BEHRANG AND JACOB
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
At 10:00 p.m., most of the cubicles were empty, the screens either dark or carrying dancing bologna screensavers. Here and there were a saucy bouquet of daisies, a framed photo of a family, an off-beat coffee mug. Small attempts to turn the ubiquitous cubicles into something unique, though on the whole, they were lost causes.
A voice was murmuring from one of the cubicles, and Jacob smiled. It was Behrang as usual. He had contacts in the Middle East through his family, and maybe he had stayed for some late-night telephone conference on the other side of the globe.
Then the voice got louder and Jacob realized that it was in English. And Behrang, calm placid Behrang, was furious, his normally low-toned voice raised up to a near shriek. "Well, then, since you don't know enough to even wipe your own ass-crack, write down my number and have somebody with a little hair on their dick call me back!"
Jacob hurried over as Behrang wrapped up with his name (he had to spell it three times for the person on the other end of the phone) and telephone number and hung up. Jacob reached Behrang's cubicle just in time to see Behrang slam down the telephone and lean back in his chair, slumping languidly, legs sprawled wide and arms hanging off at forty-five degree angles, hands cupped in repose like floating lotus blossoms in a pond.
"I hope that wasn't one of the company's clients." Jacob said, only half-joking. Nobody got a job with Stern & Mather unless they had some of their own clientele, but by the same token, nobody worked on this floor with its sea of cubicles unless their client base was too small to make it on their own yet.
Behrang turned the chair around, looking like some Arabian prince lolling about on exotic cushions, smiled easily. "No. But I shouldn't have gotten mad." Despite his pure-Persian dark good looks, Behrang was American-born. He carried dual citizenship, USA and Iran, for his father had been the local consul prior to the Shah's downfall. Now his father was long out of work except for speaking with ex-patriated Iranian royalists, and Behrang made his own living by administering the rather substantial assets of these ex-patriates, some of whom had returned to live in Iran.
"What's going on?"
"Shareholder's meeting of my fund." Behrang explained. He only had the one fund, and Jacob knew it, a special fund for his more devout Muslim customers which avoided "riba" or anything that earned or charged interest, even such mundane things as CD's or bonds. Jacob had never found out how Behrang made any money out of the fund. Of course, he was working here.
"What are they voting on?" Jacob asked.
"Whether to keep me on as their manager." Behrang said. "Seeing how I have soiled my hands by dealing in usury here on this job, though I have diligently never let it touch their fund in any way. The question is whether my use of the firm's computers which do deal in usury is contamination enough."
Jacob whistled. To be fired as a manager of his only account...Behrang would lose his job here as well if that happened.
The anger Behrang had shown earlier flashed again. "I cannot find out where they are meeting. I cannot get the son of a camel at my uncle's firm to connect me to where they are meeting, even without telling me. I cannot find out anything about what is going on. I can only sit here and wait. That camel dung of an assistant has promised me that he will have my uncle call me when the meeting has ended." He turned around and punched the keys of his computer savagely, the Hong Kong market popped up on his screen, it had just opened a short time before. He pored over the numbers there as if doing so may open some window into an uncertain future.
Jacob regarded the strong, broad back all tensed up like a crouching panther, and his hands reached out without conscious thought. Caught Behrang by the shoulders and began to massage those stiff, rock-hard muscles.
It wasn't that uncommon for people to give each other a back-rub on this computer-heavy job; Behrang quickly relaxed into it and sat back up in his chair. Jacob dug his fingers into those stiff, clenched shoulders, felt the muscles slowly relax and lengthen and warm under his probing fingers and thumbs.
Behrang was making some warm sounds of relaxation and pleasure. They struck Jacob as almost a purring sound, and he snickered. "That's my little Persian kitty."
Behrang laughed, too, and the sound was smooth and comfortable, accepting. "That's me. Rub my stomach and I'll roll over onto my back." he said.
"Do you promise?" Jacob teased and without waiting for an answer, leaned over and ran one hand down the smooth, ridged chest and onto the rippled stomach. His palm made a circular motion as his cheek brushed Behrang's ear. "How's that working?"
"Lower." murmured Behrang.
Jacob's hand went down below the navel, feeling the smooth abdominal. There was a time when his fingertips just brushed the area below, and felt the hardness beneath that. "Is that it?" Jacob whispered huskily.
"Lower." Behrang urged him.
Jacob's hand surged over the stiff pole in Behrang's pants, gripped and fondled it through the cloth, Behrang hissed like a snake with the intake of his breath, then released it in more audible sounds, his moans like some grumbling carnivore intent upon its food, the husky growls warning others away even as it feasted on the hot flesh, the crackling bones, chewing on the thick fur of its prey.
Behrang's arms went up and around Jacob's upper chest, held him and Jacob's hands rubbed, rubbed, hard, harder, rub, harder, and Behrang hissed and with a sharp near-roar he broke away from Jacob, stood up. His leg kicked the rolling chair away from between them, it rebounded off the cubicle wall and then off Jacob to roll away again, like the ball in a pinball machine, with the same dull roar of steel rolling over the hard floor.
Behrang stepped up and now his body pressed against Jacob's, and Jacob felt the strength of his arms and smelled the musk of his body and tasted the nectar of his lips with his own! Those dark eyes never closed in the kiss, Jacob saw them peering into his own throughout, dark, deep, burning black coals that lingered on the flames of their lust and glowed like twin embers.
Behrang's hands went down and caught Jacob's buttocks, pulled them against his own crotch and Jacob again felt that fiery poker, now trying to stab him through the layers of cloth, and with Behrang a bit shorter than him, it dug into the junction of his thighs, found a slight purchase there and throbbed in its need as Behrang's hips swiveled and thrust against him, squirming in a burning dance with his penis likr a sword that thrust at Jacob's bowels.
Seeing that fire, understanding the need to control this as Behrang could control nothing else just now, Jacob lowered himself before this dusky, vital, dark-haired, dark-eyed man, watching as Behrang fought his belt open, his fly undone, his zipper lowered, his boxers parted and with a burst of dark curving excitement, this deep-brown dong pointed at him with its avid, purple head and glistening eye.
His hand took Behrang's prick, feeling the hot, near-burning power of it as it pulsed in his hand, he skinned it back and up and the glans slit poured a thick stream of clear energy at him, which won him a shuddering "ahhhh!" from Behrang.
"Come on, take it." Behrang murmured to him, it was an order but one gently given, not peremptory, and Jacob reached out with his tongue to taste the tip, his taste buds burned with the hot stream of precome that impacted upon them with a fury of salty, slippery, sizzling juice! He let that flavor guide his mouth and he gently, slowly wrapped them around the plum-colored glans and slid them over the dun-colored foreskin and down the tan-colored shaft that was ribbed with thick blue veins just beneath the skin, and as he reached the limit of his ability on that first, nearly dry voyage, Behrang groaned at him. "Uhhhhhhh!"
Jacob gripped the foreskin tightly at his furthest reach and holding tightly he pulled back, letting the brown velvety skin slip only slowly away from his reach, bringing most of it with him, feeling that hard knob at the crest buckling and fighting the skin, and then relinquishing and the foreskin burst over the glans and Behrang shuddered, "Oooh!"
His lips caught on the flare of this dark prong's head, and he let it catch there, savoring the musky flavor of the salty fluid pouring out upon his tongue, and then he slid back down, slowly once again, and this hard, tawny cobra of manflesh slithered upon his tongue and down his throat, and this time he felt the balls touch, barely touch, his chin, the hairs tickling him, and then he was at his furthest reach once again, and he held it there, then pulled up again, a warm ripple of satin flesh touching his lips as he did.
They were alone in this ocean of cubicles, an island of light in a sea-and-sky of darkness, and in this oasis of light, Jacob milked slowly and steadily upon Behrang's prong, Behrang rewarding his efforts with small sounds, droplets of encouragement and delight, ah, ah, ah! It was intimate, it was isolated, it was wonderful, even as Behrang began to moan more intensely, more intently, he was building in his passion and Jacob looked up into those eyes, those powerful dark eyes, and he bent to his task with a renewed will.
Behrang moaned, he writhed, he squirmed in Jacob's mouth, sending that hard prick jabbing at his cheeks, it was like holding down a tiger, and Behrang caught his head, crammed that dick in hard, deep, strong, it slid down Jacob's mouth like a sword-swallower's foil, and as it boiled within his throat, Behrang clenched his teeth like rows of pearls, he moaned like the rising wind, he thrust like the raging ocean, and the heat of burning jism seared Jacob's gullet, he was taking Behrang's load deep, too deep to taste, too deep to resist, so deep he could only look up into Behrang's eyes once again, as the fiery seed churned out of that lusty man above him and he worked his throat and it rippled against Behrang's pud like a camel moving under its rider.
Done, panting, Behrang held him tightly still, and then pulled out, Jacob felt that hefty prick pull out of him with resistance yet, it was a thick, slimy snake that exited his body, and then Behrang was free of him and the spit-soaked prick slapped his hairy thighs and saliva drooled off of it in a thick, gray, streaming rope of slime.
Jacob coughed, cleared his throat, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, stood up and looked at his erstwhile Arabian lover.
Behrang was considerate, at least in hindsight. "Are you all right?" he asked, all concern and solicitude.
"I'll live.' Jacob grinned at him. "You were really wrought up, weren't you?"
"I was. I am." Behrang admitted. "This waiting is damnable. How long can they talk about this, they have been at it for at least four hours."
"I don't know, but I'll wait with you." Jacob said. "I know I'd appreciate a friend if my fund threatened to fire me."
Behrang's lips trembled and he stepped into Jacob's arms again, and this time he was a little boy in need of protection and comfort. Jacob gave him that, feeling the dusky youth in his arms, and now he was the elder and the stronger and the one in control. Behrang felt it, too, and he looked up, even though taller, he was hunched over and bent-kneed, he looked up into Jacob's eyes, and he murmured. "Fuck me."
Jacob smiled at him as a father might to a son. "I thought you'd never ask." he said.
Behrang knelt now as Jacob undid his fly, Jacob's cock as it dove into the air was immediately seized and nurtured, softened, slickened by Behrang's lips and tongue, then Behrang stood and let his trousers fall to his knees, he turned around and presented his beautifully globular buttocks to Jacob. "Fuck me." he said again, simply.
With a hardened, spit-slippery dong, Jacob didn't hesitate, he stepped up and guided his prick into that narrow, hairy, black-dark crevice. It took a bit of hunting in that jungle for the small cavern into Behrang's body, but on his third stab at those wonderfully toast-colored buns, Jacob found the skin giving way to him.
Delicious! That was the only word Jacob could think/feel/sense as his cock slid into the warmth and the moistness and the near-painfully-delightful heat of Behrang's ass. It didn't resist him in any important way, it was like this anus had been opened and stretched for him before, he only had to enter it and it welcomed him. Jacob found the way unimpeded all the way up until his eight inches were completely imbedded in Behrang's sultry ass.
Delicious! His cock was assaulted on all sides by warm sensations of heat and stimulus and the crackling joy of sexual signals that crawled all over his dong, bringing it all to life on him at once. He loathed to pull back from this source of total joy, but the trip was delightful as well, his cock floated upon waves of joy, it sparked surges of passion that traveled throughout his body.
Forcing himself to be slow about it, forcing himself to be gentle as well though this ass seemed to scorn such a need, Jacob slow-fucked Behrang, and Behrang's head was thrown upwards in the joy of being possessed, the hair on his head was only slightly askew, a lock here and there out of place, giving him the look of a stallion; he was tamed, but only barely, only barely, only the masterful could ride him!
And Jacob was riding him, his hands held him in place while his hips slapped at Behrang's buttocks, Behrang panted with the light joy of post-orgasmic submission, his own passion was behind him but in this he could extend and exult in the afterglow, for the sex was not over yet, and as long as it went on, his body would remain in this triumphant gleam, basking in the light of satiety, and again those ripples of pleasure came from his lips, the sound Jacob called a purr of his Persian kitten!
But this was no handful of domestic cat, this was a full-grown animal of dark, feline beauty, he was one with it and it was with him, not in subservience, but in equality, and his cock throbbed with the knowledge of this gift of equals, and he felt his climax growing inside of him like a slow-rising flood. He forced himself to remain in a rhythmic embrace, keeping the tempo even and smooth, though his body craved instead to jerk and writhe and rut upon Behrang, and somehow he didn't want this to happen, he wasn't some animal pumping Behrang's butt, he was a man taking this man as his own, it had to be special, it had to be right, it had to be...climactic!
Like a surge of heated water about his body, his orgasm found him, caught him, enveloped him. He had to cling to it tightly for it threatened to slip away from him even as his body tensed to spray its package into Behrang's body, only discipline and strength kept him rising on this surge of delight and at last, at long last, slow and warm and jubilant in victory, he gasped and his sperm gushed out of him, pouring rather than spraying, flowing rather than spurting, and it flowed into Behrang and it took possession of him in this way a peppering, jerking climax never could have, it melded them together rather than severing them in ejaculation, and he groaned and clung to Behrang tighter, rested his body upon Behrang's back as he felt the last of his seed flow into Behrang, and then there was only himself, a simple man holding this dark god of being, and he felt successful and yet abashed, not quite ashamed, but rather at a loss as to how to redeem himself after this ignominious use of Behrang's body by pour slimy juice into his buttocks.
Then Behrang laughed, and that laugh redeemed everything, Jacob chuckled in his own turn, and he caught his breath, and said, "Well, now we can wait all night if we have to."
"Yes, we can." Behrang said. "Sit down, my friend."
"What about you?" Jacob said. "I can fetch a chair."
"No. Take my chair." Behrang said.
Jacob understood when he did so, Behrang's chair was large and stable, not the average office chair, and it let Behrang sit comfortably in Jacob's lap, though it tilted back at an alarming angle, there was no instability about it, and they cuddled like this.
"What are you going to do if they let you go?" Jacob asked after a time.
Behrang shrugged. "I have my own money. Some, anyway. I guess I'll work out of my home until I can build up my stake."
"How will you do that without...usury?" Jacob asked.
"Not all Muslims ascribe to the tenents of riba." Behrang pointed out. "If I did, I couldn't be working here."
"Oh." Jacob said.
Behrang's telephone rang. It was just out of their reach. It rang again. And again, as Behrang didn't move.
"That's the call." Jacob said on the third ring.
"I know. All is as Allah wills." Behrang sighed, and now he moved. "Be with me when I'm done." And he picked up the phone and said, "Behrang here."
"I will. I promise." Jacob said. Behrang could move in with him if he needed to. Hell, even if he didn't need to. He wondered how his family, mostly Conservative Jews, would feel about his taking a Muslim lover?
Ah, well, he sighed to himself, managed a smile. All is as Allah wills! Oy, gevalt!
One of those two ought to cover it!
THE END
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