't invite Craig to lie down but just stood behind him sticking his eager young cock into Craig's arse in one swoop. He grabbed Craig's hips by the hip bones and, using them as handles, started to pump. Mark dropped to take Nasir's cock in his mouth. He sucked the head and felt the giant organ pump as blood flowed through it. Craig gripped the side of a small tree for balance as Thaqib hammered his hole enthusiastically. When he came, the world knew. He screamed loudly and fucked in great big sweeps into Craig, hammering his arse with the final thrusts and he emptied his balls into him. When he pulled out, the quantity of cum trailing into the sac of the condom surprised even Mark. There was enough for two men.

"Now you," said Nasir to Mark as he pulled his cock from his mouth.
Mark didn't need a condom so just slipped his cock home into the already widened hole. Craig's hole had never felt finer and he was struggling not to cum immediately. He had never fucked Craig in front of anyone let alone two naked strangers. He fucked as he looked at the naked Arab teens standing with cock in hand stroking themselves and was surprised to see that Thaqib was again erect.

When he saw Nasir stretch a condom over his cock, he new Craig's time for the monster was nigh. He withdrew. Nasir walked forward and stooped slightly to push his cock into Craig. At first there was a problem and they had to add more lube but soon the head of his cock had pushed its way in and a look of ecstasy swept over Craig's face. They boys were wrapped up in the enthusiasm of the fuck and Mark seized the opportunity to grab his tiny digital camera to snap the scene for posterity (and some wanking over the Winter nights). Thaqib was in front sucking Craig's hard dick while Nasir was fucking. The long member would pull all the way out and then thrust all the way in, forcing Craig to gasp.

Mark downed the camera and walked over to Thaqib. He pulled a condom on and lubed him. He had expected resistance from the boy at the possibility of losing his virginity but didn't. In fact the boy willingly helped Mark to lube and then bent over to allow his access. Mark gently pushed the head of his cock to the opening and Thaqib turned to look at him before backing swiftly on to it. Mark was surprised as his cock sunk straight into the boy's hole and was quickly fucking away. The lad loved it. He then gently walked over to Craig to bend facing Craig's cock as he was being fucked and took it in his mouth, gripping with his other hand.

Mark looked up as this orgy went on apace and was horrified to see a little boy and girl watching them. The little girl looked about 8 or 9 and the little about 10. They were obviously Berbers living in tented accommodation locally. Mark was just about to call a halt to the proceedings when he noticed the little boy's cock sticking out the front of his baggy trousers and his hand wrapped round it wanking. The sordidness of the whole scene was enough for Mark and he screamed as his load pumped into Thaqib. Craig came simultaneously and his blast hit Thaqib on the face. Mark had never seen Craig come in these quantities and the thin jet coated the boy's face and mouth.

Nasir, ever in control just steadied his pace and with one grunt, hammered his big cock one more time as he disgorged into the latex sac in Craig's arse. Thaqib lost no time in once more setting the cum volume record as his jet shot some 3 or 4 feet straight out in front of him. All collapsed. Mark then remembered the children and was about to cover himself up when he saw they had gone. Dressing in typical unromantic Arab style, was quick and when they all clambered into the 4 X 4 the whole scene seemed as though it had been a surreal dream.

There wasn't much said on the road back to Marrakech! The guys were tipped and the next day both boys were due to pick up a hire car and head for Agadir. They had again decided on a small 4 x 4 but figured they had enough confidence for Mark to do the driving. The main route to Agadir was on a pretty good motorway but on the map, there was also a route through the Atlas Mountains which would take the full day. It retraced some of the previous day's drive but the second half looked really interesting.

So the next morning after an early breakfast they paid their bill and headed out of town with the majesty of that Atlas Mountains sweeping up before them from the flat valley floor.

They had a packed lunch with them rather than risk cafes or roadside vendors. The first few hours were fabulous. The roads were in a pretty bad state in some part where landslides had washes part away but it was more of an adventure than something to be scared about. All along the way, small groups of children, shabbily dressed, and again they were trying to sell them some kind of weed at the side of the road. The guys figured it was "grass" in its raw state. Frightening to think of little kids as drug dealers!

They stopped and had a picnic with some fabulous views. The weather was warm but not too hot and they were dressed as tourists with light t-shirts and loose cotton shorts. After lunch, as they came round a bend, they found a small Fiat car at the side of the road with two guys beside it. They looked like a comedy double act! One guys looked to be about 30 40, was thin and short and wearing a dark but shabby suit and open neck shirt. The other was about 6 feet 6 inches tall and dressed in traditional Berber attire of a brown robe to his feet, open sandals and a hood which was off his head and hanging down his back. He looked to be anywhere in age from 28 40. They flagged the boys down.

They had no reason to be frightened. Moroccans are and had been throughout the trip, very friendly. They stopped and in a mixture of French and pigeon English managed to discover that they had run out of fuel and could the boys run the smaller guy into the next town about 7 miles away. While they talked, Craig looked at the tall guy who, in turn was staring intently at him and his red hair, Craig smiled and he grinned back. His teeth weren't that off a television commercial for toothpaste but there was something wildly attractive about him. Mark had agreed to drive the older man to the next town and he clambered in the back leaving his friend with the car.

On the short journey, and in stilted English/French, they managed to work out that the smaller man was married with three children, lived in the next town and the other guy was his cousin who was staying with him as there was a big market the next day and he had come from their Berber village on the edge of the Sahara to sell hand made jewellery. They reached the small filling station but instead of getting out, the little man arranged to send a can of fuel up to his cousin and invited the boys to have mint tea at his home. Vaguely remembering his Arab etiquette, Mark remembered that it would be bad manners to refuse so they accepted.

The house was not at all as they thought it might be. They entered a barren, dry field and drove across it. Some children played by the only tree and there was a small stream. In the middle, what appeared at first to be a mound of earth, turned out to be his home. Made of red mud, it formed circle with a wooden door cut in it. On entering, they removed their shoes and found an open courtyard with small mud-type huts forming rooms inside. A woman was busy cleaning with a switch and the kitchen was a sink sitting on a mud platform and a bucket underneath to catch the waste and another bucket with fresh water. They were ushered into a room with a rug on the dry floor and sat cross-legged as their host arranged for water to be boiled on a small paraffin stove. There was a complete ceremony of crushing fresh mint leaves into a pewter tea pot and pouring on hot water. The smell of mint was overpowering. Raw sugar rocks were then added in large quantities to sweeten the tea and the boys were then offered a cup. In the background, his wife continued to sweep and clean and the children ran in and out.

Suddenly a shape filled the door and his cousin appeared smiling. Obviously the car had been filled and driven back. He too sat down on the floor facing the boys and accepted a cup of mint tea. The small talk in "AngloFrenchArabic" continued and the boys were getting a bit bored. The cousin attempted to sell them some of his wares and the boys bought a small piece at an overpriced rate.

Suddenly the cousin looked a Craig and said "Pretty boy!"

Craig blushed.

The older man left for a short while and the cousin, whom they could hardly understand, continued to smile. He adjusted his position on the floor and his robe, rode up slightly, giving Craig a view of a large pair of balls thickly covered with hair. He tried to avert his eyes but the site was so erotic, he could feel his cock stir. The scene was really odd, wife sweeping, kids playing and this guy exposing himself. Mark saw what was happening and looked at Craig's crotch seeing the bulge appearing.

"I don't think even we are going to get sex out of this situation," He whispered to Craig, "Let's get going."

The boys stood to leave and Craig was immediately aware his erection was sticking out. The Arab noticed immediately and as he stood, he gripped the front of his robe to adjust his cock. They started to leave but just as the passed one of the doors in the courtyard, the tall Arab took Craig's hand and led him inside. Mark followed and he shut the door.

In the cool dark, the Arab pulled Craig's top off and pulled down his shorts then briefs. In one minute he stood naked with Mark watching. The Arab, still fully dressed, kissed his nipples. Mark stepped forward and raised the Arab's robe exposing a completely naked and hairy arse that a athlete would die for. He put his hand round and met with 10 inches of thick hard flesh standing straight out, He gasped. He pulled the robes completely off the Arab, knelt in front and took the head in his mouth. The circumcised cock was surprisingly sweet tasting and the Arab lay his head back and groaned. His finger was pushed into Craig's arse quite roughly and Craig had a feeling where this guy wanted to go. Thank goodness he had spent some time cleaning and nursing his tender arse that morning. The door opened and the smaller cousin came into the room. Through the gap, Mark could see his wife glance into the room then continue with her work. The wiry little man stripped completely naked and his thin, circumcised cock stuck out to 5 inches and so hard it could have hammered nails. In his hand was a small jar of cream. He knelt before Mark and took his cock gently into his hand. He pulled the foreskin back slowly, fascinated by the skin and the exposed head, then took all of Mark's cock straight into his mouth.

The ensuing blow job was amongst the best Mark had ever had. This man was having a feeding frenzy. Craig was on his knees slurping happily on the tall Arab. Mark then twisted round to take the big monster into his mouth and share it with Craig. The Arab loved the double service. As he did do, he felt a hard sharp object against his hole and knew the little man wanted to fuck him. Not known for being passive, Mark decided that this little cock might be fun, so he took two condoms out of his wallet and handed one to each man. The little man tore his open and had in on in seconds but his friend had real difficulty and it only cover about two thirds of the monster. Both boys were lubricated and Mark got it first. The little guy didn't waste time on ceremony and pushed his cock in with one thrust, fucking in and out immediately. He watched as Craig kneeled doggy fashion on the floor and the Arab started the process of entering him. Mark was fascinated as he watched it enter inch my inch. Craig took the entire cock up to the Arab's balls. Then he fucked.

He gripped Craig's thighs and started a frenzied fucking attack. Craig was howling with pleasure. Behind him, Mark felt the little man pick up speed too. He suddenly stopped, held Mark's hips, and the throb of cum pumping inside could clearly be felt. He pulled out and the sac plopped out with a quantity of cum that suggested his wife had not been supplying the goods for some time. The little man quietly dressed and left without waiting to help Mark finish. Mark moved over to the big Arab and put his hand to Craig's bum to feel the cock thrust in and out. He stood up and stretching over Craig's head, stuck his cock straight in the face of the Arab. At first he just looked at it, then his mouth opened and he took the cock in. The suck was amateurish but was serving a purpose. Craig groaned and his completely erect and untouched cock sprayed a load of cum without anyone touching it. The Arab was pushed near the edge and thrusting got more frenzied. Just as he was about to cum, Mark felt the end was near and tried to pull his cock out, not wanting to frighten the guy but he was too late and his seed came with a force that frightened even him. It shot into the open mouth, on his cheeks, over his shoulder and started to trickle down through his unshaven face. The Arab came is short forceful thrusts accompanied by matching grunts. He too had filled the condom with a load that could have fathered a whole street.

The Arab took the cum off his face with a finger and licked it with a smile.

The "goodbyes" were short and sweet and the boys got the feeling that the wife didn't look too pleased. Even the kids seemed to know what had gone on with their winks. Mark wondered if they had been on the receiving end of it at some time.

The rest of the drive was uneventful and they arrived in Agadir in the late afternoon.

As they rested in their apartment, Mark realise something had happened. From having a close and personal love affair and being jealous if someone else even caught a glimpse of Craig's body, he was suddenly filled with an animal lust to have Craig abused in front of him. The idea of Craig being multi-fucked of being exposed to strangers, of being abused by other guys, suddenly overwhelmed him. He was slightly frightened by the thought but realised he still loved Craig deeply. Anyway, here they were in Agadir and, they had no idea of any gay structure here. They were going to rest!

The first day was spent exploring the town and even looking round the bazaars and shops. This place was slightly more European than Marrakech. Day two they headed for the beach. It was surprisingly quiet. The boys had packed one small bag with towels, swim trunks, sun cream and yes, they had packed condoms and lube just in case.
After sunbathing until about 2.30, they had a snack lunch and then decided to explore the beach which rambled away from the town more miles into the distance. The police patrolled by horse and in 4X4 trucks. The boys presumed the police were looking out for tourist safety. As they walked up the beach, the wind-whipped sand started to annoy them as it stung their faces and Mark suggested that they cut into the dunes and walk back that way. The area was very quiet with just a few Arab men sunbathing or just walking. It didn't feel cruisy as it was too quiet.

As they turned round a dune, they saw a naked Arab man stand up with his cock on full display. He stretched and smiled. They walked on and saw another on top of the next dune. The boys decided to "set up camp" in a sheltered are at the base of a dune and close to some bushes. Within ten to fifteen minutes, two or three older but attractively slim Arabs had moved closer or were standing on top of the dune looking down. Two younger teenage boys walked past and smiled. The boys smiled back and the lads stopped. In "pigeon" English the asked for a cigarette. As neither of them smoked, they couldn't help.

"Money for cigarettes," one asked?

"No" said Mark.

"I show you the best places to go," he said. "I and my friends know where English boys can find good fun with women."

"We're not looking for women," Mark said.

"Ah, then you want men and boys," they said in a "matter of fact" way?

The lack of an answer seemed to say it all.

"Come with us and we will show you."

The boys followed blindly back into the scrubland followed by at least three other guys from the beach. Everyone seemed to know where they were going except Craig and Mark who were glad they hadn't brought much in the way of valuables. After about 15 minutes they saw a large desolate wooded area. The bushes seemed impenetrable but still they headed there. The young Arabs pushed at some of the bushes and they parted. Behind was a slim pathway heading deep into the scrub. As they all entered, the bushes could be heard parting behind them. This didn't seem to deter the Arab boys at all. Soon, they were in an open area, cleared at ground level but still covered from above. As the British boys took stock, suddenly aware that they were vulnerable, four Arab men appeared, having followed them into the area. They recognised them as some of the naked men from earlier so knew the intentions were sexual and not violent.

Again, Craig's red hair was the centre of attraction as the men shed what little garb they had and four tall 30-40 year olds stood wanking very healthy meat. Mark assumed that the young lads were the bait and that they would go, but was pleasantly surprised to see them take their shirts and shorts off too. All headed towards Craig in a feeding frenzy. They caressed his hair, licked his body and one of the young Arab's actually started sucking his cock. Mark stripped himself and dived into the mace. Soon his balls and cock were being handled too. Movement behind announced another visitor who was obviously further behind the group as they headed here. This stocky, dark skinned Arab exuded money but his smile suggested they should keep at it. They all did. Fingers were at Craig's arse and it was obvious they all wanted a piece of it.

"Are you going to be able," gasped Mark.

"Try me," said Craig.

"I might just do that," he said.

Mark opened his bag and pushed everyone back to spectator level. He lubricated Craig carefully and generously and made a point of putting on a condom, more as a visual warning than a necessity. They all stood and watched as he put a rug over a fallen tree stump, his legs either side, and his pink rosebud surrounded by red hair, pointing skyward. The gasps were audible. He entered steadily as the audience gathered round to wank and watch. He fucked steadily, enjoying the attention from the masturbating men. They seemed resigned to be spectators only but Mark knew better. Well before the point of orgasm, he slowly withdrew and pointed to the young boys to take turns. They grabbed the offered condoms and stood one behind the other. The older boy of about 18, stuck a sweet little 5 inch cock into Craig and humped with the enthusiasm only a hungry teenager can. Craig was groaning in ecstasy and the young boy didn't take long to blow his load. He withdrew quickly, discarding a full condom and his pal was in without any preamble. He fucked Craig like an object, a hole, just there for his pleasure. Mark was struggling not to cum too early as he choreographed the event.

One tall 30 year old Arab stood alongside Mark, stroking his own cock with one hand and gently pushing a finger into him while he stood. Mark would normally object but found it quite exotic. The older, wealthy looking Arab arrived behind him and took the lube from Mark's hand, spreading it on his cheeks. Mark tried to stop him, pointing at Craig. He wanted all of them to fuck Craig.

The older man nodded and said in broken English, "Him too."

The second young boy had emptied his balls and the tall Arab next to Mark moved forward and grabbed a condom. Mark bent forward to get it for him as he felt the cock behind him enter. The older man was not big but his cock was wide and the entry was smooth but quite painful. It was only the sight of the large 9 inch Arab cock entering Craig that eased the pain. The older man grunted slightly as he shagged at a stooping Mark, and Craig watched as the fourth cock in succession entered. Now the other two men had donned condoms and stood in a queue behind Craig's fucker, stroking their own cocks while they watched and waited. The tall Arab grunted as his staccato body movement suggested he was disgorging his seed into Craig. Number five, took Craig off the log and lay him and the blanket on the ground to lift Craig's legs and enter from the front. His 7 inches entered easily with Craig's legs forming a large "Y" above his head.

The two young lads hadn't run away and were actually standing over the scene, their young cocks fully erect again as they masturbated. Mark's hole was getting quite sore from his fucker so he eased himself gently off. The man understood and moved over to queue the final guy who was waiting to fuck Craig. The final guy was having none of it and made sure as his predecessor was exploding into the condom up Craig's arse, he was the next to enter. The older man shrugged and waited patiently. Mark looked up to find the younger Arab boy lubricating himself before offering his arse to him. Mark didn't need a second telling and pulled on a condom before easing his cock into the young guy. He was now alongside Craig facing him on the ground, his hand around the young boy wanking his cut cock.

The man who fought so hard to be next to fuck Craig, came within 2 minutes of entry, probably his warm up had brought his too close to the edge. The older man eased his thick cock in almost immediately and the additional width was noticeable on Craig's face. The older man pulled him close to him, his legs still in the air as he started a slow and steady fuck. He knew what he was doing and the look on Craig's face told him so. As Craig lay wanking his own cock, a stream of cum erupted over his head and face as the older of the two young Aran boys exploded for a second time. Craig lapped what he could and the sight was too much for Mark, he came in the young guy and, without touching the lad's cock, his stiff member exploded too, sending another spray of cum over Craig. Craig couldn't hold out and shot over his own chest. The quantity was enormous, jetting straight over Craig's head in the first instance and then dolloping on his belly. The older man, pulling his cock out, pulled off his condom and added to the mess on Craig.

The other men had all gone just leaving the two young guys, who they figured were waiting for some payment, and the older guy. They all mopped up and the older guy promised to see them safely off the beach. He handed some notes to the younger boys who disappeared immediately and kindly escorted Mark and Craig out of the bushes and then in another direction to join a road behind where they had been. Conveniently parked was a large Jeep into which they bundled to be taken to their apartment.

On they way, they realised that he was a wealthy local businessman and that he had a craving for Western young men and much more importantly, red-haired Western young men. He thanked them for the privilege of being able to fuck them. He asked what their fantasies were and Mark confessed they had almost fulfilled all of them in 10 days.

He looked at Mark and said, "You want to see your lover seduced no ravaged by young Arabs, is that it?"

"Well I did," said Mark.

He ignored Mark's answer and said that his fantasy had been fulfilled that afternoon. Young Arab men are an easy commodity for me but red-haired Westerners are not. He asked them to dinner two nights later and said he would send a car. As it was their final night, they agreed.

Mark was amazed that Craig's hole wasn't ripped to shreds but the lube had done its job and some careful cream rubbing soon reduced any inflammation from the shagging. Though he had had seven cocks in him, including Mark, the fuckings had been very short and the whole event had taken no longer than about 30 minutes so thankfully no damage had been done. Mark's first entry had eased open Craig's hole gently and made the subsequent ones easier to take.

They relaxed over the next two days and realising that their host might want another stab at them, they prepared for the possibility of sex on the final evening. The Jeep arrived, driven by a young attractive Arab lad in smart black trousers and white t-shirt and they were taken to an attractive villa in its own grounds just outside Agadir. The meal was taken quite early, around 7.00pm and was delicious lamb, crumbly and tender, served with fabulous couscous rich with vegetables. They were offered sticky sweet cakes to follow and some wine to drink. They noticed that their Arab friend joined them in drinking the wine!

Very politely the Arab gentleman, who had introduced himself as Hafiz, explained that he was a well know businessman and though surrounded by beautiful Arab boys, had a craving for pale skinned blonde and particularly, red-haired, European boys. He could not believe his luck when he had stumbled upon Craig and Mark in the beach area. He asked if the boys would be offended if he asked them to strip again so he could view their beauty. Now Hafiz was not unattractive but neither was be beautiful. He looked to be around his mid-forties, was slightly plump and was not too tall. He was well groomed, exceedingly polite and he did have a thick cock. The boys adopted a "what the heck" attitude and stripped.

Hafiz did nothing much really. He laid both boys together on a couch and caressed their cocks until they were both hard. He licked both in turn sucking their cocks' then balls, meanwhile stroking his own cock. Craig was prepared to take this man's cock into him again but he seemed just content to stroke them and fondle them.

Suddenly he stood up. "You young men have been extremely kind to an old man and I appreciate you allowing me to indulge my fantasy. I am aware that just as I fantasise over European cocks, you have an interest in Arab cocks. I also realise that you enjoy the attention of many at once. Well I enjoy seeing this and as a treat for you, I have invited some of my young friends here tonight to attend to you."

With that, he clapped his hands and the doors opened. Mark looked amazed as ten young Arab boys from late teenagers to early twenties, came in. All wore white briefs and all were stunning. He noted the driver was amongst them. Hafiz stripped and sat on a chair to watch the proceedings and Mark and Craig were surrounded by the young men. Within minutes the room was awash with twelve naked men, all erect. Craig was again the centre of attraction. They really DID like red hair! They lay back as cocks were thrust into their mouths and young men sucked on their cocks. Mark was as hard as he could ever remember. Hafiz was videoing.

He shouted across to Mark, "A copy for you before you go to remind you of Morocco." Mark nodded.

Soon Mark was on his knees sucking cock after cock. Everywhere he looked another hard circumcised cock hit his face or filled his mouth. He delved into this, as did Craig, for around 15 minutes.

Hafiz spoke to Mark in a loud voice. "Young man, you have a real fantasy don't you. It concerned your friend and many other young men."

At first Mark was puzzled and then realised this shrewd man had worked out what he really wanted to see. Craig being gang-banged!

Hafiz came across and the boys stepped back. He handed the camera to one of the boys and started to lubricate Craig. Craig groaned as his fingers gently entered him opening him softly. When Craig was ready, he suggested Mark enter him first. Mark eased his cock into Craig who knelt on all fours, and started to fuck as all around wanked and watched. Mark only fucked for a short while and when he withdrew, Hafiz said something to all the boys in Arabic and then said to Mark, "They will not cum until all have finished with him."

Mark sat on the couch with Hafiz, watching the spectacle as young man after young man took position behind Craig. The line of condom-clad cocks stood straight behind Craig's eager arse and they all took it in turns to enter him, thrust their dicks in and fuck him. Each boy took around 5-10 minutes before pulling out, taking off the condom and standing to watch. Once lad of about 20 had almost 9 inches and Mark noticed Hafiz had kept him until last. Craig took the big cock in one thrust and rolled to take him on his back with his legs open. The site was spectacular and more than once Mark had to stop wanking to prevent himself cumming.

When the final lad pulled out, Hafiz asked Mark and Craig to lie alongside each other on the tiled floor. The cool tiles were pleasing against their backs. All 10 boys and Hafiz then took position over them and started to wank. Mark and Craig knew what was going to happen and tried to time their own orgasm. When the first jet of teen Arab cum hit their neck and face, they hardly had time to enjoy the pleasure before a wave of cum plastered over them. Ten loads of hot young sperm jetted full loads over their bodies and Hafiz wasted no time in handing over the camera and adding his to both boys faces. Mark and Craig fired streams of thin cum high in the air to land with the thick, rich semen already coating their bodies. Thirteen cum loads in total gave the air a rich smell of ammonia and Hafiz lowered himself to them and kissed both boys in return, the cum mixing with his kiss and he moved from Mark to Craig.

He whispered, "A present from Agadir!"

The boys left for Marrakech the following day, and onwards to London, clutching a DVD recording of the event for posterity. Their relationship took on a new meaning after that. They were closer than they had ever been and to all their friends, they still rarely parted when they visited the local gay bars but then, few of their local friends ever went on holiday with them!!

Bedroom Surprise

I have to say, I honestly didn't expect it. It was a long day and I wasn't in the mood for anything. I opened the door and walked through the house without incident; that was, until I entered my bedroom.

This was a first. The nerve of the kid. In my house?!

And yet, there Taj was, fully naked except for the silver chain and white socks, lying face up on my bed. I saw cum on his lower stomach; he wailed on himself off there. His small dick was soft now. He was asleep. On my bed.

And the most outrageous thing: through his slightly spread legs, I saw a familiar object. A butt-plug, my butt plug, was in sticking out from his ass. I couldn't believe it.

I dropped my small suitcase in shock. Perhaps more frightened than I, Taj woke up with a start, trying to get his bearings. Quickly, though, a look of embarrassment came over him and he appeared to be trying to find some explanation.

"Uh, Mr. Jones," he said, sitting up now. Wincing a little, he took the butt-plug out of his orifice.

Kids, I thought. Taj had been a good one; at fifteen, he was anxious to make money and I helped out by having him mow the lawn. On this hot summer day, I'd asked him to do it again. I'd left my keys where I usually do so he could get my lawnmower from the house; his mother's had been broken for a few months. And this is what happened.

"Taj, what the fuck you doin'?" I yelled. He left the blue, penis-shaped sex-toy on the bed and started to look around frantically for his clothes. He found them beside the bed and grabbed them quickly as he rushed to his feet. But, he seemed to shocked to actually start putting them on.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," he said. He was only about 8 years younger than me but he still called me ‘Mr. Jones'. "I... I..."

"I don't give a fuck! Just get on your clothes and get out!"

His brown eyes fell to the floor. His cornrows were neatly done by his mother. Did she know he was still here?

It was as if Taj had read my mind: "Mr. Jones, you ain't gon' tell my moms about this, are you?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," I said firmly and angrily. My stuff was still on the floor. "You can't do shit like this, man!"

"Please, Mr. Jones, please, don't tell my moms!" he begged. "If she ever found out..."

I found it strange to see this young man cowering before me like this. He followed the crowd and the hip-hop artists of the time, and yet here he was, nude, caught red-handed doing something that could change not only his mother's opinion of him, but his friends'. He had his shirt pressed against his groin and I could see that come of his semen had gone onto it.

"It's just that... I ain't never been wid a guy before and... I kinda like you..."

My mouth dropped open. Taj?... Taj?! Admitting this? This kid was obsessed! And crazy! He searched my stuff, and found my private things in my bedroom and expect any what?

"Listen, dawg, I ain't got to time for dis," I said. "I'm tired. I got a new computer program to build for an important client. I can't deal wid dis shit, a'ight?"

"But," he pleaded, "I seen how you look at my brother." He had a point; his older brother was one of those thugs: often walking shirtless around the street with his clique and his jeans sagging. One fine-ass nigger.

"What?" I muttered. How dare he put this on me?

"Please, sir, I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry."

He tossed aside his shirt quickly, slipping on his boxers before he rushed out the bedroom door, all his clothes bundled in his arms.

"Wait," I said, grasping his arm as he passed me. "You say you a virgin. Never been wid anyone?"

"Yeah, man," he said, looking embarrassed still.

Actually, so was I. I had always been caught up with school and work; never had I allowed myself to let sex get in the way. But, I'd never been in this sort of situation either. Taj was actually almost as hot as his brother. He was taller than me, and I was 5'9", having a very mature look. He wasn't as muscular as me, but he had a nice set of abs and chest.

"Lemme see that dick, son," I commanded gently.

Unable to control himself, he dropped his clothes and let his boxers fall to the floor. I saw his dick twitch and start to grow. "How'd you like my butt-plug?" I asked.

"I never done nothing like that befo'," he admitted. "I actually liked it; I always that the stuff I see on the 'net wid guys lovin' that shit was bogus. But... I wanted to try."

"Alright," I said. I decided to do what I'd never done; and why not with someone who seemed willing. Indeed, I could see the eagerness in his eyes. "Kiss me, nigger."

It looked like he'd never kissed before either. He seemed unsure. I'd at least done that; so, I guided him, pushing my tongue into his mouth he followed suit. One hand was on his cornrows, the other was unbuttoning my shirt.

The suit jacket and shirt underneath fell to the floor first, leaving a white A-shirt. Then, my pants. But I had to kick off my shoes before I could step out of them. I had on my boxers and I pulled myself close to him, feeling his dick against my lower stomach. He was hard as rock already, and (if you believe if) bigger than me. Of course, I was hard too, and pressed against his scrotum under my boxers.

Breathing deeply, I stopped the kiss and help him close as I breathed in his ear, "You gon' gimme a peace o' dat ass, dawg?"

"Y-yeah, man," he said as I started to play around with his anus. I felt his body shake.

"Good," I said. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea I could take charge like this. This was much better than what he saw on the videos.

I parted from him for a painful few seconds, stepping over my clothes and suitcase, I reached the drawers and pulled out the lube I usually used when I watched my... entertainment. I walked back over to Taj and led him back to the bed.

He lay once again on his back, his legs hanging off. I lubed up my dick and indicated that he should lift his legs. His ass vibrated as my lubricated fingers went in. His still-changing voice was sweet to my ears as he moaned. I bent down to kiss his dimpled cheek and whispered, "You ready?"

He could do nothing but nod.

So, I got up, dropping the bottle of lube to the floor. And I placed my dick at the entrance, toying with it. He wasn't touching himself. He seemed as anxious as me to have me enter. My pink mushroom head went in first. I heard him wince a little, but also moan in sensual pleasure. His ass squeezed around my head, sending a wave around my whole body.

"Relax your ass," I said. "Just let me work."

He did. Slowly, as I kissed his chest and tickled his dick, he let all of me in. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. After one minute of in-out action, I shot a load in his ass. Bliss.

His face held pain, but satisfaction at having his prostate massaged for a while. I slowly pulled it out. Then, I said, "You want a turn?"

His face lit up: "Hell yeah!" I didn't bother to clean the cum from my dick. I just picked up to lube, applied to my ass and, much to his pleasure, his awaiting dick.

I climbed on the bed beside him, on all fours. "Come on, dawg. Take a ride. I'm waitin'."

I didn't have to ask twice. His dark dick was in me faster than I could blink. Only, I could handle it better; I'd used that butt-plug for longer. What sweet heaven. His dick went in and out, in and out... smooth as butter. His dick wasn't as thick as mine, but he reached deep.

His sounds of sensual pleasure got my dick hard again. I groaned as he rode me for the next three minutes. His first time was longer than mine.

But, I wasn't done yet. I turned around and grabbed him as I felt the cum leaking from my ass. "What'd you think?" I asked.

"Yo, dawg, I dunno what to say, except... shit." His face said it all. The sweat poured down his dark face, his tight small chest, arms and abs.

"Good," I said, grabbing the back of his head, moving my hand over his canerows while guide him to my anxious dick. "Yo, suck it, kid."

He did. I was surprised that his dick wasn't getting soft, still throbbing as the blood moved through it. So, we went into 69 position. I never imagined having someone suck my dick would be this good. The feeling of his tongue sliding around my cock was too wonderful to describe. I kept playing with his firm butt-cheeks and his anus, longing to place my tool through that orifice again.

He soon gave me the opportunity. This thug seemed to like being dominated.

"Fuck me again, nigger," he almost begged.

"Wait," I said as I grabbed the butt-plug. It was still lubed up, but I applied more. "I lay on my back and pushed it slowly up my ass as he seemed to be exerting all of his effort not to grab his own cock. I positioned my dick and said, "come on."

Some of the cum was still dripping from his ass as he sat on my dick. With my left hand, I pushed the butt-plug in and out of my ass while he moved up and down slowly. Pleasure from both ends. My right hand moved over his abs as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. He lay down against me and I felt his dick moving against my own well-defined abs. It must have been heaven rubbing it against my stomach.

He kissed me, taking more control now, his hand against my buzz-cut hair. He started to push his ass against my dick more forcefully. My spine would have jerked if I was standing. I wished I had videotaped it; two dark-skinned niggers havin' the time of their lives.

Then, he sat up again, reaching for his dick, but I intercepted him. "Naw, dawg, lemme do it."

I swear his own dick throbbing in my hand made mine swell in his ass and I felt his moaning intensify. His ass started twitching again and he forced himself harder and harder on my dick. The plug pressed against my prostate.

"Aw, shit," he murmured as he shot a load into my hands. Soon after, I felt myself shoot into his rectum.

I let go and he lay on me for a while, the plug still in my ass. He breathed against my ear, licking it every now and again as I shrank in his ass.

"You ain't gon' tell my moms, right, Mr. Jones?" he asked again, smiling this time.

"Naw, kid," I answered. "And call me Chris."

He took a shower and I helped him clean the cum out of his clothes. He left at around 8:30 p.m., but told me his mom wouldn't worry; he often came home later than this. We kept our little secret. We figured it best that we not meet too often, but I hope we get together sometime soon.

Returning Unexpectedly

He was rude to me when I first saw him, which is one of the reasons I remembered him. The other was that he was drop-dead gorgeous.

This was in the souk (Arab market) in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, one dull Saturday morning, and I was shopping for a Quran. Not some paperback English translation, but something really nice, an ornate Arabic copy I could display in my office at home. I also needed it for a few of my Arabic classes. I found the sort of shop I was looking for in one of the darker, less populated corridors of the covered market, a little stall really, which sold a variety of Qurans and assorted religious trinkets. It was overseen by two men, one younger, one older.


The older man was sucking sleepily on a water-pipe, and seemed uninterested in me as I looked over the wares. The younger man had a book open in his lap, but he watched me out of the corner of one piercing dark eye. I spotted a copy I liked, and reached to turn back the front cover with my right hand. I wanted to see if it included commentary, or if it was just the text. The sleepy older man glanced at me, realizing I’d seen something I liked … and might be persuaded to buy. But the younger one was having none of it. To my shock … because Arabs are, in my experience, unfailingly polite, especially to foreigners, and very especially to foreign customers, with none of the rudeness or inattentiveness you sometimes find in an Israeli shop … he stood up and snapped “Don’t touch!”. I literally jumped back, and not just because of the surprising behavior. When he stood up and turned fully toward me, I could see exactly how beautiful he was.

His black hair was cut short and neat, but it was obviously thick. He also had very neat facial hair. About a half-inch of beard … stubble, really. The rest of his skin was liquid-smooth, unlined, a warm golden brown. His eyes were large, arresting, dark, with long curling lashes and
soft thick lids. His mouth, though set and serious, was quite lush. He was very young to have such a grim expression on his face, maybe only 25. I realized my mouth was open and I had nothing to say, so I took a step back, then turned around and started back the way I came. I could hear the other man saying something to him in rapid Arabic. I didn’t catch what, but he sounded pissed. I continued on my way, got my book at another shop, and ended the excursion with some sweets from one of the many sweet-shops. My mind returned to the pretty young fellow with the grim face as I enjoyed my treat, but I avoided his area of the market for the next few weeks.

I was sitting by the window in a restaurant I frequent near the Old City, and the same young man walked in. The place was somewhat full, and one of the only seats available was near me. So he sat close by. I watched him order his tea, and then pull out a smudged, tract-like document from his bag, which he proceeded to peruse, head bent.

I must have been bored, or feeling particularly gutsy, because I used my badly-pronounced Arabic to get his attention. Then, once I had it, asked him if he’d been to this restaurant before. When he answered yes, many times, I asked him what was the best dish on the menu. He didn’t seem to recognize me from the market, and pleasant conversation ensued.

It turned out he was a religious student at some madrasa or another. Hence, I guess, the dead-serious look. His English wasn’t great … the vocabulary seemed uneven, comparatively rich on some subjects, barely adequate on others. But he liked to talk, especially about his studies. He was interested in mysticism, things like that. Not really my area. But his beauty, and his cute broken English, sufficed to keep my eyes from glazing over. And somehow, by the time I’d finished eating, I had convinced him that coming back to the room I was renting in East Jerusalem for coffee was a good idea.

Now, from what I gathered, he wasn’t married, and he shared a place with a few other students who were away right now, in a building owned by his cousin, the shop-keeper. His family was from Hebron. So nobody was expecting him home tonight.

It relieved me that, unlike with most Arab guys his age, none of his chatter on our bus-ride to my place was about girls. But, because it was mostly about God, I wasn’t exactly elated. Once in my room, I locked the door and got him seated comfortably on my sofa, then went into my little kitchenette, out of sight, to put together something to drink. I boiled water, then got out sugar, instant coffee, and brandy. I mixed it together in oversize mugs, putting several generous dollops of liquor into his. I was betting on his never having tasted alcohol before.

And I was right, because he continued sipping on his drink throughout our Arabic-English conversation, seeming not to notice the effects it was having on him. His gestures got more effusive, his English looser, easier, but also more haphazard. The little ember of desire I’d had for him since the day at the market began to grow and grow.

Then he asked where the bathroom was. I showed him, and he got up, a little unsteadily … which was adorable after only a few shots of brandy. He said something about studying all day and being “too much tired”. I smiled and nodded knowingly. When he returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, I grabbed him by the shoulders, pressed him against the wall, and kissed his somber, lush-lipped mouth hard.

Needless to say, he struggled. Needless to say, he protested, both in Arabic and in English further broken by fear. But though nearly as tall as me, with firm small muscles, he was a slim young man and I was able to wrestle him to the bed, and after only a brief struggle, pin him there.

When he opened his mouth to yell for help I slapped him, hard enough that, but for luck, I might have split his lip. His soft mouth trembled in fear and shock. I leaned over and whispered into one of his lovely ears, telling him to keep quiet or I’d hurt him badly. He seemed to believe me.

He went limp, staring at me with those wide soft eyes. I wouldn’t have believed he could look any more appealing then he had the first day I saw him, that first jarring glimpse. But in this strange state, both animated and mollified by terror, he was ten times as beautiful …particularly the eyes, alert, yet wordlessly pleading. He had, I imagine, only the vaguest idea of the things I might intend to do to him.

I slapped him again, just for fun, across the other side of his face. He didn’t need to say anything … the eyes said it all. He was horrified, of course, but he also felt betrayed. I must’ve seemed like such a nice young tourist, up til now.

I made sure his long, lean legs were pinned under mine, and then I began to unbutton his fly. He wore nice, light-colored dress pants, which I slid easily down his thighs. He closed his eyes and tried to turn his head away, so that he wouldn’t have to look at me. I grabbed him by his short hair and made him face me, giving his warm, firm, inner thigh a rough pinch, telling him to watch me. He made a small shuddery sound and obeyed. I liked seeing the fear in those gorgeous eyes, as I got his pants down past his knees, and then worked them off over the nice pair of rubber sandals he was wearing. I removed them, too, fondling his beautiful feet while he watched me.

I left his feet and moved back up his body, stroking the firm legs with their light dusting of silky black hair. He was wearing plain white briefs, a little thin. I tugged at part of the leg band, decided it was worth a try, took a bit of fabric in each hand, and tore one side of the briefs in half. Again, his eyes widened. His mouth quivered, and began to move, forming silent words, probably prayers. That annoyed me, so I gave his inner thigh another hard pinch, twisting the olive flesh and making him gasp sharply in pain. I told him to stop, and his mouth fell still as I tore the other side of his underwear, yanked the fabric from beneath his ass, and tossed it aside.

His genitals were limp, shriveled with fear, but I could see he had a nice, smooth, cut cock and silky black pubic hair. I doubted anybody had ever touched this … possibly not even the young man himself, when he could avoid it. He flushed in lovely shame as I reached out and stroked him, pumping his shaft lightly, wanting to see if I could give him an erection. It worked, in some measure. He reacted to the sensation, his cock growing bigger, his frightened, bewildered, and stunningly handsome face flushing a deeper shade of red as blood rushed up beneath the golden pigment. I crawled on top of him and kissed him again. He opened his mouth for me, not wanting to be hurt again.

I kissed him slowly and with thorough relish, tasting the inside of his mouth. It was another way of violating him, and his taste was delicious. He just kept his mouth limp and open and submitted to the caresses of my tongue.

Finally I pulled back, spit trailing from my mouth to his in several places. His eyes were so big and deep and so exquisitely cowed, so full of paralyzing fear. I stroked my finger over one lush soft lid. He moaned. Now, what had I told him about no noise? I took one of his velvety earlobes between thumb and fingers and twisted. When I let go, his golden ear was blushing red, as his inner thigh had been.

I spread his thighs and knelt between them. Then I pulled his legs up and toward him, exposing his taut yet rounded young ass, and dark crack. I began to spread his thighs more, wanting to see the prize I was about to take, when suddenly, he panicked, began twisting under me. I was not at a good angle, but I managed to calm him down with a hard punch to the stomach. I then grabbed his balls in my hand, making it clear that, though I didn’t want to, I would hurt him there too if he gave me any more trouble. With a whimper, he fell back, limp. I thought about turning him on his belly, but I knew I wanted to see the look in those eyes when I took him.

I lifted his legs again and pulled his thighs apart, pushing his knees up hard toward his shoulders. Must have hurt. I opened my own pants, took out my throbbing cock. Then pushed his legs further up against his chest, moving his butt up and forward. Walking behind him, while he was still dressed and I was still the nice young tourist, it had been a pretty one. From this angle, it was exceptional. I reached down to spread the cheeks fully, and felt them clench. So I gave the right one a sharp smack, then another and another, and he immediately became pliant, reminded of how easily I could cause him pain. I stroked his hole with my fingers, smoothing away the small bit of silky hair there, and swirling my finger around the tender, ridged bud. He moaned. This time I let him.

Not taking my eyes off him, I felt along my bedside table for the hand-lotion I used to jerk off before bed (often thinking of lovely dark boys just like this one). I squeezed a little out and smeared some onto his hole, some onto my finger. He watched me, his expression now deliciously slack with horror. I lubed two fingers thickly, then put them in. I was not gentle, but I didn’t jam them in, either. I teased the walls of his passage, feeling the slick heat. His face barely showed any reaction, as if he were withdrawing completely from all of this.

Now, that was no fun. I gave his ass six firm, cheek-cupping smacks, three on each golden mound. Then I added a third finger, parting the blushing cheeks with my other hand. This time I did jam it in, to the hilt. His eyes bulged in pain, and I saw the sheen of tears beginning to well up.

I let him adjust, but only for a moment. At the same time I stroked his cock, returning him to his earlier state of involuntary arousal. Then I popped the fingers out one by one. I saw a sigh in his face as each one withdrew. His lips opened almost sensually.

Then I lubed myself up and pressed the head of my cock to his softly-dilated entrance, which was drooling lotion. When he felt it he begged me, quietly, in my own language, to stop. I just shook my head, slapped one side of his butt to let him know I meant business, and placed my hands on his thighs to hold him down. I hoped he wouldn’t scream when I entered him.

He didn’t, not out loud. But his mouth opened, and his head rolled back, and his eyes did their lovely oh-so-wide thing again. My first entry was slow, deliberate, and delicious. I was more teasing myself than I was being considerate of him. He was so very warm and tight and soft. Just perfect. I kept him pinned and thrust forward, driving the last inch inside him. He shut his mouth and eyes, moving his head from side to side in abject humiliation, complete disbelief. I felt I was stretching him, but I think it was more the violation than the actual sensation that made him react so. I moved back, then thrust in again, his passage hugging my cock. His eyes opened again, and this time it was clear he was crying. Big tears were oozing from his delicate dark eyes, over his long lashes, and down his soft cheeks.

I found a rhythm, feeling him adjust around me, pushing into that silken moist heat, then easing out. After a moment of deep thrusting, I knew I must be getting his prostate, because his cock grew harder, belying the fear and shame in his face. The little slut was loving it. I could see his hairline becoming moist with sweat, the short black hairs forming damp little blades. His thighs, too, were moist under my pressing hands. As I thrust in and out I realized we were both gasping from the exertion. His eyes were half-closed now, but I didn’t mind him not looking at me, didn’t mind at all watching the shimmer of sweat on his sensually thick eyelids, or the lashes matted with tears. The tears still came, and his plump lips still quivered, but less so. Everything about him became vivid in my mind, yet my vision was strangely unfocused as his exquisite constriction relentlessly milked me.

My thrusts became quicker, deeper, more forceful. He cried out, but only softly. I dug my fingers hard into his thighs, and his noise ceased. His cock was fully awake as I shoved into his heavenly hot core. I lifted his body to meet mine, gripping his slim hips and resting his lean calves on my shoulders. The thrusts seemed to have a momentum of their own. I was aware of nothing but the sensation of his insides, and the sight of him as he began to writhe in unwanted pleasure, his lips slick with drool, eyelids fluttering. That did it. I came hard, filling him, pumping hot spurts into him until I was dry, spent.

I pulled out, wiping the remainder of the cream against one round firm, slightly pink golden buttock. I looked at him. He seemed surprised to no longer be full of cock. I slapped his thigh and told him to get up, he could leave. Not looking at me, his face going red again, he did. He stumbled over to get his pants and I saw cum dribbling from his asshole as he bent to get them off the floor. I smirked to myself. He looked so whorish. He almost fell trying to put his pants on, and I just watched him, gloating silently. As he zipped them his hands came into contact with his hard cock, and a fresh blush infused his lovely features. He reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes. Then he grabbed his bag and, still a bit unsteady, left my room without a word.

I locked the door and went to bed. A few days later, I got a craving for some good kebab and returned to “our” restaurant near the Old City. It was only about half-crowded, and again there were empty seats near me. I had stopped worrying … or had never seriously worried … about the delicious young man going to the police. I figured he would be too embarrassed. I did not expect to see him again either. So I was speechless when he entered the place and took a seat directly opposite me.

He barely met my eyes as he explained how he’d been looking everywhere for me, how he felt so strange and didn’t know what to do. He then asked in an adorably small voice if I would please do “that…that bad.. thing” to him again. (Apparently, sex was an area in which his vocabulary could do with serious improvement.) For a second time in the space of five minutes, I was speechless. When I did regain my voice, I used it to ask for the check.

We went back to my room on the bus. I was shaking with desire as I sat beside him, where he seemed calm and serious, despite his urgent tone in the restaurant. In my room, I locked the door again, and immediately got him down on the bed, where I gave him a deep, hard kiss. He didn’t do much back, but I figured this was now part of the fantasy for him, this simple submission without response. I kissed him til my tongue felt raw, while unzipping his pants and undoing his shirt buttons.

As I stripped him, his smooth body squirmed under me, and I pinched and slapped his thighs to calm him. He moaned in pleasure as I landed repeated sharp blows to the underside of his ass. I noticed the spanking seemed to pleasure him more than any of the other rough stuff. And I liked seeing him getting aroused over something so degrading. So I slapped him harder, even aiming for his velvety crack. He murmured something about his father, and I felt a spasm of arousal as I pictured him, not all that many years ago, being spanked by a faceless older man, pictured him bare and contrite over a stern lap, his ass helplessly exposed to relentless angry slaps. I pictured him getting up after the punishment, face crimson, trying to hide his erection. His cock was completely rigid when I finally got him naked, completely naked, for the first time. His body, with the exception of his very fine rear end, was such a lovely golden caramel color, the color of some smoky-sweet delicacy. I bit him on his nipples and belly, and he purred with delight.

Again I lifted his legs to reveal his ass. This time I didn’t spank but leaned forward to nibble at his velvety cleft and tease his opening with my tongue. He cried out almost too loudly when he felt this. A cry, this time, of pure pleasure. I put my tongue inside him, wiggled it in the damp heat, listening to his loud near-agonized groans. I prepared him well, stretching him and moistening him inside with spit.

He murmured “please…please..” in English, and, thinking it was only fair to oblige him after all I’d put him through, I swirled my tongue around one last time, withdrew it, got up on my knees, and popped my cock into his golden-pink, spit-coated orifice. Again, his rectum seemed to hug me, to draw me into its satin super-heat. This time he moaned along with me as I rolled back and forth, pumping into him with greater speed and force as our heat overwhelmed me. His eyes were half-shut in ecstasy, but when I met them he looked directly at me.

He licked his lips. I thrust deep and hard. I stroked the damp backs of his thighs as I fucked him, smearing the increasing sweat into his soft sparse hair. His cock stood hard; I could see it dribbling. I looked into his eyes, then back at his erection, indicating with a nod of my head what I wanted.

He reached down and began stroking himself, picking up speed in time with my thrusts. Watching him delight himself as I plowed his tight heat, I couldn’t hold on, and I began to erupt. I pulled out, shooting a good amount of my load all over his smooth ass, wet crack, and the backs of his thighs. He saw me shoot and began to pump himself harder. I kept my eyes on him til his warm cum came out in thick ropes all over his hand and flat, smooth belly.

When we’d both finished, I pulled his legs down, crawled on top of him and began kissing him. He kissed back, cautiously, then with lazy, easy passion. I pulled a sheet over our spent bodies, he lay against me, murmuring contentedly, and we slept til late evening.

Gay Sex Slave : Raped by Talibans

It all started five years ago at Al Azhar university in Cairo. How proud I was when I first enrolled as a mature student there under a different name. Yet I was not entirely comfortable with the thought that I had raised the money through selling hashish. The profits went to a Syrian farmer, from Lebanon's Bekaa Valley, who claimed he donated regularly to Hezbollah while my principal buyers were ( thank Allah for this fortuitous irony ) the Israeli military.

On the darkest nights I waded across the Jordan river to sell to my contacts on the West Bank but sometimes the Zionist junkies ( may they all one day be captured, forced into fetters and chains, savagely sodomized and then sent to suffer the torment of eternal hell fire ) refused my shipment and I was forced to sell the excess cheaply to my fellow Palestinians in Zarqa. At the time I convinced myself that the means justified the ends - finding the best tutors to lead me closer to God.

Unfortunately I had to strike an even more unpleasant deal with Satan while trying to get to Cairo to start my studies. I hadn't been able to aquire my "permission to leave Jordan" permit as I had never completed my military service and desperate attempts to bribe bureaucrats in the army and government had failed miserably.

As a last resort I had befriended Adel (name changed), a young man who had once played half back with my cousin on Zarqa's football team but was now employed as a passport controller on the "rustbucket run" from Aqaba to Nuewieba ( actual ferry route was different ). It was well known that Adel's fantasy was to get a real deepthroat experience, so much so that when a well endowed local lad had refused to oblige, he importuned a virile pig which he found tethered in a farm yard on the outskirts of the Christian quarter. All went well until Adel decided to reverse roles. Unfortunately the pig looked on the young man's delicate penis as a modest hors-d'oeuvres and as Adel desperately tried to prize open the beast's jaws, the food demanding grunts of the animal's greedy brothers and Adel's own squeals of pain panicked the chickens and they in turn the dog and horses and the resulting commotion roused the farmer who peppered the yard with gunshot.

Since then Adel had spent as little time in Zarqa as possible as he had not been able to quell the gossip. When I met him it was far from Zarqa in a small office on Aqaba's seafront adjacent the port's RO RO berth. I tried to bribe him to help me pass through passport control, but he explained that the paltry sum of money I offered as an inducement was in no way sufficient to compensate for the risk he would be taking in smuggling me off the ferry at Nuweiba without a thorough documentation check. He added that he was only a junior official and as such never routinely checked passports and documents himself, but only the particular details of a few difficult cases at the direct request of more senior officers.

Adel assured me however that he had a foolproof plan providing I could "pay the price" and I was quickly persuaded by his newly found self-confidence. But in the event it proved to be far from easy. As he escorted me from a private cabin down a steep stairwell towards the car deck, we were spotted by a uniformed officer who sported so many stars on his epaulets that I couldn't determine his exact rank.

"Where are you going ?" he barked so as to be heard above the engine noise. "This is the son of General Mohammed Hafez," Adel cooly replied, "and my boss has asked me to look after him."

"Well hurry up and get back as soon as you can. There's a huge pile of processed passports waiting for collection upstairs and no one to hand them back to the passengers." I followed Adel down on to the car deck where he produced a key with which he was able to open the back door of a refrigerated meat lorry.

"Now for my reward !" he exclaimed excitedly as he closed the door behind us. He ignited his cigarette lighter so that I could just make out the outline of several carcasses hanging from hooks. Then falling on his knees he calmly lifted my gallibaya and received my shrivelled penis into his gentle grip. I was grateful for the meagre warmth of his hands but the whole ambiance, together with the freezing temperature and the fear of our imminent discovery prevented my member from performing as it should.

So I slapped his face hard so that he momentarily reeled in pain and instructed him to concentrate on licking my sweaty testicles while I allowed my own expert fingers to massage my cock, stopping only occasionally so as to spit on the queer's face. By doing this I was able to enjoy my own inner fantasy of having my shisha blown by a plump Cairene belly dancer while the dollops of saliva spattering his face reassured me that I had no sympathy, let alone interest, in his own perverted inclinations.

As I felt my orgasm surging, I grabbed his hair violently pulling his already open mouth forwards so as to receive my semen, lest any evidence of our wretched encounter ever be discovered on the floor of the lorry. Then I quickly covered myself again and reminded Adel that his absence on deck would soon be noticed, my passage into Egypt having now been secured.

My arrival at the Al Azhar in Cairo held out the promise of finding a deeper spiritual satisfaction. Al Azhar was the world's oldest university. The first lecture delivered in 975AD. Its' porticoed mosque and buildings stood at the heart of Islamic Cairo; the crowded threadlike streets constantly alive to the honking traffic and the petitions of beggars, gold and copper merchants and souvenir salesmen.

It was here where I first made contact with a few other middle class students who shared an adventurous and romantic inclination, fortified by youthful idealism, to join the Taliban in their jihad to create a new Umma or Islamic nation in Afghanistan. I was twenty nine, a student of Islamic studies and, despite my age, a little naive. I do not wish to disclose who at the University was my spiritual guru but his inspirational magic also effected my best friend Omar (false name.) In Afghanistan, he promised us, we could finally be true mujahideen. Holy warriors like those that had defended the Prophet in the epic battles around Mecca and Medina so many centuries before. We would be the spearhead, the enabling vanguard, and the bridge on which the Islamic nation would cross over to the victory that is promised and the tomorrow to which we now aspired.

However, for me, it had already become a less glorious ambition. I was desperate to break free from alcohol and sex. How I loathed the Pyramids Road where the clubs reaked of booze and the cheap perfume of down at heel working girls. For all its' worldly pleasures Cairo had become my own private hell.

Sometimes I used to go with Omar and few other students to find the latest hot arrivals on "the Road" - mostly slim dark Eritrean or Sudanese girls. We fucked them with barely disguised contempt, but I think deep down we despised ourselves more for discussing the word of God at Quranic history seminars and then going down to the Road a few hours later to shag sharameet. Doubtless, some Al Azhar students would have been horrified by our activities.

Omar and I had become hopelessly addicted to Cairo's seedy pickup joints. The meaninglessness and pace of Cairene life, the endless smoking of shishas, the noise, the smog, the constant visits to tower block brothels; it had all become too much. We were desperate to put these shameful routines behind us. So we set off for Afghanistan. Our first transit stop would be Karachi, Pakistan. Finally, we hoped, we would discover a stricter more austere, but infinitely more rewarding, existence.

When we landed at Karachi's Quaid-e-Azam international airport we knew it was probably going to be our last opportunity to sample cosmopolitan pleasures. I had secretly feared that among all the touts and officials milling about the arrivals area, I might spot a bearded Taliban meet and greet who would shepherd us in to a waiting Toyota pick-up truck, but on exiting customs we were very much on our own. Obviously Allah had decided to allow us one last opportunity to indulge our veracious sexual appetites, perhaps in order to cellebrate the dawning of a new age. Surely he would forgive us.

We spent almost one thousand rupees between us that night. Much of it on buying the right to deflower a couple of imported virgin Bengali call girls. The normal price was 300 rupees for such a privilege, but due to the recent economic downturn we were getting a bargain at just 150 rupees, the well dressed jawada ( lit. "the open-handed one" or famale pimp ) assured us.

We had obtained helpful directions earlier from one of the university lecturers who had warned us which parts of Karachi "to avoid." He explained that the red light areas of the city had changed little since the British set up official areas of tolerance during the Empire. If he ever reads this, let me say in my own defense that I wasted a little less money than Omar since I didn't tip my girl, but then Omar was from a comfortably off family, his father a senior commander in the Egyptian Air Force, and his wages were subsidized by U.S. aid so I suppose ironically it was the American taxpayer who had indirectly funded our trip.

I should also add, in case readers are annoyed at my ruthless indifference to my virgin's subsequent fate, that I never penetrated her but left that to the next lucky customer. I did spend a little time in idle chat as she had learned some elementary arabic back in her Bangladesh madrasa. I told her about my plan to fight the Americans but she didn't seem too interested. She said that if she had another chance to travel - she wanted to go to America to find work. I reminded her that prostitution was a grave sin and that to sell herself to Americans, would be an unforgivable crime. Besides, how could she remain a virgin that long and once deflowered she would worth no more than so much rotten fish.

Perhaps it was a sense of shame at my own cool conceipt that made me impotent, but I still enjoyed an aggressive ten minutes of kissing. May Allah who knows all abslove me but I could not resist the witchery. Her mouth reminded me of a wide-open cunt and her tongue tasted of exotic fruits and coconut. As I left the bitch even managed a nervous smile. I know she wanted to devour me but some inner strength prevented me from going too far. Yet those moments proved infinitely more pleasurable and memorable than the thirty or forty fucks I had paid for on the Pyramids Road.

The next day, already short of funds and despite a sleepless night, Omar and I caught the 0935 Baluchistan Express to Quetta, a city situated 536 miles north west of Karachi on the mountainous frontier with Afghanistan. For over a hundred years it had been the main route for gun and drug smuggling across the border and now it had become a major jumping off point for would-be Taliban recruits.

Like true penetants, we purchased third class tickets. It was a token but uncomfortable economy. After hours perched on wooden seats my arse felt the same as it had three years earlier when I was raped by two Nubian farmers in Aswan. A sort of bitter-sweet pain. They had invited me to smoke some hashish in the sugar fields by the Nile. Without any encouragement one of them kindly showed me his cock, proclaiming it possibly correctly to be the largest specimen in Upper Egypt, before the other grabbed me from behind and forced me down in to the mud.

Fortunately the mountainous scenery helped to distract a little from the discomfort of such nightmarish memories as the train chugged its' relentless course past dried up river beds and mud villages, and through the steep valleys and tunnels cut through the rock by impoverished Baluchi labourers for their British masters some one hundred years before so that the soldiers of the Empire could tame "the roof of the world.". For much of the time it followed the same route the pervert Alexander "the Great" had taken on his ironfisted campaign of conquest two thousand years before and now we too were on our way to fight an as yet unseen enemy. The new imperialists. The Americans.

The train slowly gathered pace as it began to descend across a wide plateau dotted with Afghan refugee encampments and as dusk fell we arrived at Quetta's noisy railway station. We were tired but ignored the petitions of the numerous touts offering to show us cheap accommodation as we were eager to discover the Taliban recruiting headquarters which other Al Ahzar students had proudly told us about.

We struggled through a busy street market where majestic Pathan traders wearing huge turbans sold everything from Afghan carpets to dried nuts. Yet despite the chaos, finding our way was easier than we had expected as there were several hand painted posters on walls. They appealed to anyone willing to join the jihad. There was one with a picture of a bloody American hand stretched out over a map of Palestine appealing to our own anti-American sentiments and another poster with a picture of Kashmiri freedom fighters which seemed to be aimed more at the Pakistani students. We could read the script as they were phrases in Koranic Arabic. So we just followed the arrows daubed on the bottom of the pictures.

I won't tell you about the dark and seedy office were we finally enrolled as Taliban or about our days of training in Pakistan or how we crossed into Afghanistan. That can wait until another day. But I will tell you a little about our Taliban commander, Basim [name changed]. Myself except, all our unit was comprised of Egyptians and Basim constantly reminisced either about his father's role in the October War or about the girls in Alexandria. He always talked about women but he seemed to hate them.

One day as we approached a village we saw a woman loading a donkey hantoor with bags of tomatoes. The village was otherwise deserted. It was the middle of summer and the woman was exhausted from the heat and her heavy work so that she had removed her burqa. She then pulled out a hijab from a basket and, glancing around her in obvious fear that someone might notice her relative state of undress, quickly donned it but carelessly allowed a lovely fringe of hair to remain uncovered.

I remember feeling aroused but as I was imagining what her voice must sound like I saw Basim slowly raise his rifle and rest it calmly and deliberately on the side of the wall behind which we were concealed. Before anyone could stop him, a single shot ran out and as she fell, I saw Basim glow with unmitigated pride at his marksmanship.

"Sharmurta wehesha" - dirty prostitute -
he declared cooly, as he lowered his rifle.

We hadn't seen a woman for days and several of us felt more contempt at Basim than we had ever felt for the peasant woman. She may not have been conversant with all the hadith but she was working hard for a family. If there were a few who felt she had committed an offence in not wearing the burqa, even they were a little anxious that Basim was becoming a loaded loose cannon. We all called him "Mussolini," jokingly at first, but soon some of us used the nickname with a nervous sincerity, only thinly disguised by humour.

We had been operating in the mountains to the south west of the Panjshir Valley and it was with some luck and great relief that one day we discovered an abandoned Lada Niva four wheel drive by a dried up wadi at the edge of a steep escarpment. Amazingly it seemed undamaged and though the keys were missing it was something of a mystery as to why it had been abandoned. Especially when we discovered a rod for the starter moter left with apparent indifference on the front passenger seat.

But Basim wasted no time deliberating on the mystery. He seized the rod, rolled back the right hand sleeve of his gallibaya revealing more of his bicep muscle than was technically allowed and then thrust the starter handle rod into the front of the bonnet. "Mafeesh moshkila" [no problem] he reassured calmly as he exerted only a portion of his huge strength to turn the motor. But his efforts were rewarded only by the silence of the desert.

Again he tried. This time summoning all his strength with the strain showing clearly on his brow and the patches of sweat rapidly darkening his gallibaya. As I watched him I could sense among my comrades the growing disillusionment with this man's brutality and vanity and seeing a brown paper bag left on the back seat of the car I took it and moments before Basim was to make one last push - I imploded the bag loudly with a clap of my hands. Just as I had expected Basim thought it was a gunshot. His life now seemed to him to be in imminent danger. His exertion on the starter motor handle had already forced him off balance and when the "gunshot" rang out he fell face forward to the ground.

I expected words of anger - even physical violence - as Basim picked himself up from the rocky ground but his crazed reaction was as bizarre as it was intimidating. "Paper bags are haram. You should know that. You fucking little sharmurta [female prostitute]. Son of your mother's cunt. You are finished."

Then, Omar, sensing the situation was already out of hand, tried to restrain Basim. But Basim, now enraged, pulled Omar's restraining hand into an arm lock and threw him head first onto the rocks. I will never forget the cracking noise of Omar's skull splitting open, the crimson gentle flow of blood from his open mouth and the deceptively radiant olive complexion of his skin. Indeed I will never forget any part of the picture. Even the harsh unforgiving contrast of the burning blue sky with the dark crags of the surrounding mountains. The others made no move. They knew Basim's greater strength and power. But I stared at him with a hatred that I could not have disguised and at that moment it was my only consolation that he should know that I would kill him. To my bitter disappointment it seemed that even Basim knew that there were times to be cautious. And he barked at the two men standing next to me. "Take him. Tie His hands up."

Then summoning his one trusted lieutenant he instructed the others to wait by the car while they would take me for my punishment. They began to march me back towards the mountain cave we had left two hours before that morning. They walked some thirty paces behind me and were talking in an angry tone but too quietly to hear.

I wondered what would happen. Surely they would kill me. Nobody would find my body. But would the others perhaps hear the gunshot ring out. Or perhaps the Lieutenant had other ideas.

He was nicknamed "Khashaba" [block of wood] because of the thick solid appearance of his cock. Almost every evening he would casually extract it from his jallibaya as he related stories, by the campfire, of European and Israeli women he had "conquered" when he used to run a small food supermarket in the backpacker beach town of Dahab, back in Egypt.

But everyone knew that his sexual energy now found other even more dubious targets. Afghan village women who were shias - but who he dismissed as "sharmutaat", [prostitutes] and, on at least one ocassion I witnessed, one of their young sons - who he declared would be better of dead than to be indoctrinated into such an evil perversion of the Islamic faith. So Khashaba dragged him by his feet screaming into a farm outhouse after he had got one of us to tie his hands.

I remembered the cries of "No" echoing across the arid valley many times before the boy finally must have aquiesced. I never saw what happened but I already felt I knew too much. I could feel a wind picking up. It was rare to get such a strong breeze at midday. I glanced back at Basim and Khashaba. They were too close for me to try to make a dash and even if I did there was no water for perhaps two hundred miles. In front now I could clearly make out the dark entrance of the cave we had left this morning and I could just make out the large rusty metal munitions box that we had dumped carelessly on our exit. As we got near Basim and Khashaba increased their pace until I sensed they were only a step or two behind me. "Stop." I knew I had no option but to obey. Somehow I had to survive whatever was about to happen. Then calmly Basim instructed me to remove my gallibaya and bend over the rusty metal ammunition box. They were going to beat me, they were going to kill me but did they plan to rape me first ?

Even though my hands were tied, my easy compliance must have surprised them but I knew, if I wanted revenge, that I had to stay alive. But I had to think quickly. I had to make them believe I was harmless or atleast not worth killing. "I am very sorry for my reckless stupidity," I confessed, as I removed my gallibaya. "I deserve to be punished. I know my behaviour was pathetic. I am just like a worthless sharmurta. [prostitute]"

I added the last comment as a calculated risk as I knew neither of them had sex in over six weeks and that they would have willingly had intercourse with a tethered donkey. I hoped my confession conveyed an implicit offer of regular relief. But there was silence. I prayed one of them would not be too afraid to play along with my dangerous offer. Although I felt disgusted at what I was contriving, I was too frightened at the imminent possibility of death to really care.

I bent naked over the ammunition box as I had been instructed and deliberately spread my legs as wide as possible. Surely they couldn't mistake the sacrifice I was offering up to them.

Now, I could hear them talking quietly again but this time in the way mischevious children whisper secrets to each other. Then, at last, and with pathetic relief, I could hear the crunch of small scree stones as one of them approached. But what would he do ? I heard him load his rifle, and the emptry cartridge drop out. Now I knew real fear. My last thoughts were bizarrely philosophic and abstract on friendship and its' importance. I was just wondering whether my comrades would miss me when I felt the cold rifle but touch my behind. Then he pushed it with slow and deliberate care up my arse, and though I realized this could be my undignified exit from this world, I carefully and modestly feigned pleasure, moving my arse upwards and allowing the muzzle end of the rifle to ease my cheeks apart.

He spat contemptuously at my arse hole. Three times."You fucking sharmurt. I will sodomize you every day of your life." I have never been so happy in all my life. Not because I am gay but because here in his contempt was the offer of life. The sweetest gift that can be given. Now I knew it was Basim but strangely I had to fight a confused feeling of love for him - like that of a child for a harsh abusive father. He would treat me with contempt and yet my future lay in his hands. When he thrust his penis into my arse it was more painful than I had ever imagined and I think he realized that and that it pleased him that he was violating virgin territory -that he was the first to conquer me. Khashaba would have to make do with whatever sordid mess remained.

Strangely his hands didn't touch me, even though it would have been an easier job for him if he had helped to steady my body's reactions to his immense physical force - perhaps some ninety kilos of muscle. I think he felt that if he touched me it would be a sign of humanity, a sign of weakness. It would no longer be my punishment but an act bordering, if somewhat dubiously, on love.

With each thrust his penis grew in size and it became more painful. Much more painful. So painful I had to try desperately hard not to scream in pain, to make any move to escape. As his thrusts grew in speed and depth I still tried desperately hard to feign gasps of pleasure in ever more desperate attempts to earn both his total trust and complete contempt. Every now and then he would withdraw his cock, much to my relief, spit on it on and then push it back in with more force than he thought I could take. Again and again, he rammed it as far as he could up my hole. I thought the nightmare would never end. Several times I couldn't help letting out a barely restrained scream of agony, but I immediately cried out "aiywa" (yes) to disguise my desperation. I could hear his breathing grow heavier as the weight of his entire body bore down via his penis into the very depths of my being. I forcefully mastered my desperate wish to struggle free and instead tried with all my willpower to relax my buttock muscles and allow his penis to penetrate deeper than I had ever imagined possible.

I thought it would soon be over but I now sensed that Khashaba was also moving in for his share of the kill. I heard his approach and then suddenly he was squatting in front of me. Throwing up his gallibaya he asked me "Takul zubree ?" "Do you want to suck my cock ?"

I was surprised he asked, rather than just doing it, although he knew I was in no position to refuse. I told him it was my dream to take it all in my mouth. But he wasn't going to let me have it so easy.

"First, you lick my arse, whore !" and he turned his behind to me and, as my hands were bound, he was kind enough to open the cheeks so my tongue could lick inside. It was the most degrading moment of my life but I knew I had no choice. How much I was learning about my self. How low human beings could go in order to cling to life.

It was not only a vile task, but because Basim was still thrusting through my body from behind with the full weight of his, it was a difficult just to keep my head sufficiently upright so my tongue could find its way inside Khashaba's hole. Then Khashaba turned round and lifted up his cock so that his smelly testicles dangled in front of my tongue. "Lick them. Lick my balls." I paused for a second because the smell of unwashed flesh was so strong. "Lick them, Whore. Lick them." "Shukran" [Thank You} I stammered, half in apology for the momentary delay as my tongue cut its way through the thick hair around his balls. Obviously he hadn't shaved himself for some time. But I was distracted from this unpleasantness by the intolerable pain created by Basim's ever deeper and faster penetration of my behind.

Several times now Basim spat on my arse as his breathing mounted. His heightened excitement seemed to infect Khashaba who now forced the whole of his massively thick penis into my mouth. Khashaba pushed the entire weight of his body to force it deep down into my throat so that I was desperate to cough to expel this suffocating intrusion. Especially, as now I was sandwiched between two merciless forces driving every ounce of energy and life from me. Just then, however, Basim suddenly extracted himself and although khashaba's thrusting thighs obscured most of my vision I could just make out a dust cloud on the horizon and a shimmering black spec at it's centre which slowly began to emerge into the form of a distant, but approaching, vehicle.

Basim watched nervously, but Khashaba was not going to have his climax postponed by anything. As he told us when he once pulled a shia woman by her hair into a vacant workshop "Don't disturb me for anything - even if Osama is assasinated." Now the rapid approach of the unidentified vehicle only hastened his thrusts. Deeper and deeper, while his hands squeezed my head tightly in a vice like grip. Then he began to take quick short breaths and moaned "fucking sharmurt" [fucking male whore] several times before ejaculating deep down inside my throat.

As he stepped back he dropped his gallibaya over his slowly deflating penis, like some giant high altitude balloon slowly losing air. He was contemplative and looked disatisfied. "You were a crap fuck," he told me as he turned away to view the approaching vehicle which was now barely a mile away. Still, Basim watched passively as the car approached. I pulled my gallibaya back over my head. Suddenly Basim seemed anxious. Straining my eyes I now recognised that the car was the very same Lada Niva which three hours earlier Basim had been unable to start.

For a few moments more Basim watched, a look of concentrated concern growing more apparent. Then suddenly he began to run for the cave. Khashaba also started to run, moments later. But too late. As a gunshot crack sounded, he fell to the ground at the same instant. Basim, not looking back, made it to the cave, dodging one last bullet. I froze. I prayed that I too was not a target, for I realized that with my hands tied and no weapon I had little chance. The car pulled up a few feet from me and a senior Taliban commander, equivalent in rank to major, got out, along with a more junior officer and two soldiers, one of them from my unit.

The major looked at me sympathetically and with it seemed not inconsiderable interest. "I know what was happening here. Your colleagues warned me. These men that did this to you were inhuman. You have done nothing wrong. You are a good and decent soldier. Your colleagues say you have excellent engineering skills. I need someone like you to work with me at our headquarters in Kandahar. Interested ?"

Little did I realize that my agreement would embark me on yet another journey into the sordid world of sex exploitation in the ranks of the sex-starved Taliban - but this time I was to discover the true character and hypocrisy of those in the highest political, religious and military ranks. What I was to discover would be truly shocking.