Time: 18:30 Saturday, July 4, 1998 LEVANTINE LUST by natan10@hotmail.com The stories which I write are not always true stories. Actually, they rarely are. They are entirely fictional. However the character Muhammad in this story is based on a true character whom I had met and had a good time with. It is only the character himself which is true. The entire rest of this story is fiction. My stories grew out of a desire to put down in words many "fantasy dreams" which I have had. I am bisexual, married and white with two grown children. I love sex with a man and, in my real world, it is no stranger to me. My stories are intended for mature eyes only and are always based on male/male relationships. There is no violence, S&M, bondage, etc. in my works. If you liked the story, let me know. If you didn't like the story, I would also appreciate a note and an explanation why ... otherwise, I won't get anywhere, will I? Feel very free to write me anything you'd like. I look forward to hearing from anyone interested in responding to these stories. All I am trying to achieve in my writing is to make you feel good. Really good. If you want to write me just to "get off", then do so. After all, this is why we exist and who we are. In my stories `condoms' do not exist. In our real world, condoms MUST exist. In our own personal fantasies, however, sex is idealized the way we would really like it to be -- raw skin and no rubber. But remember: Safe sex must be the only way! ************** LEVANTINE LUST by natan10@hotmail.com The scent of turmeric filled the air as I slowly made my way through the alleyways of the Greek Quarter in the Old City. I had entered through New Gate and I was on my way to the Moslem Quarter in order to find Muhammad's homestead. The address he had given me was vague to say the least. As well as I knew the twists and turns of all these alleyways, my head still swirled in confusion.
But I guess I had better backtrack for you a little.
I met Muhammad on one of those fine, glorious days that hits us in the Spring. I was sitting in the Emile Botta Garden behind the King David Hotel. I was looking for some young skin. They usually flaunt themselves in front of you, but this particular day the park seemed rather empty. So I was just as happy to sit on the grass as we all do and stare out at the Herodian walls of the Old City, King David's tower piercing the magnificent blue sky. The aroma of hyacinth and honeysuckle filled the air. I became drunk in its aroma. I opened my shirt a bit, laid back on the warm verdant grass and closed my tired, blue-green eyes for a bit.
I had lost track of the time in my semi-dazed state. It could have been an hour, or it could have been three. But I eventually opened my eyes and, shaking my head to wake up, I noticed that someone sat down not too far from me. He was looking over my way. I looked at him. Or rather I devoured him with my glance. He was short in height and extremely handsome. Dark curls fell loosely over his olive-skinned brow and almond-shaped eyes the size of black olives pierced the air toward me. He didn't look older than 17. Usually I am a bit wary of the young Arab boys who linger in this park. All they usually want is a quick blow job for a mere $8. They almost never want to touch you, let alone take you into their own mouths. They love holes for their tools -- it doesn't matter if it's male or female, a mouth or an asshole. I was not that incredibly horny that I was prepared to shell out the moolah for a moment's pleasure. I continued to look at him and then lay back again, staring at the sky.
I noticed that he was getting up and then he sauntered closer toward me. He just sat next to me, fondling his crotch a bit through his pants. He kept eyeing my own bulge. But the mystique of this persona had its intended effect on me. I began to bulge. He continued to look lasciviously at me. Rather than move away, I just turned the other way. But he was intent on his prey. He did something next which I have not seen in this particular park. He unzipped his zipper a bit and began to play with himself. My cock began to twitch in response. And then ... he pulled it out. I was dumbstruck. His cock was tremendous in size. I licked my lips. For a youngster of that proportions, I would not have expected a tool so thick and long. I made a quick calculation of what I had in my pocket. Damn! Only five bucks. He asked me in his broken tongue if I wanted to suck him. I nodded yes but made signs that I didn't have enough money. "How much?" he asked. I broke the ice. He agreed.
I stood up first and went down to the bottom of the slope and descended the stairs to the lower section of the park, closer to outlying homes. I went behind one of the bushes and waited. Sure enough, this young kid followed in behind me and unzipped his zipper further and released his now-engorged cock from its restraints. It was magnificent ... and clean. I wasted no time. I knelt down in front of him and tried to get him to pull his pants down. He agreed to only opening his button and opening the flaps of his pants a little, thereby taunting me with his sex. I was at least able to slip my hands in behind and push his buttocks from behind, getting that whole thing to slip between my waiting, parting lips. The taste was devine. I bobbed for only a few moments. I did not want to hurry on this one. I let my right hand slip up under his shirt and tweaked one of his nipples. He threw his head back and bucked. I took him again in my mouth, all the time rubbing his abdomen.
I decided to try something different. I stood up and took my own pants down. He looked at my quite thick 7-inch cock and just pointed down at his own. I took his hand and led it toward my shaft. He took it but that was all he did. He massaged it for a few seconds and then pulled his hand away. A little cockteaser. He nonchalantly put his hand behind my head and forced me down once again on his monument. He didn't have to force. I was only too happy to oblige. All I could think of was to try to get us to lie down and force my cock a little toward his face. But he would have nothing of it. Damn! The very rare times when that has happened have been magnificent. Turning a young kid on to the delights of a cock. But I see that this young lad would do nothing. It increased my excitement. I took him now entirely in my mouth and bobbed until I couldn't bob anymore. He shot the most magnificent load of cum down my throat.
We quickly dressed and I escorted him out of the bushes. As we were walking back up toward the fountain, I asked him if he enjoyed himself. All he could say was "Tomorrow?" I realized he was asking if I would be here the next day. I told him that I would most definitely try but that I was not prepared to pay him again. He actually agreed. Thank goodness for that. I took his hand in mine and shook it. He told me his name was Muhammad and that he would be here around 2 in the afternoon. I brought my hand up to my nose and I could smell lamb. He must be a shepherd. The smells of the alleyways of the Old City filled my nostrils -- sumac, turmeric and goat's cheese -- all woven into one fine specimen of a young lad.
The next day, I returned to the park. Muhammad was waiting for me. I must emphasize once again that I get very frustrated when my little flings are only one-sided. Don't we all enjoy 69? Well Muhammad frustrated me so much during our first meeting. While I was sucking him and enjoying his huge cock, I had hoped that he would play with me a bit. I knew that he wouldn't want to suck me, but I thought he would enjoy holding a nice stiff rod while enjoying the exciting feeling of his cock being sucked by a pro. But he would have none of it. So we reenaced our scenario from the day before.
These encounters continued for about 2 weeks off and on. I dreamt about him. I dreamt about his cock. I was able to sit at my desk working and I could taste the sweet taste of his delicious cum on my tongue, even though I had just had another cup of tea with hawaij. I was infatuated with my little Muhammad. The day before yesterday, I enjoyed his company once again. But this time, there was something different about him. He had a more confident air about him. It intrigued me. What was exceptional was that while I was deep-throating him, he kept leaning over, putting his hand down my shirt and rubbing my nipples. And then he actually leaned further down and rubbed my cock a bit while I sucked him. Do I have to say that it excited me so much that I shot my own huge load. And what perfect timing. As my own manjuice watered the plants around me, his delicious jism filled my belly. That day was quite different. He wrote something on a piece of paper and told me it was his address and to come to him tomorrow at his home. I was struck with curiosity. But I had one thing in mind. His cock. So I agreed to meet him.
As I was walking through the twisting alleways of the spice market, I noticed a group of 3 hashish smokers -- their hawk eyes following me as I entered the next alley at the corner. Quickly dismissing them, I entered Abu Dis Street, the street where my Muhammad apparently lives. I found number 13 and knocked on the door. I heard a soft patter of footsteps and the large, ancient wooden door which reaked of stale urine slowly opened.
"Ahalan, Natan. Mar-haba." "Ahalan Muhammad, Kif allek?"
"Mabsoot" [Pleasantries, meaning: "Greetings Natan, Good day." "Hello Muhammad, How are you?" "Great."
"Welcome to my house, Natan. Please to step inside and come up the staircase." "Thank you, Muhammad. Is this your home?" "Yes. I live here with my mother and father and 8 brothers and sisters. There is no one at home right now. They have gone to Jordan for 4 days and have left me on my own. This is why I have asked you to come to me. Did you have any trouble finding my home?" "No, Muhammad. I had no trouble at all. I know the alleyways of the Muslim Quarter a little and I found you in no time. You are very close to Damascus Gate, so it was easy." My eyes followed his rear as he mounted and climbed the staircase. There was a distinct odor of lamb and hashish mixed in an intoxicating way which is indescribable. We got to the top of the stairs and my eyes, after getting used to the darkness of his home, were filled with exciting things to see. The wall at the top of the stairs was completely covered in magnificent embroideries. "Would you like some Na'ana tea [mint]" "Yes, Muhammad thank you. That would be great. My throat is parched from all the smells in the alley." "Quoiyes," he responded, which meant `excellent'. He disappeared behind a tapestry, leaving me to absorb the aromas and sights of his living room. The window looked out over the rooftops of the city and on the far right, I could see the silver-domed Al-Aqsa mosque. The muezzin began his plaintive cry to the righteous worshippers, calling them for prayers. I sat and waited for Muhammad to return, luxuriating in visions of his smooth, naked body with that tremendously thick cock which I so love to suck. I was taken completely aback when Muhammad appeared in front of me, with a lovely bronze tray and two tiny demitasse glasses of strong mint tea. That didn't surprise me ... what did was that he was stark naked with his tremendous erection. The rest of the events were a total surprise to me and till this day, I don't understand why he did the things that he did. He slowly put the tray down on the floor next to us. He thrust his hands in my armpits, signalling me to stand up which I did. He then knelt in front of me and slowly unzipped my jeans. My cock was slowly filling up with blood with this surprise. He then put his hands on my briefs and gently rubbed me while looking straight up and into my eyes. He looked so handsome with that lithe, muscular body of his. He put his mouth to my briefs and began to lick the material where my cockhead lay. He then pulled my jeans right off and then my underwear allowing my now-hard shaft to snap right out at his face. He lay down in front of me and then began to run his hands all over his chest and abdomen and crotch, looking at me with the sexiest look that I have ever seen. He was licking his lips while looking at my crotch. He used his index finger motioning me to come closer to him. I lay down next to him. He rolled over and began to massage my face. And, to my total and utter surprise, he did something which is so incredibly unlike the Muslim culture. He leaned over and kissed me on my lips, thrusting his moist tongue down my throat. It took it between my lips and sucked on his tongue and returned his thrusting motions with my own hot tongue. We kissed passionately. I did not understand what was happening to me. All the times we had sex in the park, I was only able to suck him. He wouldn't touch me. He would not take his pants down. He didn't even allow me to unbuckle his belt. And here he was, this magnificent creature, kissing the life out of my, sucking me tongue with his hands all over my body. I leaned over and took his full 8 inches down my throat, sucking with every emotion that filled my body. He gently pulled me off of him and stood up. He turned around and lowered himself on top of my body, his mouth licking around my crotch only, and allowing me access to his own throbbing cock. It glistened with precum which I happily licked up. My own precum was flowing and yet he did nothing to my cock. He still did not touch me. When I returned my motions of sucking him off, licking up and down his shaft and over his head, up and down, up and down, he began to moan and writhe with unspeakable pleasures. It was then that he covered my cock with his own mouth. I told him to make swallowing motions which he did, allowing me to go deeper into the hungry depths of his mouth, his chin nestling in my crotch. He let out a few exclamations in Arabic and began pumping his head up and down my shaft, sending glorious electric-like shocks throughout every crevice, nook and cranny in my body. I felt my balls tightening and he knew it. He kept sucking on me while I kept eating his own fine meal. The smells in the room of turkish coffee, hawaij and cardamon seed, all mixed with his own manly smells and my mind began to float above us, seeing the hilltops with its cyprus trees, hearing the muezzin ... and I moaned ... and then began to scream with pleasure. "Ya'alah!" And I shot the biggest load I can recall that I ever shot. Wads and wads of thick, creamy jism flowed down his throat at the same moment that I felt his own seed down the back of my throat. We both slurped and swallowed and slurped and swallowed. When we had come down from our climax, he just lay there, his arms around my buttocks, my cock buried deep in his mouth, and his in mine. He did not move. His right hand left the comfort of my buttock and with it, he searched out my own hand and grasped it, squeezing it and he began to kiss my cock over and over again. He then became hard again and cried to me: "Habibi, od," which, simply put translates as "My dear friend, I want more." I had no trouble whatsoever obliging him in his newfound pleasure. Finally, I had my Muhammad and he had me. Right where we both wanted to be.
************* I really hope you liked what you have read. If you would like to read more, please write to me and tell me. I shall be happy to oblige. natan10@hotmail.com
And don't be afraid to put your own fantasies and feelings down on paper. It just happens to be wonderful therapy! If you like, you can write your fantasy and send it off to me. I'd love to read it.