Warning:
This story contains Adult Material and is a fictional story of consensual sex between a white young man and some Moroccans. It is a male gay story.
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Some lines of previous adventures.
Jimmy Lafonte was let to go free after passing some two weeks in a jail in Casablanca. Now he had to fend for himself.
(For some antecedents you can see...
"Memories from jail" http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/interracial/memories-from-jail )
I was walking aimless on the streets of Casablanca and recalling the conversation I had with Manuel, a companion I had when I was in the jail.
He was teaching me about the ominous prospects of my future in Morocco. His words were so depressing that I remained quiet for a while. I was getting a little nervous. This guy, Manuel, was a spring of knowledge and I was so ignorant... that I was tiring him with a lot of questions and petitions.
"I would like to know some words of Arabic. Do you know some Arabic?"
"Well, I can teach you a few phrases and some useful words."
"Thanks a lot, Manuel."
"Then, remember that we are alone in this world. If your life improves, and it surely will, for you are a beauty, then I hope you would not forget me. If you find me, I will probably be in need. Then, you have to remember that we are colleagues and this world of whoring, and we ought to help each other, right?"
"Right. I'll be obliged to help you. The one who would be lucky in life would help the other."
Jimmy on the Fishing Wharf
I was wandering from here to there alone in Casablanca. I did not know where to go, the city was to my eyes very great; greater than my poor feet could endure after passing more than three weeks held in different jails of Morocco.
The trouble now was how to eat something. For they had let me free a hour before they give prisoners a piece of hard bread to eat. I was walking aimless, my feet were very tired. But I recalled the advice of Manuel that told me,
"Never pass a long time resting on a bench in the park. For the police would detect you doing nothing, and would take you as a suspicious vagrant. You should always be walking, walking; tireless walking. Like you were a busy young man going some place to do work."
I would have loved to rest for a while on the bench at a park, but I do not dared to do it for more than a few minutes. I was always fearing to be spotted by the Moroccan police. I did not want to look a vagrant or a bum.
I was wandering and my old boots were rather broken and they were hurting my legs. I was also ashamed of wearing these boots, for they made me look as a bum.
Suddenly I saw a shop with a name written in Spanish, "Zapatería de Roman Sabatier" (Shoe-shop of Roman Sabater). Then I presented myself to the owner of the shop asking if they could help me with a job.
"Hi, I just came from Spain, and I am looking for a job."
"Why did you come here, to this forsaken country?"
"Forsaken country?"
"A shitty country to look for a job. This country is drowning in shit, now that the French troupes have left. "
"I hated the Franco's regime."
"We are so sorry, boy. But with the independence, the French soldiers are gone, and the economy was thrown to the dogs. There is not any money left."
"Then, you cannot give me a job?"
"No. I can't."
"Then, can you give me a piece of bread or something to eat?"
"I am sorry" he said. "We have not even a piece of bread to give out."
"Then, can you give me a glass of water?"
"I can give you a glass of water from the tap. We used to drink bottled water before, but not anymore. Tap water will not kill you."
He gave me a glass of water. I drank it with thirst and thanked him. Then a little sad, I left.
I went back to my eternal quest of the Holy Grail; I mean, I needed a way to earn a living. I tried to figure out how the knights of King Arthur were able to roam the land in the quest of the Holy Grail. How those knights fed themselves? Problems with the thirst they had not, for the British islands were rainy lands, full of springs, creeks, rivers and pools.
As I walked I tried to get a little sun on my face, to improve my look. To look healthier for I recalled the conversation I had with Manuel about my prospects of finding a job in Morocco. His discouraging words left me frozen,
"You have only a faint probability in the whoring trade."
"Why just a faint probability? You said I was cute. I am blond and you told me that here they love to fuck blond boys."
"Yeah. You are blond. But at present... you look unhealthy."
"I look unhealthy?"
"Well, you look mostly hungry... hungry and dirty. Your face has also a yellow shade. You need to eat a little more, eat some fruits and get a little sunshine to look healthy."
"I need a little sunshine?"
"Yeah. It will give you a reddish tone to your face. That would make you look healthier."·
I was taking notes in my mind.
Then Manuel added,
"To have a good chance... you need also to dress better. A little like wearing clothes of a European or American "nasharani". Also, you are in need of a washing. Your skin is a little dirty for being several weeks lying on the floors of dirty jails."
"Can you wash me?"
"Of course," he said.
Then he took the can and got some tap water and began to pour it over me and to rub my skin with his hands. It was a pleasant feeling, especially as he was washing my buttocks and my thighs. He put a lot of interest in rubbing my ass hole and my crotch. He played for a while with my dickie making it stiff. He was pouring water over my body and rubbing it. At the end he was washing my face with his hands, repeating,
"What a pity I have not a piece of soap."
He was giving me some advice about my future life as a slut.
I recalled he told me, "you need a pimp that would take care of you and rent you." So, I wanted to inquire further into this possibility.
"How I could find a pimp to take care of me?"
"What? Uh... a pimp... let me see. You cannot find a pimp."
"Why? You told me I needed one."
"There is a small probability that he will find you."
"How could this happen?"
"Er... there is a remote possibility."
"Why remote?"
"It's like a lottery."
"Like a lottery?"
"Yeah. It would be easier if you get seen walking in the red district."
"What is the red district?"
"The district of the whores. You have to be watched walking on the streets there."
"On the whore's streets?"
"Yeah. Or sipping coffee on the lounge of a good hotel."
"In the lounge of a hotel?"
"Well, in fact this option is not for you. For you need to wear expensive clothes and some fine perfume. You have to be well groomed and that."
"Well groomed?"
"Yeah, you need to look like a pretty lord boy, like a white blond prince of older times."
"I have to look like a pretty lord boy?"
"Yeah. You should walk with a slight aristocratic air... walk like you were a little prince... one of those sweeties that has never been ass fucked."
"All that much... what for?"
"That would give older males a strong desire to wreck your sweet aristocratic ass."
"Oh, my!"
"This is the most refined art of whoring... to look like a sweet innocent angel, so lascivious that rich men have the wish to pay dearly to pound your virgin ass."
"To pound my virgin ass?"
"Yeah. You have to look... angelical and innocent."
"They love it that way?"
"Of course. The more innocent you look the more attractive you are."
I was walking and walking along the streets of Casablanca while remembering some bits of my conversation with Manuel. I was recalling and repeating some phrases of Arabic he taught me. If you do not work on these words, you will soon forget all them.
Then, I had to stop for I felt tired of walking. I had passed several weeks in jails, lying all day on the floor, not doing any exercise, and my legs were weak. I sat on a bench park to rest for a while.
I remembered the words of Manuel, "you cannot stay very long in the same spot or the police will take notice of you. The police will figure you are a vagrant." I began watching my back. Then, I saw a French newspaper in a waste can at the park, and took it to feign I was reading. A police officer passed nearby and looked at me. Then, I knew I should continue walking on the streets like a tireless walker.
After I passed some hours walking, I was hungry and tired. I was not even sure where I was going.
It was then about mid afternoon, when I saw the gates to the wharves. I recalled the words of Manuel, "in case you have not eaten anything, you can try to beg a little fish in a ship trawler. This is the season of sardines. They can give you something." He taught me as well how to beg in Arabic, to please the Moroccan sailors. "You will have to let any of them fuck you, if they ask you," he said.
"But... how I would enter into the wharf premises?" I asked him.
"As you are blond, you can join a group of European sailors and walk close behind them. The guards do not check the passport of foreign sailors."
That was what I did. I joined a group of Dutch sailors and passed the gate of the harbor.
Once inside, I began to walk about looking for the fishing wharves. As I walked, I was preparing myself to look as innocent a creature as possible. I was wetting my lips for a while for they were a little dry. I was pressing them against each other to make them look a little swelled, reddish and fresh. I was not sure this would work very well, so I rubbed my lips with my fingers to make them look piker.
Then, I received a strong smell of fish in the air and went in that direction. I saw some ships that looked and smelled like fishing trawlers. The first one I saw had a young lad leaning on a railing. I liked the face of the lad. I would have been a little scared if he were an adult. I went upstairs on to the ship. I went towards the boy ready to beg for some food. So, I told him something like, I am Spanish and hungry. Can you give me some sardines? I spoke my phrase in Arabic, as Manuel taught me.
"Ana spani nasharani. Ateni qualilum sardina?"
Then, I put my lips with an angelical look to impress him. I was a little unsure of the quality of my language. But to my ears those words sounded as good Arabic.
He was surprised to hear me talking and called someone inside the ship.
In two seconds five young Moroccans boys came out to see me. One was like twenty two or twenty three years old, and had a sweet smile. The rest were boys like seventeen or eighteen years old. They watched me with a leering smile. It seemed to me their glances were... full of lust. They were amazed and leering at me. One boy reached my head to feel my blond hair in his fingers. He tousled off my hair with a tender smile. I smiled faintly back to them trying not to decompose the volume of my angelical tempting lips.
They were talking fast among themselves, but I could pick up on a few words.
Among the noise of words I heard something I learned from Manuel. It was like "nahnu quadira nahwik... *$fgh%... zamel nasharani". I was not sure, but it seemed they were saying something like "we can fuck... $fxxgeh%... the Christian faggot."
The boys were waiting for the older one to decide. Then, he smiled at me and watched me for some seconds.
I continued with my best angelical face. My lips were a little like relaxed, swelled and a little open, like an innocent angel begging for an act of debauchery on his pure white face. He was a cute young Moroccan with waving black hair and thick lips. He was a manly beauty in my eyes. That meant, the young man had some blood from African ancestors, immigrants that came from some part farther south in Africa.
He said something to me. It was a sort of miracle that I understood something of what he was saying,
"Anta ahaba ana nahwik ..x%#r"ts... teez?
Perhaps I understood what I wanted to hear. For the words he said were like ana nahwik' that is I want to fuck you'. And what was the word teez?' So I imagined that he could be saying, "do you want me to fuck your ass?" I vaguely remembered the word teez' meant `ass'.
"Ayal" I said. That means `yeah'.
So, I was ready to do anything he would ask me.
Then, he said something like "come with me", and I went after him.
He went to the bow of the ship and I followed. He opened a door of a store room full of ropes and cans of paint. The room had a strong smell of paint. He showed me the place and invited me to come in. I did and he came after me.
The Moroccan boy shut the door from inside, and told something to me.
I feigned I had understood. We were watching each other for a moment. He was really a cute guy and he was smiling sweetly to me. I was also smiling back to him. Then he asked my name, "Ismak ai?"
Then I told him in Arabic,
"Ana Jimmy."
"Me, Ali" he replied.
Then, after watching well my face and my eyes, he went for my lips and started to kiss me in the French way. I was happy the cute young man was kissing me. After a while kissing, he began to caress my ass. He was kneading my rear cheeks with strong hands. Then he told me something Arabic like "strip" for he pointed to my trousers and said something like, "ta'arra", that probably meant that.
I started to pull down my pants; Ali was interested in watching what I had under them. When he saw the dismal sized of my dick, he felt proud of himself. He pulled down his pants and underwear and he showed me proudly his cock already erect. It was an impressive dick of dark color and large size. Not that it could be compared with the black man that fucked my ass in the jail, but it was a good size, like seven or eight inches. I was amazed with the head of his dick, for it was rather wide for its size and girth. It had the form of a war helmet.
He was shaking his dick at me, to make a little show of his maleness. Then he said something that I understood, like it meant,
"Take it in your hand. Feel it."
I took it in my hand with some reverence. I was quite impressed and showed him my admiration with wide open eyes to make him feel good. I was caressing the wonderful tool like a worshiping rite. Then I knelt before his dick and began to watch it carefully. It had like a marked wavering profile like it was made by a lot of thick rings glued together forming a solid thick rod. As my fingers were jerking up and down his member, I felt in my hand the wavering over those rings. I loved that feeling for whatever reason. His big balls caught my attention, for they were full of nutritious cream. I was so hungry that I was eager to drink all his thick cream at that very moment. After jerking him for a while I was ready to suck his wonderful dick. But Ali pointed to a pile of ropes and said something like,
"Bend over there."
I did it and presented my ass to him. He passed his finger on my ass and felt it was dry. So he said something in Arabic. I understood he probably meant "wet well your cunt with saliva".
So, I began to wet my ass to make it easier to enter, for the head of his dick was rather thick.
Then Ali started to push his thickness into my ass. My sphincter was presenting some resistance. I was helping my ass to resist, for it was not a realistic scene the ass of an angel would be that easy to enter. The charm of an angel must surely be the tightness of his virginal ass. An ass that is too loose does not seem innocent at all, and not angelical, but rather whorish.
After a fierce resistance, Ali penetrated suddenly. I uttered my best angelical cry of pain. I had to transmit him the idea that he had a monster dick and he was wrecking my angelical pussy into a bloody pulp.
Ali said something that contained the words "zamel nasharani"; that is Christian slut. He was not flattered with my cries of distress.
I was enjoying the fat dick of Ali in my ass. At least I felt again full and completed. The maleness I lacked was already filling me. I could not believe how good I felt with Ali's manhood embedded in my ass. Then, as he was coming and going I felt a sort of accomplishment.
Then, he pushed farther in. His dick met an inner resistance till his dick passed a barrier my ass had midway. It was like it passed into my bowels or so. I felt like a great pressure in my ass. Like his dick had swelled farther or grew more. Well, I had it all inside, and it was pressing some spot in my body so much that my dickie became stiff. It was a weird feeling.
Something inside me was like to bursting, as he began to come and go I felt like a vibration deeper in my ass. The inner barrier of my ass was like wavering or vibrating, as the thick head passed in and out the tight inner door. The wavering was caused mostly by the thick rings of his dick as it passed through the inner tight gate.
Ali said something that I did not understand. Perhaps he was telling me how proud he felt, for he was going to make a baby in my slutty bowels.
Any way, I was feeling great. It was the same feeling when the black fucked my ass in a jail full of people.
I was delighting his ears uttering cries of pleasure.
"Oh, my!! Agh!!! Ay!!! Your dick is so big, man!"
He mumbled something in Arabic.
I was like cheering him.
"This is the best! I never had one so big!"
"Oh, my! Make it raw!"
He was delighted with my cries of pleasure and began to utter also his own moaning of pleasure. I could not understand his words, but faggot and nasharani, were repeated from time to time. He even called me "zamel fransuia", that means faggot French. He must have had some disappointment with a French boy that he could not fuck in the past. Now he felt accomplished.
I was glad that he was so enthusiastic, for I wanted to give him the feeling of fucking ass. I suppose this was the first time he had fucking a slutty European.
Ali was going more deeply into the pleasure of fucking my "nasharani" cunt. Perhaps he never had the chance of fucking a sweet girlish nasharani and now he was doing his best to enjoy it.
Ali was getting more excited and his breath was beginning to go deeper and agitated. He told me some words in Arabic that I took for,
"I'm going to nut! Jerk your dick to make your cunt get some spasms."
It was clear he was going to cum and I jerked my stiff dickie faster.
It was easy to cum off for the pressure in my ass was incredible. As my dickie started to spurt watery jets of cum, Ali felt the spasms of my ass milking his fat black dick. His dick began to spurt thick shots of scalding cream in my bowel, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. I felt the contractions of his dick in my ass. It was like exploding after a long contained pleasure.
Ali said something in Arabic that I took for, "I am breeding you, nasharani. You're gonna have my baby."
He suddenly fell exhausted over my back.
I felt proud and happy having him resting on my back. As he was lying over me, his dick was still having jerks and spurting minor globs of jizz for as long as a minute. I was amazed at how much cream he had stored in his balls.
I felt it was a pity he had finished, for I was eager and hungry for more jizz and more dick.
After a while Ali stood up and made a sign to me like saying, "stay put there". He went toward the door and opened it slowly just a bit. He peered outside and then opened the door completely. There were his friends of the ship awaiting. He made a sign to them and they entered. He turned back to me and made a sign that meant,
"You know. These boys are also horny."
The boys were looking at me with leering eyes. I was naked over a pile of ropes. My white ass was obviously like a beacon to their lustful eyes. The most forward one came to me, and told me something like,
"Turn on, slut. I am going to breed you."
I turned on and he dived over my ass with his dick ready to enter.
I put my ass in the right position to make it easy. My ass was full with the slippery jizz of Ali, and his dick entered easily. I could not pretend this time to be an angelical virgin. My ass was overflowing with the jizz that Ali had deposited.
The young boy had a small dick but was in heaven, for it was perhaps the first time he was fucking a cunt. In this case, it was not any cunt whatever, but a nasharani cunt. One does not find such a cunt that often in life.
The young boy was like crazy fucking on my slippery ass. He was amazed at the pleasure and was uttering words in his language. I heard some words like zamel and nasharani, and teez. Those words mean slut Christian and ass.
I accompanied him in my moaning of pleasure, to make him feel his dick was a great tool of pleasure for any cunt. He could not cum off quickly, for his dick was moving slippery in my ass, so I tried to press my sphincter muscles to make him cum off sooner. Then, in a minute or two he came off. He rested a moment on my back, then took out his dick and stood up.
The next boy took his place in my rear. He was very young and his dick was of normal size. His dick was a little bigger than mine. He entered me also in a flash.
My ass was doing some hissing sound as he was moving fast in and out. He was calling me a slutty nasharani, and he soon came off. He didn't spend much time to moaning and that sort of music. He stood up letting his place to another boy.
The fourth boy saw my ass overflowing with cream and felt some sort of disgust. He told me something. By the gestures of his face, I guessed he was telling me, "turn over, and suck my dick, slut."
I turn over and started to such his dick. It was quite sweet and I loved it in my mouth. It was so easy to swallow entirely. I loved it. I had never sucked a dick before. The heat of my mouth made him crazy with pleasure. He was enthusiastic fucking my mouth, crying aloud how sweet my mouth felt. His hands were on the back of my head and he was pressing to make me suck his dick entirely. I was happy being of some value for him. I loved his moaning of pleasure.
I tried to increase his pleasure by holding his balls in my hand, while he fucked me.
The boy started to come off in my mouth. His cream was sweet and salty. I imagined then his jizz had the quality of a young guy, almost virginal or angelic. He was not totally a full developed man.
All these comments are a guessing I do, after many years of experience. For in those days I could not have ever commented this way for I was rather ignorant, that is innocent.
Then, it was the fifth boy's turn. He had a black thick dick, not as large as Ali, but it looked like a real dick of a grown man... even if he was still no more than eighteen.
I was looking at him and with words and signs, he told me to turn over.
I became ready to be ass fucked. He grabbed an old cloth and he wiped my ass that was exuding a lot of cream. He dried my ass with the old cloth and started to fuck me. It was easy to enter, for it was still full of jizz.
He was fucking me for a while. He had a great dick, but Ali had stretched my ass a lot, and I could not enjoy the plenitude of his member. Nevertheless, it was a good fuck, but it could not be compared to Ali.
After they all had fucked me, they were ready to come out of the store room. Ali was outside and told them to come out. Later Ali, told me to come out.
I asked Ali for a shower, "mumkinum ana mirassatum?"
He said, "ayal", that means yes, and showed me the way to the shower room. He caressed my ass in the shower room and he told me something like, "here's the soap."
I had a good shower and lathered well my body hair and everything. I pushed hard to expel as much cream as possible, for it was not a good thing to go walking all day leaking jizz. It would have made my body a source of stink.
Then, I got out of the shower room and went up to the bridge of the ship.
There was Ali. A boy by his side was holding a parcel of brown paper. The boy opened the wrap and showed me like half a pound of sardines.
I thanked Ali, `shuckran' and made also a sign of thanks to the other boys with a slight bow.
They looked back at me with some sympathy. For at least I was carrying in my bowels a good load of their Moroccan babies.
I came down to the wharf with my parcel of fish. I only needed some matches to make a fire. I asked a few persons for matches. One gave me a box with some matches, and then I gathered some pieces of firewood from broken wooden boxes. On the floor I found some small pieces of newspapers. A little later, I found a place with two stones that were used to make a fire. It had something like a grill. I made a fire and started to roast the sardines.
When I finished eating I was on the verge to explode. I had never eaten so much in my life. My belly was full. In a while I would need urgently some water to drink.
When I got out of the gate of the wharves, the guards did not pay any attention to me.
I was wandering by the streets of Casablanca and knew I had to find a place to drink water.
I asked both in French and Arabic where to drink some water, and someone told me "go to the mosque" and his arm signed in the direction where it was.
I was walking till I began to hear the muezzin calling for prayers of the evening. The mosque could not be very far.
At last I arrived at the patio of the mosque. And there were a lot of jets of water and many people were washing their faces, arms and feet under the jets of water. I approached to the jets and began to drink water. I had a lot of it. Then, I started to wash my face and my hands and arms like the rest of people. I watched a man that was looking at me with leering eyes.
I got caught in his glance, like a rabbit caught in the lights of a car in the middle of the night. It was the last call for the prayers, and it was getting dark. But he was watching me with lustful eyes. I was instantly like melting. I was really in need to be loved. If someone loved me, and let me a place to sleep, I will be a happy boy again; like when I was a kid and had a home like everybody.
The man was watching at my eyes and I smiled back at him.
You want to know what happened next? Let me know if you are interested.
I will be glad to engage in comments about this story. You can tell me about what you think about Jimmy. I already know a lot of his adventures, but you can know more than me.
In case you like my weird English, I can recommend you some other stories, like
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/surprise-of-my-life/ http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/my-black-cousin http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/interracial/memories-from-jail and others,
You can see my stories in the list of authors of Nifty