Chapter Three
Exploring the Unknown
For days after that Saturday night I recounted the events of that night. "Why am I doing this?" I thought. "Why am I fixating on this man?"
A week later, on the following Saturday, I was contemplating what I would cook myself for dinner when the phone rang.
"Hello."
"Prof? It's me . . .Imran."
"Hello, Imran. Nice to hear from you."
"Ah . . . are you going to be home tonight?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Can I come over?"
"Of course you can."
"OK, bye, then," and he abruptly hung up.
"Strange," I mused. "Wonder when he'll be here?"
Ten minutes later, my query was answered when the door bell rang. I opened the door and there stood Imran carrying a large, brown paper bag.
"I'm glad you let me come over," he stated handing me the bag.
"Why wouldn't I let you come over," and added, "What's this?"
"Hope you like Chinese!"
Laughing I said, "Love Chinese, but am lousy with chop sticks."
"Me too," he laughed.
"But, to tell the truth, I like Pakistanis better."
My innuendo was not lost on Imran. He looked at me and smiled.
We sat at the table and quietly ate the delicious choices he had made.
"So why this wonderful food?" I asked.
"Well, you provided me with a great dinner and I felt I had to reciprocate. Besides, I can't even boil eggs!"
"Hah! I'll teach you!"
Smiling, he stated, "You've taught me quite a lot all ready."
"And?"
Imran laid his fork down, folded his hands and looked directly at me. "Prof, I've been thinking all week long about what happened last week."
"Me too."
"And, I must say that what happened, particularly the wondrous feelings I experienced can't be altogether wrong."
"But, not right?"
He merely shrugged his shoulders.
"So you forgive me?
"Forgive you for what? Prof, I could easily have said, `no,' but . . . but, I didn't. I allowed it, and in that, if there is blame, I am equally responsible. If it was wrong, then I must accept my share of the wrong. But, I don't think it was altogether wrong."
"Imran, if I had used' you, it would have been wrong.' God knows, I wanted you. But I would not have forced myself on you. If you had used' me it would have been wrong.' I placed my hand on your thigh last Saturday and things happened. Was that wrong?' I don't think so. Was it right?' I don't know. It happened. Two people came together and gave each other immense pleasure. Is that `wrong?' I think not."
Imran had begun to play with his food as I spoke. I could see that he was considering what I had said.
Then, quietly I asked, "Can you stay?"
Imran looked up at me, "Oh, I want to, but I can't. I have a major paper due next week and need to work on it. I set aside two hours this evening to have dinner with you. That was all I could spare."
"I understand, but, you have an hour-and-a-half left," I answered, hoping.
Imran thought for a moment, then answered, "OK." He got up from the table and quickly walked down the hall towards the bedroom.
I was a bit taken back by his apparently precipitous action, but soon followed him. As I walked into my bedroom, he had finished removing his shirt and singlet and was kicking off his shoes as he undid his pants. I quickly followed suit.
He lowered his pants and then his boxers. His luscious cock was arching outward, expanding is spasmodic jolts. He turned to me, a questioning look in his eyes.
"You're beautiful," I commented as I stepped up to him and enfolded him in my arms.
"Humpf," issued from deep inside him as we kissed.
We fell to the bed, still lip locked and our hands explored each other as if it were the first time. In that short time, our cocks were rock hard and sensitive as hell. Fingers explored their length, fondled the balls and teased the heads.
Imran snaked down til his head was parallel to my crotch, lifted up on his elbows and gazed intently at my cock.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Inspecting. . . . . Didn't have the opportunity last week. This is the first uncut cock I have ever seen up close."
"Hah! If you were truthful, it's your first cock to see . . . up close."
He looked up to me, smiled and said, "True."
I watched him as he `inspected' my cock. He seemed especially taken with my foreskin. . . sliding it up then back down. He lightly held my exposed head with his thumb and forefinger and slid my foreskin over them. He leaned over an lightly sniffed my exposed cock head.
Imran again raised his head and whispered, "I want to suck it."
Knowing how far he had come in a little over a week, I answered, "Imran, you don't have to."
"I want to."
He opened his mouth and my exposed cock head disappeared as he clamped his lips around it. I felt his tongue exploring the surface within his hot, moist mouth.
"Ahhhh!"
He pulled off and intently looked at what had just been in his mouth. Then he went down again and took about a third of my cock's length in his mouth and began to bob up and down as he had seen me do that past Saturday.
"Aieee," I gasped as his teeth raked the sensitive surface of my shaft. He looked up. "Your teeth are sharp, cover them with your lips otherwise the pain is too much."
"Sorry," came the contrite apology.
He again took my cock in his mouth. He was an amazingly quick learner as he began to bob up and down on my cock.
"Ahhhh! Yes. Oh! Imran"
On one downward thrust, he took nearly the whole length, gaged violently and rocketed off.
"Sorry," he apologized as beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
I sat up, clasped his face, gently kissed his lips and said, "Nothing to apologize for. In time you will learn to take all of it," and added, "If you want." Then I kissed the tears that the gag reflex had brought to his eyes.
"Lay on your back, Imran."
He complied. I separated his legs and crawled up between them, grasped his adamantine cock with that glorious cock head, bent over and swallowed its whole length into my mouth.
"Ahhhh!" he gasped.
I pulled off with a pop. "You have the most glorious cock!"
"Mmmm," came his reply.
Then I began to suck his cock in earnest.
He responded with, "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" at every downward thrust of my mouth.
Soon he hoarsely said, "I'm getting close."
I pulled off, sat back and enquired, "Do you want to fuck me?"
"Yes," came the simple answer.
I retrieved the K-Y and prepared myself. All the time I was intently watched by that wonderful man.
"What are you doing," he asked.
"You are pretty big and I need to open my pucker to take you, otherwise it would be too painful." Then I explained, "First I insert one finger, then after a while I slip in two, and for you, I have to add a third."
"Oh!"
Having prepared myself, I bracketed his hips and lowered myself til his bulbous cock head popped in.
"Ahhhh!" we both gasped.
I waited a moment or two and then lowered myself, impaling my body on his upstanding shaft. Then I began a slow, rhythmic lifting and lowering on his fuck pole.
"Ahhhh!" he gasped.
"Feel good?"
"Oh, yes!"
As I fucked his cock, I reached for my throbbing dick, grasped it in my K-Y slathered hand and began to fuck my fist in consort with my raising and falling body. Imran watched. Then, he reached out and removed my hand and replace it with his. As I ass fucked his cock, he fist fucked mine.
It was glorious. What a luxurious feeling! Soon I ascended the pinnacle.
"I'm about to cum, I announced.
"Me too," Imran confessed.
Then, "ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! Arghhhhh," I shouted as I exploded and shot streams of cum over Imran's torso.
My orgasm triggered a spasm of my sphincter muscles, rocketing Imran into the same realm.
"ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! Arghhhhh" came his guttural screams. I felt his cock lurching in me as stream after stream of his cum was deposited deep in me.
We collapsed for a few minutes. I looked at the clock and raised off Imran's sweaty body. His half hard cock popped out of my ass.
"Ahhhh!" he gasped. "That was so nice. That was good."
I understood his meaning.
"We better clean up, shower. You have only fifteen minutes left."
He looked at me curiously at first, then smiled as he realized what my statement boded.
"You shower first," I said.
"Aren't we going to shower together?"
"Nope! I don't trust you in the shower," I laughed.
Imran laughed too and gave me a firm swat on my bare ass as he entered the bathroom.
A few minutes later he walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair.
"Your turn, you shameless, horny man!" and then he laughed.
As I passed him, I lightly fondled his detumescent cock, than slapped his firm ass. I took a quick shower and walked into the bedroom as Imran was tying his shoes.
"You know something?" I asked.
"No. What?"
"Not once this evening did you make any attempt to cover your bare cock and balls with your cupped hands."
"Well, I guess I thought the milk has already been spilled. AND, I see that you have reverted to your old habits too!" nodding at my nudity, "You shameless man. What would Emily Post say?"
"I don't give a damn. Besides I think she's dead!"
"Lucky for you."
At the door we kissed, not deeply or passionately at first. But, as we kissed, Imran reached down and began to fondle my cock. The kiss became probing.
Imran broke the kiss. "Gotta go!" He looked down at my hardening cock, reached out and gave it a squeeze before he opened the door.
"You shameless hussy!" I laughed.
"You horny sex machine!" came his retort as he closed the door.
The next Friday I was walking into the Student Cafe when I saw Imran sitting alone at a corner table. I had not heard a word from him since he left my apartment the past Saturday. I grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee and walked to his table.
"Hi," I said.
He lifted his head and returned the greeting.
His face was drawn and his eyes were glazed and a bit blood shot.
"Paper done?" I asked.
"Yeah, Just turned it in! Worked the whole damned night finishing it up. I'm exhausted."
"Well, frankly, you look like shit!"
He laughed, "Feel like it too."
"When did you eat last?"
"Don't know. Yesterday I think."
"Here, take this," I said pushing my sandwich across the table to him.
He said nothing, not even a "thanks," but tore off the wrapper and wolfed it down. Then, he said, "Thanks."
I finished my coffee, without uttering a word, stood up and said, "Come on. You're coming with me."
He looked up and wanly admitted, "Don't think I'd be any good. I'm exhausted."
"Hey, you crazy Pakistani, right now I'm not interested in your bod. Gonna take you home so you can take a good shower and give you a comfortable bed to crash in."
He was too exhausted to understand me.
"I don't want anything right now. Sex is the farthest from my mind."
I sat back down and commanded his attention. "Imran, you're a mess! I have a guest room with a comfy bed and its own bath. I'll take you there. You can even lock yourself in, if you've a mind to. You can sleep as long as you want and when you're ready I'll fix you something to eat as well."
He looked up at me barely comprehending my invitation.
"Besides," I added, "I don't want sex with a zombie!"
That brought a wan smile.
I didn't even wait for an answer.
"Come on!" I urged and slowly he stood up, grabbed his back pack and followed me out.
When we arrived at my apartment, I led him to the guest room, indicated the bath room and laid out his bath towel while he slowly, leadenly undressed. I turned down the bed covers. I left him, closing the door as he walked into the shower. An hour later, I checked on him. He was covered and sleeping soundly.
I straightened up the living room and went to the kitchen where I prepared some tuna salad for sandwiches. I had sliced turkey and some ham in the fridge. The turkey would be good for him. The ham . . . that would be for me. Pulled out a bag of chips from the pantry and cut some carrot and celery sticks. Then I went to the living room where I turned on the TV, low volume, watched CNN and looked over some papers I had brought home.
I fell asleep, unwittingly, and woke up around five-thirty that afternoon. Again, I checked on Imran. He was still sound asleep and appeared not to have moved an inch.
I went back to the kitchen, fixed a thick ham sandwich with Dijon mustard, grabbed a beer and returned to the sofa. CNN was still on as I returned to the office work I had brought home ate my sandwich and drank my beer.
Later, I changed the channel to HBO and watched one of my favorite movies--"Steel Magnolias." What an incredible cast! At 10:30 pm, I again checked on Imran. He was still sleeping soundly. I too went to my room and fell into a deep slumber.
Saturday morning, I got up at 8:30, showered and shaved before going to the kitchen to make some coffee. Imran was still asleep, but had thrown the covers of the upper half of his body. "Never remember sleeping this long," I thought.
I scrambled a couple of eggs and drank my second cup of coffee and cleaned the kitchen. At about 10:00 am, Imran appeared in the door to the hallway, wearing his boxers, rubbing his eyes and stretching.
"Well, Hi, sleepy head."
"Hmmm, Hi. What time is it?"
"A little after 10:00, Saturday morning!"
"Allahmah! How long have I been sleeping?"
"Mmmm, about twenty hours--give or take a few minutes."
"Geese!"
"You hungry?" I asked with a grin.
"Yeah, but I've impose enough. I'll shower, dress and be on my way."
"Like hell you will! I've got a fresh pot of coffee, tuna and or turkey sandwiches and other goodies I fixed for you."
"I'll take one of each I'm famished," he said with a grin, "But first I gotta shower. Oh, do you have an extra tooth brush? My mouth feels like the bottom of a bird cage!"
I laughed, "There's a new tooth brush and tooth paste on the sink in your bathroom."
"Thanks," he said and disappeared back down the hall.
I busied myself fixing him a platter with a thick tuna salad and equally thick turkey sandwich. I out did myself and arranged as artistically as I could the carrot and celery sticks and a mound of chips. I sat the platter on the coffee table and accompanied it with a glass of orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee.
Soon he entered the living room swathed in a thick terry cloth robe that I had hung in his bathroom.
"Borrowed the robe from the bathroom. Was going to put on my clothes, but they were wrinkled and smelled like hell!"
"Well, the robe becomes you, and that's what it is for," I said, stating the obvious and nodded to his repast on the coffee table.
"Damn! Nothing at all like the slop from the Student Cafe."
"Only the best for you, Sleeping Beauty!"
"Shit!" he stated with a wide grin.
Without invitation, he sat down and began to consume what was before him.
Not once since he came from his bedroom did he allude to my natural nudity in my place. Actually, I hadn't planned on it. It was just the usual way I dressed, or didn't dress in my apartment. I went down the hall and noticed that he had stripped the bed and neatly folded the sheets and blanket, placing them at the foot of the bed. His rumpled clothes were draped over the back of the chair.
I went to my closet and pulled out a batik bathrobe I had purchased in Bali and put it on. "Mmmm. Think this is the first time I've worn the damned thing," I murmured to myself. I returned to the living room just as Imran was finishing his coffee.
"Want another cup?"
"Yeah, it hit the spot." Then he added, "See you've changed your costume!"
"You like it?" I asked.
"Yeah. A bit unusual, not as revealing as the other one" he added with a smirk.
Arching my eyebrow I asked, "You like it better than what I was wearing before?"
"No comment!" and he grinned.
I brought him his second cup and after he had finished it, he stood up, adjusted his robe and said, "Prof, I've really got to go. Get some clean clothes and straighten up my room. It's a mess."
"OK, do you want to come back here later?"
He thought for a minute and answered, "Yeah, I do."
"You can spend the night here, you know."
"OK, as long as I don't have to sleep in the guest room!" he said with a grin.
"Your wish is my command."
"Yeah! I bet!"
He went to the guest room, put on his rumpled clothes and made to leave.
"Want to have supper here?"
"Sure, as long as you don't fuss."
"No fuss. Do you like steak?"
"Sure do."
"Done. Shall we say 7:00?"
"OK," and he left after giving me a solid kiss.
The door bell rang at 7:00. I answered the door wearing a chef's apron, nothing else. Imran came in carrying a back pack.
"Some juice," I asked?
"Sure." I turned to the kitchen allowing him to view the whole brevity of my costume.
"Damn!" he said, and added, "I'll just drop my pack in the bedroom," and walked down the hall.
I got his glass of juice and returned to the living room just as he entered. If my costume was a shocker, his was stunning. He was wearing only a bright red bikini thong! I was nearly stunned into silence.
"Well, . . . now that's an improvement on your boxers," I said.
"Thought you might like them."
"I do, but, they are on wrong?"
"What do you mean?" he asked perplexed and a bit confused.
"You have them on backwards!"
"Like hell I do!" then he looked down at the stuffed front pouch and added, "Well maybe I do!" With that he slipped the thong off, turned it around and stepped back into it, bringing the string to the front and the pouch in the back. "Is that better?"
"Eminently."
It was difficult finishing the preparation for dinner with Imran's costume, but luckily most had been done and I just had to put the steaks in the broiler.
"Can I say something?" as we sat sipping our coffee after eating our dinner.
"Of course."
"You surprise the hell out of me!" Imran just smiled. "I realize, Imran, that you've been raised in an atmosphere of . . . conservative restraint . . . . modesty of expression . . . and dress. But since that first Saturday, you have . . . changed . . . dramatically."
"Prof, let me tell you something. I haven't really changed . . . except . . . maybe for my reaction, my modesty when it comes to nakedness. The first time I saw you naked, I was . . . well . . . shocked, dumbfounded, flabbergasted! Your appearance . . . naked . . . was so alien to me. I doubt that you could comprehend my internal reaction, my astonishment. I was nearly scandalized. If I was startled at your being naked, you might imagine how I felt when I stood before you naked that evening. Yet, I was more surprised . . . at myself . . . when I began to grow comfortable with our nakedness. Never in a thousand years could I ever conceive of myself being comfortable with my nakedness, especially in front of another man . . . another naked man."
I smiled, knowingly, but said nothing.
"The second time, last week, . . . I fought to be comfortable, fought not to cover my nakedness, my shame. And, by the end of that short tryst, I forgot that I was naked . . . like you were. And tonight, I had planned all afternoon what I was going to do . . . wear the thong . . . as a surprise . . .a gift for you. I thought nothing of turning it around . . . No! That's not true! It was a major effort for me to do that."
Again I smiled and let him continue.
"Now here we sit, naked . . . well, nearly naked, having eaten dinner and talking." He broke into a broad smile, "Guess I've been doing most of the talking! But, anyway . . . I'm not ashamed! I'm not embarrassed! I feel comfortable." Then he glanced down and back up to me, again smiling, "And I don't even have a hard on!"
"Well that's depressing!" I said!
Imran chuckled. "I guess the reason for this is that I feel comfortable with you. I trust you."
"Imran, I want you to feel comfortable and I want you to trust me. You must realize I would never force you . . . or anyone, for that matter, to do something they were inalterably opposed to."
"I know. But, Prof, what we did . . . together . . . the sex . . . was totally beyond my understanding, my ken, and . . . frankly, beyond the dictates of my unpracticed religion and family beliefs. Yet, . . . yet I enjoyed it and hoped that it would happen again Saturday last when I come over briefly."
"Can I ask you a quick question?" He nodded his head. "Do you hope it will happen tonight?"
"Yes," he whispered. " I don't know why! I love when you touch me, touch my body, touch my . . . cock. I shiver with delight . . . when we kiss . . . deeply. I love when you . . . rub your hands over my chest. I love when you . . . suck me. I love when I hold your . . . cock in my hand. When I enter . . . your . . . ass, it's indescribably wonderful." He was quiet for a moment. "These things I can not understand. I must be a homosexual, I must be a gay."
He was becoming agitated. "Imran, Can I say a few things. They may help you understand."
He nodded his head.
"First a semantic comment. You are using the term naked' wrong. Naked' implies being without clothes in an inappropriate circumstance. If you didn't have clothes on and walked into the Student Cafe, you would be naked.' Nakedness' implies shame or shameful. If you are without clothes in a situation like we two have been in, then the term is nude.' Nude' implies being without clothes in an appropriate circumstance. If a mixed group of friends should walk through my front door right now, we would be naked.' If all of them had no clothes on, then we all would be nude.'
"Getting used to your nudity, or any other person's nudity in an appropriate situation--like in my apartment or in a gym locker room--just takes time. You have been conditioned for twenty-five odd years. You can't expect to change over night."
I deftly untied my apron and stood up, nude. "A little shocked? A little embarrassed?"
"Yes."
"See!" And I sat back down. "As to your being or not being a homosexual . . . you must realize that there is a whole broad spectrum between being absolutely homosexual and absolutely heterosexual. The gray range, between black and white holds infinite, hundreds of millions of permutations and possibilities. Somewhere in that gray range is the area that is referred to as bisexual. Unfortunately it is the most misunderstood of all forms of sexuality. I am bisexual. I have had sex with women. One I was married to one and with two I had long relationships. Of course we had sex, and, frankly, I loved nearly every moment of our couplings. It just so happens that for the present time, I prefer a same sex relationship. You were engaged, I assume that you held hands, hugged and kissed. You may even have fondled each other or made love. And those physical contacts may have been pleasant and were yearned for. Since you have had a pleasant opposite sex
relationship, and from what you said, a pleasant same sex experience, then you are, by definition neither heterosexual, nor homosexual. You with me and hundreds of millions fall within that fast gray area. We are bisexual."
And, I abhor the term `sexual preference.' We are what we are as far as our sexuality is concerned. If I were totally heterosexual and decided not to have sex with a woman, and certainly not with another man, I would be a celibate heterosexual! THAT would be a personal choice, a preference at the time. Being born heterosexual is not a personal choice, it is genetically predetermined. Similarly, being born homosexual is not a personal choice, it is also genetically predetermined. AND, being born bisexual is genetically predetermined. As far as our sexuality is concerned, we have no choice, no preference, no alternative. A bisexual may choose not to have same sex relations. That does not make him or her a heterosexual. He, or she merely chooses a heterosexual path."
We sat silently for a long time.
"I'm glad I trust you . . . Thanks."
"You're welcome."
With a smirk, "But didn't know you were into sex education!"
"Ah, there's a lot about me that you don't know."
"Yeah, I see that."
"Well now that the lecture is over, how about a little `hands-on' lab experimentation?"
A broad grin crept across his face and his eyes twinkled, "Thought you'd never ask!"
We had a long leisurely love making session that night. Imran's long sleep the night before allowed him several orgasms. At one point, while I was kneeling between his legs, bent over his stiff, rigid cock, swirling my tongue around that flaring, bulging head in my mouth, I ran a finger behind his pendulant ball sac and grazed that sensitive area found there. Imran gasped and involuntarily flexed his knees upward and spread his thighs. I traced my finger down that short path and over his tight puckered bud. He squirmed. I reached for the tube of K-Y already on the bed from its previous use and squeezed a small amount on my finger. Anointing that pucker with the slippery goo, I lightly grazed the tight, pursed opening with my fingernail.
"Ahhhh!" came a vocal response.
Then I presses against that closed portal with the tip of my finger.
Imran quickly lifted his head and gasped, "No, Prof! I don't want to be fucked!"
"I'm not going to fuck you my sweet man. Do you trust me?"
"Yes," came the whispered reply.
"I'm going to do something that will provide you with immense pleasure. Just relax."
He dropped his head back and his breathing returned to normal as I again ministered to his throbbing, lurching cock. Again, I ran my lubed finger back and forth and around his virginal bud. His body torqued in eroticized reaction. Again, I applied pressure with my padded finger tip. He gave no adverse reaction. The third time I applied pressure, the muscled opening gave way and my finger tip entered up to the first knuckle.
Imran gasped.
I held my finger still and after several moments retracted it and started the whole process over again. The second entry was much easier and nearly half my finger entered his tight hole before I stopped. The third time, the complete length of my finger was imbedded into his quaking tunnel.
Again, Imran gasped.
Then slowly, carefully I withdrew my finger partially and reinserted it.
An elemental, guttural groan came from deep in Imran's being, whether from my sucking mouth or inserted finger, I knew not. Then I bobbed my head and inserted my finger in syncopated rhythm as he began to throw his head from side to side and twist his body in a state of elevated eroticism and high excitation.
"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" came his response. I felt his cock harden and the bulbous head swell imperceptibly. He was close! I shoved my finger all the way into his love tunnel and felt that tight swollen gland deep inside. I massaged it as I went all the way down on his cock. He arched his back, rammed his heels into the mattress as he lifted his buttocks way off the bed, driving even deeper into my mouth!
Then came the explosion!
"ALLAHMAH ARGHHHHH!" he shouted! Wave after wave of muscular spasms raced through his body in ever decreasing intensity. His sphincter convulsed around my finger and his hot, opalescent cum shot from his slit and flooded my throat. I fought not to choke from the copious discharge.
Then he fell back, limp and spent. I lifted off of his twitching cock and licked a viscous pearl off its tip. Slowly I withdrew my finger and the sphincter snapped shut.
"Ahhhh!" came Imran's response as his breathing moved from gasps to a more normal, rhythmic intake of air.
I looked into his flushed face and asked, "Are you all right?"
With glazed eyes, he focused on me and muttered, "What have you done to me?" Then he closed his eyes and fell to sleep.
I smiled. One thing I had noticed about Imran is that after a thunderous orgasm his whole being seems to shut down and he almost immediately falls to sleep. Not long, maybe ten minutes. It's as though his body needs that time to recoup and recombine with his mind, to come back down to earth.
After a short while Imran opened his eyes, saw me watching him, smiled, stretched like a great cat and scratched his ball.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi."
"How are you feeling?"
With a twinkle and a wink, "How do you think?"
"I'd say pretty good, after that screaming orgasm."
"Did I SCREAM?" He asked sitting up and focusing intently on me.
"Well, not scream, more like the roar of a male lion protecting his pride! Luckily these apartments are sound proof, although you may have rattled some dishes next door!" I said with a sarcastic grin.
"Geese!" And he fell back onto the pillow, then added, "Well any way it's your fault! I used to be a nice quiet Pashtun boy. Now you've made me into a screaming sex maniac," he laughed
I bent over and lightly kissed him on the forehead and asked quietly, "Hungry?"
"Famished!" then he asked, "What time is it?"
"1:30 . . . in the morning!"
"Geese!"
We had a sandwich, glass of orange juice and went back to bed and slept like babies in each others arms.
I woke up. The sun had risen beyond the horizon and Imran was lightly snoring, spooned behind me. I felt his erect cock nestled into my ass crack. Quietly I got out of bed, went to the bath room, relieved myself and crawled back into my same position. Imran moaned in his sleep and pulled me close to him. His cock head brushed against my puckered ass. It felt good in the after fog of deep, sated sleep. I flexed my hips and pushed against that probe. We hadn't showered the night before after our various couplings and a residue of K-Y still remained at my pucker's entrance. I pushed back again and I was infused in a delicious sensation as his cock head slipped into my love tunnel. That action cause Imran to draw ever closer sending his probe deeper into me. It felt wonderful as I lay there with his hard cock nestled inside me. Then slowly I flexed my hips and enjoyed a soft un-frenetic fuck.
I felt him push in even farther, his body flexed and he whispered, "What are you doing?"
"Mmmm," I moaned, "What are YOU doing?"
He began that primordial dance, slowly and deeply. After a few minutes I felt a warmth suffuse me and I slipped gently over the edge.
"Ahhhh!" I groaned as his mobile cock, messaging my prostate, causing a soft, but delicious release.
Then a similar, "Ahhhh!" issued from Imran's lips as I felt his cock shudder as it vented its pearly load in me.
We both fell back asleep, his cock imbedded in my ass.
There is something indescribably delicious when I had fucked a guy and we fell asleep still coupled, and then waking up still nestled deep in his warm love tunnel. The same feeling infused my being when Imran and I fell asleep with his cock still impaling me. When we awoke and he slowly withdrew his detumescent cock from me, I felt a heart rending loss as well as a feeling that brought back, in the form of a physical relict, all the sensations I had experienced the night before.
Imran and I saw more and more of each other. Frequently we would lunch during the week, phoned each other daily and usually he spent one or two nights on the week end at my apartment.
Interestingly enough in the past when I had met someone and we clicked, connected and maybe there was two or three days between our coming together for sex, I would often get the urge and seek out a `quickie,' maybe a convenient glory hole for release. With Imran I didn't experience that desire. On the weekends, when he was at my place we naturally made passionate love. But, there were times where we would just talk, sometimes long discussions. Exploring each other. Often times this would happen after we had sported in the bed. After our short, refreshing nap we would just lay there and talk. Often times over Imran's reaction to a new variation in our love making. Nothing was taboo as far as our discussions were concerned.
One afternoon Imran asked, "What is `Our Place?'"
I glanced at him curiously. Our Place is a gay bath on the edge of campus. It's a two storey building with the windows boarded up, a dark gray exterior and a single door painted green with the name carefully lettered in gold. Inside it's a typical gay bath--lockers, a large shower area, a steam room, a sauna, a small gym, a TV room showing gay porn, a number of small private rooms and a large, dark orgy room, complete with glory holes I had been there once, but preferred the Obelisk' on the other side of town, a bit more up scale and away from the hustle and bustle of the campus. I was surprised at Imran's interest.
"What do you know about it, Imran?"
"Well I walk by it every day to and from school. Never see much activity there, except maybe in the late afternoon or evenings, and then only guys. Late the other night when I was going home from the library I saw Brad Effington come out of there. I said `Hi,' but he seemed to ignore me."
Brad Effington was a certified hunk and the running back on the university foot ball team. Quite a man-about-campus and a notorious play boy. There was even talk that he might be drafted into one of the professional teams. If he was frequenting Our Place, he would do well to be more circumspect!
"Well, Our Place is a gay bath, kind of a gay club."
"A gay bath?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah, It has showers and steam rooms and saunas and places for guys to relax . . . and have fun,"
"Oh," came his simple reply.
"If you want I could take you to one sometime."
"Mmmm, Ok, . . . maybe, . . . sometime." The subject was dropped.
A couple of weeks later we were resting on the bed after a rather long, passionate Saturday afternoon session. Imran had become quite adept at sucking my cock and he takes delight in edging me. After taking me to the edge several times then sitting back and watching me squirm, I could stand it no longer. I grabbed my cock to force my orgasm. He pulled my hand away and went all the way down on me, bobbing furiously until I finally shot my load in his mouth.
It was wonderful! And, I was a bit surprised `cause he didn't jump out of bed and run to the bath room to spit out my cum and rinse his mouth. He swallowed it. That action was not lost on me and I kissed him deeply, tasting the residue of my pearly fluid in the process.
"You know, I really love sucking your cock and watching your reaction when I do it! I never would have thought a few months ago that I would be sucking a cock, your cock and enjoying it!"
"Mmmm, I love when you suck me and I love sucking you too . . . so much! And, you know what? I love it when you slip your hard cock into my ass. Who would have thought a few months ago that I would be taking your cock in my ass and enjoying it!"
We kissed lightly and just laid there entwined.
I was thinking about how much this man meant to me, how much he delighted me. That shy Pashtun who first undressed in front of me, cupping his cock and balls, embarrassed at his nudity, now goes to the bedroom and strips upon entering my apartment. Mostly, I think he does that, not because I prefer to be nude in my apartment, but because he knows it gives me so much pleasure. I revel in the sight of his tall, lanky, hard muscled body and his opulent, pendulous cock and balls swaying rhythmically as he walks. His dark, flashing eyes, his prominent nose and wondrous smile thrill me.
"You know what?"
"What?" I answered.
"When I first started coming here . . . I couldn't wait to have you suck me or fuck you. All I wanted was to feel my cock in your hot mouth. I loved watching your lips slide up and down my cock shaft! When I mounted you from behind I loved watching my cock disappear into your ass hole, stretching it as I entered. I thought I was becoming addicted to sex."
"There are worse addictions!"
"Yeah, but it was not just the sex, it was having sex with a man, with you. Now . . . now, I am anxious to see you on the weekend, to spend time with you, to talk and eat with you . . . and . . . "
"And, no sex?" I stated jokingly.
Imran punched me in the ribs. "What do you think?" he blurted out as he playfully grabbed my cock.
"OW!" I yelled.
Then he quickly bent down, kissed my cock, "Oh, poor baby, I didn't mean to hurt you!" Then he sat back, "No, actually for the past couple of weeks the sex is secondary, not that I don't enjoy it, not that I don't look forward to it. Guess I'm not so anxious about it any more. And, it's not that I have lost the incredible feeling that making love to you gives me. But, seeing you and being with you has become more important."
I leaned over and kissed him gently.
Then came the shocker, "Prof, . . . am I falling . . . in love?"
Love,' in love,' what does it really mean? How do you know? I have said to two people in my life to that point, other than members of my immediate family, "I love you." To me such a declaration is of paramount importance and entails so much. One of the persons to whom I made such a statement was my former wife, the other was a woman with whom I had a long relationship.
Oh, I have said, "I love fucking you," or "I love how you make me feel when you suck me," or "I love your cock!" That's different! The mark, the object of such a statement is a particular thing or action, not a being.
So when Imran expressed that question, I was nearly dumbfounded. I hadn't objectified our relationship to that point. Did I enjoy being him? Yes. Did I enjoy our discussions? Yes. Was I filled with passion when we held each other close? Yes. Was I concerned about bring him to that ultimate release? Yes. Was I concerned about hi well being? Yes. Were there things about him or habits of his that irked me? A few. Were there times that just having him near was fulfilling? Yes.
What does all this mean? I guess I'm not prepared at this juncture to state a conclusion.
A week or so later, on a Saturday--it's funny how important Saturday has become in our life--I asked him, "Do you want to go the Obelisk tonight?"
"What's the `Obelisk?'"
"It's a gay bath, like Our Place, only nicer."
He thought a few seconds, "OK."
"I think it will be a learning experience for you," I said with a smirk.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, you will encounter only men. Some will be nude. Some will be having sex . . . "
"In front of . . in public?" he asked a bit shocked.
"Well, not exactly `in public,' but in a an environment where the others won't be scandalized."
"Do I have to be nude?"
"Not if you don't want to."
"I . . . I don't mind being nude in front of you any more. But, in front of other people . . . "
"You don't have to be nude," I repeated.
"OK."
Later we went to the Obelisk. I rented a `double room' which had a double bed rather than a single. We could strip there, in private and wrap ourselves in the towels provided. As we walked to the room a number of towel wrapped guys passed us and a nude guy. He sported a raging erection.
Imran gasped.
In the room Imran whispered, "Did you see that guy!?
Of course I knew who he was referring to, but asked, "What guy?"
"The naked guy with a hard on!"
I corrected him, "You mean the nude guy with a hard on?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I warned you!"
"Yeah, but he had a hard on!"
"Guess he wanted to get your attention."
"Well, he sure got it!" Imran laughed.
We exited our room. "Let's go and shower," I said.
"Do we have to?"
"It's normal procedure."
Luckily for Imran, the shower room was empty. He took a shower at the back wall, he faced the tiled wall, quickly showered, dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist.
"Let's go to the steam room."
"OK," he said as we stepped into the semi dark, steam filled room. There were three levels of benches around three sides of the room. We sat on the lower level and began to luxuriate in the effect the steam had upon our bodies. There were five or six other guys seated on various levels. Most had their towels draped over their crotch and thighs, a couple were nude, on full display. Imran glanced around at first and when he saw the two nude guys, he dropped his head and looked at the floor. Moments after we entered the door opened, a tall, muscular guy walked in, looked around and sat on the lower bench opposite Imran and me. He whipped the towel from around his waist, folded it, laid it on the bench and sat on it. As he sat, he spread his legs, displaying what can only be described as a massive cock and balls. I heard a sharp intake of breath as Imran glanced across the narrow space.
The hunk stared fixedly at Imran and began to fondle his cock. Imran squirmed. I assumed it was in embarrassment rather than excitation. Soon the cock had grown to its full, substantial length. I noticed that Imran glanced repeatedly at the display. One of the guys from the top bench moved down and sat next to the erect hunk, tentatively massaged the muscular thighs and slid his hand up to the upstanding, ruddy cock. The hunk never flinched, but Imran sure did. Then is one smooth motion, the guy bent over and took nearly the whole length of that turgid cock into his mouth. Imran gasped.
"I've had enough of this heat, wanna leave?" I whispered to Imran.
He didn't answer, but quickly stood and moved towards the door and hurriedly exited.
"Did you see that!" he whispered to me hoarsely outside the steam room.
"Yeah," and added, "He sure had a big one."
"Not that!" he gasped, "Are you blind? The guy was sucking him!"
"Those things happen here, Imran."
As I looked at him Imran was flushed, and I suspected not completely from the hot steam.
"Let's go to the lounge, I'm thirsty." and I led the way. The lounge was average size with six or seven small tables with two chairs each. I got two cokes, signed for them and sat down with Imran. Maybe four or five other guys were there. Luckily for Imran, they all had towels wrapped around them.
"Are you all right?" I asked quietly.
He nodded his head and said, "Yeah, but GEESE . . . .!"
I snickered, "I warned you!"
"These guys aren't the least bit . . . modest," he observed.
"Are you modest at my place," I asked, arching my eyebrow.
"That's different," he spat out.
"Is it?"
We finished our coke and proceeded to the TV room. There were three, deep carpeted steps on three walls, like the steam room, but covered in lush carpet. On the open wall was a large screen television, at least a thirty-six-incher. It was showing the credits for the next feature. We sat on the top level and looked around. It was not full, but a fair number of guys were in attendance. One or two got Imran's immediate attention due to their nudity. Then the opening scene flashed on the screen--an incredibly graphic orgy was in session. There were zoom shots, up close and personal, there were distant shots where it was difficult to know what to focus on. Imran was transfixed. It was a typical gay movie, little or no plot, but lots of hard cock and cock-filled asses and sucking mouths. Since that first night Imran and I had watched two or three other porn videos at my place. So he wasn't too shocked, and I did notice that his towel was tenting as his
pants did the first time at my place.
I rested my hand on his thigh and squeezed it slightly. Imran turned to me, smiled and turned back the athletic action on the screen.
After a while I leaned to him and whispered in his ear, "You either let me suck your gorgeous, hard cock hear, or we go back to the room. I'm drooling for you."
He shot me a wide eyed, almost frightened look, cupped his erection and slid off the step. Quickly, we returned to the room where I immediately fell to my knees, lifted his towel and began to suck his turgid cock. Shortly, at least shortly for Imran, he shot a massive load into my mouth.
"Ahhhh!" Then he fell on the bed.
A few minutes later, he asked, "Would you really have sucked me in there . . . in front of all those guys?"
"You'll never know," I answered with a grin.
"Geeze!"
Later we went to the darkened orgy room. It seemed to be the most popular room, next to the TV room. Most of the guys had removed their towels from around their waist and draped them about their necks. In addition, most of the guy's cock were hard and outstanding.
I whispered to Imran, "Do you want to take your towel off?"
"No!" came the quick reply.
Just then a guy walked up to Imran and groped his crotch. He quickly stepped back and forcibly pushed the offending hand away. The guy just shrugged and sought a more willing object.
A few more minutes passed along with a few more gropes. Imran suddenly stated, "I don't like this room. I'm going to the TV room."
"OK," I said, "I'll be there in a minute," and he hurriedly left.
The hunk from the steam room came over to me and asked, "Where's your cute friend going?"
"To the TV room. This is his first time at a bath and I guess he was suffering sensory overload."
"Mmmm," he said.
I reached out and grabbed his hard cock and squeezed it.
"Nice equipment," I commented.
He reached down and groped me through the towel.
"Mmmm, you've got a beauty there too!" he said turning slightly.
"Thanks," I answered and cupped one of his firm, muscular buns.
"Mmmm," he moaned slightly
I slid my finger down his crack and he turned more to facilitate my probing finger. As I reached his tight pucker, I was aware that it was already lubed, so I slid my finger deep into his hole.
"Ahhhh!" he groaned.
I whispered in his ear, "I'd like to slide more than my finger into your tight hole!"
"Do it!" he said as he bent forward at the waist and pulled his muscular ass cheeks apart with his hands. The light was such that I had feel my way to that puckered opening. It wasn't difficult. I had years of practice. Once my throbbing cock head touched that bud, the hunk grunted and pushed against my rigid cock. It slipped in rather easily.
"He's been at it a while this evening," I thought as I pushed all the way in.
"Humph!" he groaned, "Now fuck that ass."
And, I did.
Just as I was unloading my cum deep in his gut, I looked up and saw Imran staring at me, his mouth agape and his eyes wide in disbelief. I pulled out and walked up to him. "I need to shower," I stated. He just looked blankly at me.
Upon showering, I returned to the room. Imran was waiting at the locked door.
"I want to leave," he declared quietly.
We entered our room and he put on his boxers, modestly under his towel and quickly put on the rest of his clothes. I dresses just as quickly, went to the desk, and paid my charges. We walked to the car, neither uttering a word.
We drove home in silence. It was evident that he was upset. Upon entering the apartment, Imran went down the hall to the bedroom. A moment later, he returned, not nude as he normally would have done these past months, but fully dressed and carrying his back pack;
He announced, "I'm going home."
"Imran, what you saw meant nothing, absolutely nothing!"
He shot me a withering glance and left.