Chapter Two
Once Upon a Time
What is it in life that seems to insinuate itself into a being when everything seem to be going smoothly? I had been living a happy fulfilled life and was on the verge of middle age when there was a change.
I had been invited to give a workshop at one of the local sister universities in the city. The participants were graduate students, not only from the host school but also from regional institutions including the one at which I taught. It was a three day event, morning, afternoon and evening sessions and I prepared long hours so that I might give the participants their `monies worth.' The group, fifteen in all, were from various disciplines and either studying for their master's degree or doctorate. The majority were Americans, but there were a few foreign students as well. One, in particular, attracted my attention due to his thorough preparation and incisive intellect. I assumed that he was a foreign student. He appeared Middle Eastern. The first day, during a coffee break, Imran came up to me, excused himself and asked for a point of clarification. His English was flawless, but I though I detected a slight accent.
After I had covered the point of concern, I asked, "Imran, where are you from?"
"I was born in South Dakota," he stated.
"Oh?" I stated, a bit surprised, and added, "I thought I detected a slight accent. But I guess I was mistaken."
He smiled and dissolved my consternation by saying, "My parents are Pashtun from western Pakistan. Guess I must have picked up my `accent' from them."
"I assume, then that you are Muslim. Is there a Muslim community where you live?"
He laughed and explained, "No, there is only two other Pakistani families where I live besides mine. Besides my family is rather . . . . liberal. We are Muslim but not practicing Muslims."
I smiled and confessed, "My family is Christian, rather fundamental I may add, but I'm not a practicing Christian. We are in similar boats, so to speak."
"Inshallah," he commented with a broad smile.
"Indeed," I added.
I must admit from the outset I was drawn to this man. He had beautiful, flashing dark brown eyes, a full head of black curly hair, a prominent nose, strong jaw, sensuous looking lips and an amazing smile. Imran was about six-foot-two and lanky and had a confident demeanor. I assumed that at the conclusion of the workshop he would go his way and that would be that.
About a week later I was walking across the campus when I heard a familiar, "Prof!"
I turned ad saw Imran walking up to me. "Well, what a nice surprise," I stated and added, "What are you doing here?"
"I go to school here," came the simple reply.
"Oh!" I said. "How about a cup of coffee?"
"Sure."
We walked to the Student Union, picked up our coffee and found a table in the Student Cafe.
"I really enjoyed your workshop," he commented.
"Thank you, but you didn't have to say that."
"No, really I did."
"Thanks," I smiled.
We chatted about his degree program and after a while, we took our leave of each other and went our separate ways.
A week later I spied him while i was in the lunch line at the Student Cafe. After I had made my selection, I walked over to his table where he was sitting alone and asked, "May I join you?"
"Yes, of course. It would be nice to have an eating companion."
I sat down and we began a long conversation, mostly about his classes but also some personal banter.
"Are you married?" he asked,
"Divorced,"
"Oh? I'm sorry," he stated sympathetically.
"I'm not!"
His eyes opened wide with surprise at my forthright answer.
I laughed, "Don't mean to shock you, but it was pleasant enough while it lasted," I admitted, "But things deteriorated quickly and we parted ways."
"It happens," he stated matter of factly.
"Are you married, Imran?"
"No, but I was engaged to be married, but things deteriorated quickly and we parted ways," he mimicked with mock sarcasm and flashed a brilliant smile.
"It happens," I stated with an equally sarcastic grin.
"Touché."
We ate our lunch quietly.
"Imran, do you eat here regularly?"
"Not if I can help it. I'm on a limited budget, and besides the food is rather bland here."
"Well you would like to come over to my place some night for dinner. I'm a rather good cook. I'm not too familiar with Pakistani cuisine, but I promise not to serve you pork!"
He chuckled and asked, "No pork and no attempts at conversion!"
"Done! As long as you don't try to convert me. I don't look good in long robes!
He guffawed, a deep throaty laugh. "I promise."
We exchanged phone numbers.
"Maybe you could come over Saturday next for dinner?"
"That would be nice."
That Saturday, at precisely 7:00, the time we agreed upon, Imran rang my door bell. I have always appreciated punctual people. I opened the door and invited him in. He handed my a paper sack containing a bottle of wine.
"Well, thank you, but I thought Muslims don't drink."
"We don't, but that doesn't stop me from bringing you a bottle," he replied with a twinkle. Then he sniffed the air. "What are you cooking? It smells great."
"Curried chicken with rice Biryani and veggies with yogurt."
His eyes widened, "I thought you didn't cook Pakistani food!"
"I never said that! Besides it's an old family Indian recipe," I lied.
Laughing he retorted, "Pakistani, Indian, it's all the same."
"Not quite! Indians don't eat beef and Pakistanis only eat halal meat."
"Damn!"
"Come, sit. I have a few things to attend to in the kitchen."
Imran sat on the sofa while I brought him a glass of cool juice before I returned to the kitchen.
Later, I announced that dinner was ready. We sat at the table in the dining alcove just off the kitchen.
"Do you want to eat with your hand or would you prefer knife, fork and spoon?"
He glanced at me, surprised. "You know a lot about Pakistani culture. But, you forget I am an American. . . knife, fork and spoon, please"
The dinner was a success. I felt little trepidation as I was a fair cook and anything other that the Student Cafe fare would be appreciated by any student. Imran ate his fair share, taking a second portion of the chicken.
"I'll clear the table. You make yourself at home in the living room. We'll have desert and coffee in there."
"OK."
I quickly cleared the table and brought a tray with a plate of sliced fresh fruit and two steaming cups of Turkish coffee into the living room. Imran had been browsing my substantial book cases. One also held a selection of DVD. Some of them were porn. "Hope he hasn't seen those," I thought. Wouldn't want to spook him.
We sat and nibbled the fruit and sipped the aromatic coffee.
"This has be a great dinner, Prof."
"Thanks," I answered.
"You have some great books, one in particular I might ask to borrow, if that isn't too forward."
"No of course not, But my over due fees are quite high," I added with a chuckle.
He returned the laugh, "I'll be prompt," and added, "You've got some interesting DVDs as well," he stated, arching his eyebrow and smiling, knowingly.
"Hope none of them offended you."
"I'm an American, Prof, I don't offend easily. But I must say, some of those you wouldn't find in the Karachi bazaar!"
"Some you wouldn't find in K-Mart either," I said with a smile. "Would you like to view one?"
"Yeah, but it's getting late."
"It's only nine o'clock! Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"
"Haven't lately."
"OK, then, any particular DVD catch your eye?"
"No, not particularly. You make the choice."
"A little porn?" I asked. Frankly by then my interest in Imran had flowered into something more than pedantic curiosity.
"Sure. Why not?"
Our conversation and the coziness of the evening caused me to wonder. "Should I put on a rocking gay DVD? Naw! Maybe a restrained bisexual one." I carefully choose a film sure to please. I inserted the DVD into the player, clicked the play button and asked, "Imran, do you want another cup of coffee?"
"Please."
I went into the kitchen to get the coffee. "If the first scene isn't to his liking or offensive he can turn it off without loosing face," I thought. I returned to the living room with a scene of two guys, actually two hunks and one stunning girl cavorting on a bed, nude. I set the coffee on the coffee table and sat on the sofa with Imran, but at a safe distance. His eyes were glued to the screen.
"Have you ever watched porn before?" I queried.
"No," he answered huskily, "But I have seen porn magazines."
Soon the scene shifted to one of the men fondling the girls breast while she played with the other guy's cock. It was hard and rampant. I thought I heard a slight gasp.
The girl began to suck the cock of the guy she was fondling while the other guy tongued his way down to her shaved pussy.
"Ah . . . .do men and women in America . . . .ah . . . .shave themselves?" he asked huskily.
"No, not usually, but some do. Usually porn stars do."
"Mmmm. . . ."
" Do men and women in Pakistan shave themselves?"
"I don't know about women, but men usually do," he admitted.
"Mmmm. . . ."
Then the man who was tonguing the girl moved up and slid his hard cock into the woman cunt.
Imran gasped quietly.
Then the other guy maneuvered himself so that his pussy fucking companion could suck his hard cock into his mouth!
Again, Imran gasped, this time, audibly.
I quietly glanced over to my guest and saw an obvious bulge in his pants. Imran glanced over at me and quickly covered his offending bulge with this two hands and blushed.
"Nothing to be embarrassed over. It's quite natural, " I said nodding towards his covered erection.
His eyes returned to the screen. As the fucker was pistoning the girls pussy, his head, in rhythm bobbed up and down in his companion's cock. Peripherally, I noticed one of Imran's hands squeezing his hardened cock. The scene changed and the two men were in the soixante-neuf position sucking each other's cock. Imran gulped and continued to massaged his cock surreptitiously. As the two men sucked each other the girl extracted a dildo from the bed side table and inserted it into one of the guy's ass. Imran lurched and uttered, "Allahmah!"
My own cock by now was erect, but not from the scenes on the screen. My eyes had been riveted for the past few minutes on Imran's crotch. I moved over to my guest and placed my hand on his thigh, near his knee. He glanced at me, and then back to the screen. He made no move to remove my hand. I began to softly rub up and down his quaking thigh, drawing ever closer to the prominent bulge. He made no move. Soon I had arrived at his cupping hands and gently moved under them til my hand felt his hard, hot cock through the material. He made no move. I grasped his cock and squeezed it lightly. He made no move but groaned slightly. As I manipulated his cock, he drew his cupping hands away giving me unimpeded access to his steely rod. His hard cock lurched beneath my hand every time I squeezed it.
"Is this bothering you?" I asked quietly.
He merely shook his head, nothing else. I began to rub my grasping hand up and down the length of his encased erection. Imran groaned and slid forward a bit on the sofa. His breath was coming is shallow gasps as he watched the screen and luxuriated in my manipulation.
"Let's go to the bedroom," I suggested and stood up. He stared at me blankly.
I reached out to him and he tentatively took my hand and stood up uneasily.
As we walked out of the living room, I shut off the DVD player. He passively followed my lead to the bedroom.
"Let's make ourselves comfortable." Saying this I began to strip. Leadenly, Imran stood there and watched me. As I finally lowered by briefs his eyes darted down to my hard, upstanding cock and locked on to it, visually.
"Do you want to stop," I asked softly.
Imran neither nodded nor shook his head. He was totally immobile. I took his passive, non-response as an affirmation. I stepped up to him and grasped the hem of his polo shirt and drew it over his head. Then I did the same to his singlet. Suddenly he was impelled into action and kicked off his shoes, but went no further. Gingerly I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the top button of his pants and zipped his fly open. All the time I gazed into his eyes, gaging his reaction. There appeared to be none. He was passive, acquiescent, seemingly resigned. I lowered his pants over his hips and they fell to his ankles. Again he moved. . . stepping clear of his pants. He stood there covered only by his tented boxers. I grasped the waist band and slowly lowered them, watching him intently. They fell to his ankles and Imran instantly covered his burgeoning cock with his hands. I knelt down and carefully lifted one foot then the other from the confines of the crumpled
boxers, removing his sox at the same time.
Standing up, I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Imran, you are a handsome man. There is no need to be ashamed." Then gently I pried his hands from his cock. He dropped his hands to his side freeing his cock. His rampant rod lurched up at a 45 degree angle from horizontal and stood there proudly. Imran's cock was quite substantial, nearly eight inches in length, neither thick nor thin and with a prominent corpus running up the ventral side. His cock head was distinctly bulbous as the corona flared dramatically from the shaft and arched over to his piss slit. Imran's pubes were trimmed and they stood out like a dark five o'clock shadow against his pale lower belly and thighs.
He stood thusly, blushing crimson.
I led him to the bed and gently lowered him to a prone position. All the time he never took his eyes from mine. I lay beside him and wrapped my arm across his chest and drew him to me.
"Are you all right?"
He nodded his head.
"Can you no longer speak, Imran?"
Imran looked at me a bit frightened.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"NO!" he blurted out, Then the dam broke and he offered a brief, explanatory litany.
"I have never seen a . . . naked . . . man . . . before!"
"I have never been . . . naked in front of another . . . man before!"
"I have never had anybody touch my . . . my . . . cock before!"
"I have never seen another man's . . . hard . . . cock before."
"I have never allowed anyone to see me . . . hard . . . before."
After that list, that confession, he was silent again.
I reached down and lightly grasped his cock and commanded, "Imran, look down."
He lowered his eyes.
"What do you see?" I asked.
"Your hand . . . "
"AND?"
"My . . . cock."
"What is my hand doing?"
"Holding . . . my . . .cock."
"How does it feel?"
"Good."
"Now, look down at me."
He did.
"What do you see?"
"Your . . . cock. Your hard . . .cock."
"Do you want to hold it?"
He nodded his head but lay inert, unmoving.
"Hold my cock Imran."
Slowly his hand moved over my thigh and tentatively grasped my cock.
"How does it feel?"
"Good," was all he said.
I rolled towards him and lightly kissed him on the lips. He did not move away. Then I kissed him again and felt his tongue touch my lips. We locked in a long, deep, passionate, probing kiss. Both of us groaned with passion. Then I kissed and licked his neck.
"Ahhhh!" he groaned.
Moving lower, I licked one erect nipple then the other. Imran had the most amazing, dark, silver dollar sized areolas with nipples nearly a quarter-of-an-inch in diameter. They were obviously sensitive as he groaned when I licked each of them. His body torqued as I lightly sucked one of them into my mouth, tonguing that small erect form.
I moved down to his abs and laved them with my tongue.
He spasmed again and groaned.
Soon my mouth moved to the base of his hard cock. I tilted it towards my open lips and sucked half of it into my mouth.
Imran jolted up to a sitting position.
"What are you doing!" came the raspy, insistent, demanding question.
I looked back at him and stated simply, "I'm sucking your cock! Do you want me to stop?"
"Allahmah," he stated and fell back.
I started to suck his rigid cock again. He groaned, "Ahhhh!" audibly.
His eyes were tightly closed as I orally ministered to his rampant cock.
"Imran, open your eyes."
He did. They were wide in disbelief.
"Watch me Imran," I asked as my eyed locked onto his face. I licked around and over his large, conspicuous cock head, a true helmet. Then I opened my mouth wide and slipped nearly the whole length of his cock in.
"Ahhhh!" he gasped, but still he watched.
"What did you see, Imran? What did you see me doing"
"My . . . my cock . . . in your . . . mouth," he whispered huskily.
"What was I doing?"
"Sucking . . . my . . . cock."
I wasn't teasing him or torturing him with these questions. But, I felt that Imran needed to come to grips with what was happening to him and verbalize what was happening. That way he could either accept or reject the implications.
"I love sucking your cock, Imran."
"Mmmmm. I like it too."
I shifted my position, moved his legs apart and knelt between them, never for an instant removing my mouth from this newly found treasure. I bobbed up and down on his steely, hard dick, swirling my tongue over its captured surface at the same time. I lifted off his cock creating a popping sound as my lips passed over his flared cock head. Lowering my head, I licked his balls--first one, then the other. I sucked one ball into my mouth and tongued it. His scrotum was decidedly low hanging and elastic as I first sucked one into my mouth then the other one. For the next few minutes I split my attention between his cock and his balls.
Ever since first touching his hard cock in the living room, I had risen to a level of delicious, lascivious eroticism. He was a virgin, a neophyte, so there was no question of him sucking me, much less letting me fuck him. This was my sexy Pashtun's night. This was Imran's night.
I broke our sensual dance, moved up beside him and caught my breath.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"Yes," was whispered.
"How do you feel?"
"OK, good . . . Ah, I don't know. Confused, I guess."
As we talked I held his steely, hard cock in my hand--not wanting to break contact. With my other hand I reached into the side table drawer and drew out a tube of K-Y, slid back down to his cock and again knelt between his quivering thighs. I looked up to his face. His eyes were again closed and I saw beads of sweat on his forehead an upper lip. I squeezed a dollop of K-Y onto my fingers and began to prepare my tight hole for my ultimate gift to this wonderful man.
Slowly I sucked that throbbing cock, now white hot with passion as I slipped one finger past my sphincter. A second finger was added and when I felt my ass muscles relaxing, I slid in a third. I would need three fingers to accommodate that large, flaring, hooded cock head! After I had relaxed, I sat back and squeezed a substantial amount of K-Y into my palm and anointed that beautiful, Pashtun, love tool.
Imran's eyes snapped open.
"What are you doing?" he gasped.
"Just relax. You will enjoy it, I promise."
I bracketed his legs, pushed them together and moved forward til I was straddling his hips. I reached behind, grasped his pulsing cock and brought its head in contact with my prepared, tightly puckered entrance. Slowly I lowered my body until I felt the pressure of his lubricated, flared cock head straining at my pursed opening. I lowered a bit further forcing my sphincter to accommodate that flared head. Then that throbbing knob POPPED in!
"Ahhhh," I gasped as my hole was violated. There was some pain, so I held still and concentrated on relaxing.
"What are you doing?" Imran asked.
I concentrated with every fiber of my being until the pain subsided. I opened my eyes and gazed into Imran's eyes.
"What are you doing!" he asked again, more insistently.
After several deep breaths I answered him, "I'm fucking your beautiful cock, Imran."
He was incredulous. After a minute I lowered myself some more. It was a bit easier as the knowledge of my actions had caused Imran's cock to soften slightly. Then I sat all the way down on that luscious instrument.
We both gasped.
Then I slowly rose up and just as slowly sat back down.
"Ahhhh!" issued from his lips.
I increased the rhythm--up then down, up then down, up then down . . . .
With each downward plunge came and, "Ahhhh!" from his lips.
Then, after a few minutes, I raised all the way off til his flared cock head popped out of my puckered ass lips, held that position a second, then plunged all the way back down, impaling myself on that wondrous weapon.
"AIEEEE!" he screamed!
I started a rhythmic fucking of that luxurious cock, and punctuating it, from time to time with a popping withdrawal followed by totally encasing his cock in my steamy love tunnel. Imran, I noticed began to meet my downward movement with little upward thrusts. His head began to whip from side to side as he climbed the erotic, luxurious ladder. After about ten minutes I began to tire a bit. I moved off Imran and knelt beside him.
"Get behind me," I directed and he complied.
I lowered my torso and simultaneously lifted my hips, presenting Imran with my glowing buns which hid my quaking hole.
"Fuck me, Imran," I uttered, hoarsely. I felt his hands on my buttocks, but no more.
I looked over my shoulder into a face sorely perplexed.
"I don't know what to do," he confessed and tears filled his eyes.
"Move forward," I directed. He did. I reached between my legs, grasped his still rampant cock and brought the head in contact with my pucker. "Now push in!"
He did and I was again filled with that luscious cock.
"In and out, Imran, in and out! Push in and out." He was a quick learner, but I`m just kidding myself. He performed that primordial dance which had been genetically implanted millennia ago. With slow even movements he thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew.
"Oh, Yes, that feels so good, Imran! I love the feeling of your cock fucking me."
"It feels so good," he murmured.
The genes kicked in again and he began speeding up, thrusting deeper til his pendulous balls were slapping against mine in rhythm with his thrusts.
We both were gasping from the lascivious exertion.
Then Imran gasped, "My water is about to come."
"Don't stop, Imran. Fill me with your cum--with your water."
Again and again he slammed his cock into me . . . . then . . . .
"ARGHHHHH!"
I could feel his cock spasming inside of me as my body reeled upwards.
He collapsed onto my back as I collapsed onto the bed. His head was beside mine panting. His twitching cock was still imbedded deep in my ass, but I perceived a softening of that once adamantine rod. He didn't move and his now regular breathing announced that he had fallen into sated slumber. I too fell asleep.
Some long, refreshing minutes later we both awoke at the same time.
Imran lifted his head, "I fell asleep!"
"I did too!"
He stretched then became aware of a certain condition. "I'm still inside you."
"I know! And I think you're getting hard again!"
"Humph," Imran vocalized as he slowly pulled his thickening cock out of the warm confines of my ass. We both felt the loss.
"I need to pee," he announced, rolled of the bed and quickly raced to the bathroom.
I sat at the edge of the bed and waited for the bath room to be free. I rubbed my hands over my torso and encountered a viscous fluid. I looked down and where I had been kneeling and reclining and there was the remnants of cum--my cum. I was amazed! I had heard about guys cumming as they were being fucked, but thought such a reaction was spurious. Obviously it was not. My orgasm had been quiet, yet complete. Not the thundering release I had experienced when I was being sucked or fucking a guy.
Curious!
Imran exited the bath room still flushed from our coupling. He looked about on the floor for his clothing.
"Stop!" I said.
"What?" came Imran's questioning reply.
"Come over here."
Imran walked over to me and stopped a few feet away.
"What!"
"I just want to see your soft cock. Up until now it has been hard."
He blushed and moved to cover himself with his hands.
"Don't do that! Let me see that beautiful thing."
He dropped his hands and blushed more. His detumescent cock lolled between his thighs and over his hanging ball sac. The clipped pubes only emphasized the opulence of his crotch, his endowment.
"Think we need to shower," I stated the obvious.
"Yeah," came the reply.
I stood up, took his hand and led Imran back to the bath room and into the glass enclosed shower.
"I've never showered with a man before."
"Have you ever showered with a woman before?"
"No," he admitted smiling.
"Well, it seems that you've done a lot of things tonight you've never done before," I said, stating the obvious.
"Yeah," came the smiling reply.
We showered and I carefully washed Imran's back, massaging my lathered hand over the taunt muscles. Soon he relaxed. I cupped and rotated by hands over his firm buttocks, slipping a finger down the slit and running my finger over his tightly puckered bud. He stiffened. I gently turned him around, facing me.
"What do we have here?" I laughed as I saw his hardening cock arching outward and upward. Interestingly enough he didn't move to cover himself. I soaped my hands and ran them over his cock and balls. Again, a finger wandered back behind his pendulant balls and grazed his pucker. Again he stiffened. "Maybe another time," I said to myself, "If there is another time." I soaped his chest, arms and pits as his cock remained erect.
"Rinse off," I said as I began to lather my chest.
"Here," he said as he took the soap from me and began to wash my torso and arms. Like Imran, by cock was arching out and upwards. He lathered his hands and ran them over, under and around by cock and balls, paying particular attention to my cock head and shaft.
"Mmmm!" I groaned.
Imran fondled my cock and balls longer than would have normally have been required to cleanse them. I luxuriated in the feeling. Then he turned me around and began to wash my back. Again, as he washed by buttocks I became aware of the attention he lavished on them.
"Mmmm!" I groaned.
Like me he insinuated a finger down the cleft and into the dark recesses where my puckered bud was hidden. I felt his fingers explore that most sensitive spot.
"Ahhhh!" I gasped as he massaged that luxurious bud. I turned round, cupped his face and kissed his open mouth. We tongue dueled for a long minute, before I dropped down and sucked his rampant cock into my mouth.
"Ahhhh!" he gasped.
I bobbed like a pistoning machine on his cock and slipped my hand between his legs. Almost subconsciously he spread his legs and allowed my finger to massage and stimulate his quaking bud.
"My water is coming,!" he gasped.
I was a bit surprised. Usually after a thundering orgasm, a guy's second release takes a bit longer to achieve. But, not Imran!
I took as much of his cock as I was able. Then I felt it swell in my mouth and spasm, flooding my mouth and throat with his hot cum.
His legs were quaking as I drew off and stood up.
"You are one horny guy!"
"I don't know why. . . !" Imran confessed.
"I know. . . . You've never done this before. . . " I teased him with a smile.
"Yeah . . . guess so."
He reached with his still soapy hand and grasped my cock. Slowly he fondled it and ran his hand up and down the shaft's length.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Your water hasn't come yet!"
"It's not necessary," I stated.
"I want to see your water come!" came the simple reply. His long supple fingers wrapped around my shaft and moved easily from the base and over my quivering cock head, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. All the time his eyes were locked on my cock and his jacking hand. Soon, the pinnacle of release approached.
"I'm going to cum, Imran."
Then, "I'M GOING TO CUUUMMMM!" Then, "ARGHHHHH!" I yelled as jet after jet of my cum arched out spattering on Imran's belly, legs and cock!
He glanced up into my face with a broad smile. "That was awesome!" he stated.
"Yes, it was."
We rinsed off, dried ourselves and walked back into the bedroom.
Imran glanced at his watch, "Allahmah! Look at the time."
It was 11:30 pm.
"I need to go."
"Do you have plans for tomorrow?" I asked.
"Noooo," came his considered reply.
"Then why don't you stay here with me tonight."
He gazed an me intently, weighing all that happened that evening,
"OK, " he nodded quietly resigned.
We went to bed and both of us fell into a deep sated slumber.
The next morning I woke relatively late, at least for me. I sat up and saw that Imran was not there. I quickly padded to the bathroom, relieved myself and walked to the kitchen which was now the source of the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Imran was quietly taking the dishes out of the dishwasher and stacking them on the counter.
"What are you doing," I asked.
"Geeze! You startled me, " he stated turning quickly towards me and added, "Do you always walk around naked?"
"Only in my own apartment. And, do you always wear your boxers?"
"Only in somebody else's apartment!"
"Coffee smells good."
"I just made it."
"Mmmm."
"Pour me a cup and I will go back and put something on."
"Don't get dressed just for me."
"It's precisely for you that I am doing it," I admitted as I exited the kitchen. In my bedroom, I donned a robe and return to the kitchen.
"There! Is this better?"
"Mmmmmn a little over dressed, I'd say," came the reply with a smile.
"Can I ever please you?" I retorted with a smirk.
"You did a fair job last night," came his unexpected reply.
"Only `fair?'"
Imran flushed slightly, "No, actually it was pretty amazing."
"I aim to please," came my retort.
"Well, Prof, you sure pleased me."
We took our steaming mugs and walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. Both of us were deep in thought as we sipped the aromatic Pasaman coffee. Both of us were looking into the far distance.
Finally, I glanced at Imran, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Do you have any regrets over what happened last night?"
He mulled the question over in his mind for a moment or two and answered quietly, "No, not really."
"'Not really.' What does that mean?"
"It means, I have no regrets, but it was totally unexpected and I don't understand my reactions."
"What don't you understand?"
"Well . . . even though I was born in America, went to American schools, lived in a small Midwest town . . . my upbringing was firmly rooted in Pakistani traditions. Primarily . . . nudity is something I never encountered. After gym class in high school, I always stayed back until everyone else had showered and left. I always showered at home. The same in University. I was taught that nudity was permissible, but on a limited basis between husband and wife. And, of course any sexual contact was with a woman, your wife."
"So you think that what happened last night was wrong?"
"I can't say wrong,' but I can't say right' either. What happened last night was . . . and . . . aberration of sorts."
"So that's it? A one time only aberration!"
Imran didn't answer. He uttered a deep sigh and announced, "I've got to be going." With that he got up went to the bed room and returned after a few minutes, fully dressed.
"Thanks, Prof. Thanks for everything," he said, quietly and walked towards the door.
I followed him to the door and reached out to open it. I turned and gave him a light kiss. Quickly Imran embraced me and gave me a deep searching kiss in return, then left.