My Travels To Asia

Masqat, Oman (Hope)

-- Saturday --

I had arrived in Masqat the evening before and was met at the airport by Shariff, a friend of mine from graduate school. We had become good friends at that time and continue to correspond. He had continued over the years to invite me to visit and I always said that I would some day. Now I am here.

His home is large and rambling--an obvious reflection of his family's wealth--two storied, white structure built around a shaded court. Shariff, the eldest son, shares this home with his father, mother as well as an unmarried--divorced, I think--sister, along with his wife and three children. The children were at a boarding school in the U.A.E. Shariff's mother and wife were educated in the U.K. and were decidedly modern by Omani standards. He was deferential towards his father who was still considered to be the head-of-the-family, although had little to do with the family business. He was respectful, as well of his mother, the mistress-of-the-house. Yet his mother and wife did little in the house as I counted five servants, including a gardener-chauffeur, ranging in age from approximately nineteen to mid fifties.

My room was huge, looking out onto the inner court, cool, with a massive bed, sitting area and the marble floors were littered with gorgeous carpets. The bath was an enclave onto itself--marble and nearly as large as my Lahore hotel room. I felt . . . NO! I WAS pampered, and I loved it, for a change.

At 8:00 a.m. there was a quiet knock on my door. I had been up, showered and dressed and was sitting looking out onto the court. I opened the door and the youngest servant, wearing a long, white caftan entered with a tray of steaming coffee, a fruit plate, dates and some savory cakes. He smiled, set the tray on the coffee table and left. I sipped the thick, flavorful coffee, ate two of the small cakes and picked at the luscious dates.

8:30, another knock. It was Shariff.

"Was your breakfast satisfactory? I remembered you always ate so little for breakfast,"

"Yes, Shariff, It was perfect. The coffee was delicious."

"I would like to show you around Masqat today."

"I'd like that."

I followed Shariff downstairs, out the front door and into a white Mercedes. Shariff said something to the chauffeur and we sped off. Masqat is not unique in this part of the world in that nearly all the dwellings are white--glaringly so. The color helps to reflect the heat of the sun. I wondered what it would be like to live in any of the many smaller houses we passed without air-conditioning. We toured around town for two hours before stopping for lunch. The restaurant was somewhat up-scale, beautifully decorated and cool. We were met at the door by the beaming proprietor. He greeted Shariff and turned to me, "Hello, Craig."

I was taken back, somewhat. The man was close to my age, medium height and appeared to be in prime physical condition. He was bearded, had a mustache--there was something about his eyes that seemed familiar.

"Craig, do you remember Omar?"

Recognition flooded my mind. Many wealthy Arabs when they send their sons to the States or the U.K. send with them a 'companion.' Actually a fuck-boy--a young boy from a poor family who supplies or satisfies the wealthy young men's sexual needs and keeps them away from 'evil women' in exchange for a free education. I remember learning about this when I was at Shariff's apartment one night in school for dinner. I was watching Omar cooking the food and engaging him is casual conversation. Shariff came up to me and asked, "Do you like his ass? Nice isn't it?" I merely shrugged my shoulders. Then he added, "You can have him if you want!"

It was afterward that Shariff explained to me the efficacy, from the Omani point of view, of a fuck boy. To say the least I was astounded.

I had inquired at the time if the fuck-boys were gay. He laughed at my innocence and said, "No! When Omar goes back, he will be married. He's already engaged." He merely served a need for Shariff. That was all!

I smiled at this man who had briefly and infrequently peopled my past.

"Why, yes, Omar! Forgive me for not recognizing you at first." We shook hands warmly. It was obvious Omar was well paid for his services. The restaurant must provide him with a good income.

As we passed the cash counter I noticed a number of pictures hung on the wall. Omar caught my glance was proudly hurried to explain, "My family. I have three sons and a daughter. My eldest son has just passed his lower form exams first in his class."

"Congratulations, Omar. You must be very proud."

He merely beamed as he showed us to our table.

"Nice place," I commented to Shariff.

"Yes. He has worked hard and is doing well."

No more was said of Omar or of his earlier role. It was obvious that Shariff was a regular patron. I wondered if it was out of gratitude?

We ordered lunch and Shariff reading my mind commented with a grin, "Sorry, Craig, no alcohol is served here, or in Oman!"

I merely shot him an exaggerated, disappointed look. We laughed. In America, Shariff had one of the best stocked bars for a student. Wonder if he misses it much?

That afternoon we toured the harbor area. The fish market held all varieties of fish--some of which I had never encountered before. Shariff spied some particularly large prawn and purchased two kilos. We walked back to the car, he handed the packet to the chauffeur and we drove back to his home.

I was hot went to my room, showered, changed my clothes and went back downstairs. There Shariff was waiting for me in a large, high ceiling, luxuriously appointed living room. The young man who had served my breakfast was waiting, deferentially, to the side. Shariff said something to him and he left quietly. Moments later he returned with a tray that held a bottle of Johnny Walker, a bucket of ice and two glasses.

I glanced at Shariff who as grinning from ear to ear. "You have to know where to go for a drink!" he said ironically and nodded his head at the young man who proceeded to pour out two generous portions of scotch.

I had noticed the young man earlier that morning. He wore the traditional white caftan which fell to his ankles. His eyes were hypnotic, dark, hooded with luxurious lashed and topped with black, arching eyebrows. His hair was somewhat curly and, likewise, black--a stark contrast to his light skin. His nose was strong and straight and his lips were generous. This six foot young man was handsome. He reminded me of one of those porcelain models seen an Italian Renaissance portrait, especially of Bronzino or Caravaggio.

"That will be all, Ali," he said. The young man nodded his head and left.

"He speaks English?" I inquired.

"Yes, a little."

Not knowing why I said it, I admitted, "He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Hypnotic." He had!

Shariff smiled, handed me a scotch, saying, "Cheers!"

I sipped the amber liquid. It was what the doctor ordered. He talked about the day, about Masqat and about our mutual past.

After the second drink, Ali entered the room and announced, "Dinner is ready, Sir." He glanced at me and flashed a brilliant smile. I was entranced.

The dinner was marvelous. Braised lamb, steamed prawns with a marvelous garlic sauce, fragrant rice, various sweetmeats and pungent side dishes made up the dinner. Shariff's mother, father and wife joined us. This, I knew, was a mark of trust and respect. In this part of the world when guests are present, especially male guests, the women may be present but never join in the meal. So, I felt honored.

Later, we adjourned to the living room where trays of numerous sweets were displayed on a large, round, brass coffee table, along with cups of aromatic coffee. We chatted and sipped the coffee. Shariff's mother and wife excused themselves around 9:30, while he, his father and I continued to chat.

At 10:00, I excused myself and went to my room. I showered again, donned a pair of loose sleeping shorts and perused the paper that Shariff had graciously supplied me. I sat glancing out my window onto the inner court. The evening air was cool, the sky was clear and I felt comfortable.

There was a light knock on my door. I went to answer it. Ali stood in the hall, nodded his greeting and quickly entered my room. I was a bit surprised and curious.

"Yes? Ali."

"The master has sent me to you." he answered with the same brilliant smile he flashed earlier.

Then he quickly lifted the caftan over his head, dropped the loose underpants and stood before me completely nude. He appeared slightly apprehensive. As I had stated, Ali was about six feet tall, slender without being thin, displaying the muscles of his youth. His skin was light colored, flawless and the only hair was on his legs and head. It was obvious, like Yusof, Ali's pubes and under arms was shaved smooth. His hands hung at his side and he stood stark still but with grace. His cock was limp, but gave a preview of its full scope. His balls were rather pendulous for a young man, but opulent.

"The master sent you?" I was incredulous.

"Yes, Sir. He said I was to come to you for this night."

"He ordered you, Ali?"

"Yes, Sir."

I had seen the look in Omar's eyes when he was offered to me those many years ago. I would never forget it! I think that the way I had been received by him today--his open magnanimity--was, in part, due to my refusal then. That look was not in Ali's eyes. However, it was not of his free will that he was here. When it comes to sex, there are two things that I am adamant about. First, I will not force anyone to do anything that they are not willing to do. To me it is tantamount to rape! Second, I absolutely refuse to pay for sex--again if it is not freely offered it is worthless!

"Ali, thank you very much, but, No," I said calmly.

His smile faded, "You not like me?"

I smiled, "Ali, you are a very handsome young man, and anyone you gave yourself to would be a very lucky person."

"But . . . I give you me."

Again I smiled, "But Shariff sent you to me!"

Seriously he retorted, "He asked me if I would like . . . and I said, 'Yes, I would like.'"

"Has he asked you before?"

"Yes, a few times."

"And, have you always gone?"

"Sometimes I say no. . . ."

"And?"

"He not get mad."

"If he had not asked you tonight to come to my room, would you have come?"

"Yes, if you asked me."

I looked at this gorgeous young man. Sure, I wanted him! But, . . . . ! His eyes were riveted on mine--questioning, searching. "Ah, hell!" I said to my self.

"Ali, I would like you to be with me tonight. Would you like that?"

His brilliant smile returned, "Yes, Sir!"

"Really?"

"Yes. I want to be with you, Sir."

I stepped up to him, enfolded him in my arms and kissed his lips, gently. Ali's arms encircled my chest, and he hugged me. But, there was a slight hesitation.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, and continued, "You don't want to do this!"

"Yes, I do . . . but . . . no one kissed me before."

"You don't like to kiss?"

"It was nice . . . but . . . I . . . not kissed before."

I kissed him again, gently. This time he responded by drawing me closer. I gently licked his lip. He parted them and I could feel the tentative probing of his tongue. I responded. My tongue played with his and he moaned and pushed his hips against mine. I could feel that his cock was swelling. Mine responded in like fashion.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes were misty, his lips moist. "Before . . ." he stammered, "they only . . . wanted to . . . fuck . . . They not kiss."

"They were foolish!" I stated, "Look what a kiss does to you," nodding down at his lengthening cock.

Ali grinned, "I does same to you, Sir." He reached over and lightly touched my tented sleeping shorts and then glanced up into my eyes.

"Yes, your kiss does that to me."

"I like to kiss you, Sir."

"Ali," I said gently, "Please, don't call me Sir. My name is Craig. . . call me Craig."

I hooked my thumbs under the waist band and shoved the sleeping shorts down. Stepping out of them, my cock sprang free and proud. I again embraced Ali. Our naked bodies melded together and we kissed deeply and passionately. Again he moaned and his body also responded by pressing even closer.

We parted, breathless. "I like kissing you . . . Craig."

"And, I like kissing you, Ali."

I led him to the bed where I laid down and held my arms out for him. Ali crawled into my embrace and this time he kissed me. It was sweet. It was hot. It was passionate. Now, I moaned.

Ali lifted his lips, he was smiling an he looked into my eyes, "You want to fuck Ali?"

The abruptness of his question took me a little off guard. "Yes, but . . . later," I said.

"Why?"

"Because, Ali, I want to . . . play with you . . . a little . . . first."

"Play?"

I suddenly dawned upon me that this young man had never really made love before. He had allowed himself to be used by those who appealed to him without any thought of mutual enjoyment or satisfaction.

"Where I come from . . . when two people make love . . . they play a little . . . first. It gives both more . . . pleasure."

"Oh! Is kissing play?"

"Yes, but not just on the lips . . . "

"No?"

I rolled onto my side and laid Ali on his back. Then I reached over and kissed him on the neck and tongued that most sensitive area just below the ear.

"Ahhhhh," Ali gasped.

I moved down to his chest and licked his dark nipple until it was erect and sucked it gently into my mouth.

"Ahhhhh," again, Ali gasped.

His arms lay limply at his sides--not really in passive compliance. He was concentrating his brain on retaining these new sensations. His eyes were wide and misted with pleasure. I lifted one arm up over his head and gently licked his smoothly shaven arm pit.

This time, "Arghhh," escaped from his mouth and his body spasmed.

Slowly I descended his torso, leaving kisses and tongue marks as I went. I detoured around his rigid, quacking cock, spread his legs and kissed that incredibly smooth area of the inner thigh!

"Ahh, Ahhhh, Ahhhhhh," escaped from his mouth at every new area that my tongue and lips explored, every new pleasure discovered, every new sensation. His body was writhing. I lifted his leg and licked the back of his knee--that hairless area so often neglected. Then I sucked it hard.

"ARGHHH," and involuntarily Ali spun onto his stomach. He was panting.

"Do you like this playing?"

"I . . . have never . . . played . . . before . . . . Craig"

"Do you like it?"

"I like!"

Bending over, I ran my tongue from the deep, hot cleft of his ass, all the way up his back to his neck. I bit the nape of his neck lightly.

Ali spun under me onto his back, breathless, his eyes clouded with passion and he kissed me! I have been kissed many times before, but this kiss . . . was spectacular . . . cosmic! Suddenly I began to quiver as he ran his hands down my back. Mouth to mouth, torso to torso, cock to cock we were united and the erotic charge flowed from one, back to the other and back again. After being locked in this embrace for an eternity of heavenly delight, I rolled off. We were both panting like long distance runners.

After some moments, I felt the hesitant touch of Ali's fingers on my arm. I turned to gaze into his eyes.

"Craig?"

"Yes?"

"You are nice man . . . I like you."

That simple but genuine declaration melted me. I wanted this young mane to experience everything pleasant that I could offer him now. I sat up, bent over, grasped his throbbing cock and took the whole thing in one gulp!

"Ahhhhhh," burst from Ali's mouth. Again, "Ahhhhhh." And, again, "Ahhhhhh." As I moved up and down his rock hard shaft--licking and sucking as I went.

Suddenly, Ali sat up, grasped my head and lifted it off his cock. "Why you do this?" There was a look of incredulity, verging on shock in his face.

"I give you me," I repeated the same words Ali had uttered a few minutes before. Then I asked, "You have never been sucked before?"

Ali merely shook his head. Then he admitted, "Some of the others . . . wanted me suck them."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Ali lowered his eyes and did not answer.

I know that other cultures are vastly different from ours. I know, too, that in many Mideast countries same-sex contact is not at all unusual. Generally, however, the aggressive member merely fucks the other--there is no question of reciprocity. The aggressors never consider their acts as 'gay.' And, of course, I learned from Shariff and Omar about fuck-boys. However, as I have mentioned, 'using' another human being, male or female, in this manner is odious to me. I suspected, and was later to find out, that Ali came from a desperately poor background. Although Shariff gave him a job, and I suppose paid him better than average, the expectation that he would perform sexually for Shariff's guests was beyond my ken. I am not an inveterate do-gooder, but Ali's plight touched me. I was determined that this would be one experience that he would remember--remember in a most positive light.

I gently pushed Ali back down and continued to suck his beautiful cock. I took the whole length into my mouth and my tongue snaked out and licked his balls. I took and licked the head into my mouth, popped it out an then gobbled it back down my throat. Ali's groans were punctuated with a thrusting of his hips and he torqued his torso in sensual delight. I quickened my pace up and down as my saliva oozed out and lubricated his unyielding, throbbing cock.

Again, "Ahhhhhh," and, "Ahhhhhh," escaped his lips as I sucked.

Again, Ali sat up and lifted my mouth off his cock. Breathlessly he stated, "I want suck you!"

I smiled and gently said, "You don't have to Ali."

"I want suck you!" he repeated more urgently and pushed me into a sitting position.

He grasped my hard dick, lowered his head and sniffed. Then he took my cock-head into his mouth. The feeling of my bulbous head encased in his hot lips and moist mouth was fantastic. He then, without preamble, went completely down on my cock and gagged!

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Let me show you how to do it," I suggested. I showed him how to open his mouth a bit when taking all my cock into his mouth to bypass the gag mechanism. He tentatively tried again and managed the task.

Then I maneuvered Ali on his side and rotated 'til we were in the soixante-neuf position. Again, I swallowed his cock and continued the piston sucking of his hard, beautifully smooth tool. Soon, Ali was sucking like a pro. We both were groaning at the pleasure we were receiving and giving. Ali's top leg was cocked and I could see his incredibly smooth ass and tight, pursed, perfectly formed hole. I ran my fingernail over it lightly.

"Mmmmm," sounded deep his throat.

I reached to the bedside stand where I had a bottle of lotion, squeezed a dollop on my finger and smeared it over and around his hole.

"Mmmmm," again issued from his stuffed mouth. My touch seemed to increase Ali's speed as he moved up and down on my pulsating dick.

Carefully I slid my finger into his ass without missing a beat with my suctioning mouth.

With my cock halfway down his throat when Ali opened his mouth and uttered, "Arghhh!" And, then speeded up his sucking.

Slowly, at first, I finger-fucked his ass, His moans became more insistent. I matched the rhythm of his mouth with mine and finally with my fucking-finger. The sensations were wonderful. Soon I could feel Ali's cock swell imperceptibly in my mouth and his ass muscle squeeze a bit. His moans turned to groans and I knew that he was at the plateau. I increased my speed and depth. . .

Suddenly my cock popped out of his mouth. Ali stiffened and, "Ahh, Ahhhh, Ahhhhhh, ARGHHH!"

He plunged deep into my throat. My mouth was flooded with his pearly, salty cum and his ass spasmed about my finger. Ali literally exploded in and around me! His spasming ceased, although he still was panting. Then he rolled onto his back, loosing his cock from my mouth and my finger from his ass. I sat up and saw that his eyes were glazed and staring fixedly at nothing! I smiled and ran my fingers through his tousled hair.

He returned from the land of the petite mort, turned his head and focused on my face. Again he repeated the phrase he uttered earlier, "You are nice man . . . I like you." Then he added, "I like you . . . very much."

"I like you very much, Ali." I smiled, bent over him and placed a gently kiss on his lips.

"I have not cum like this," he declared simply.

"Cum? You exploded," I said with a grin.

He smiled, and glanced at my still hard cock. Without a word he rolled onto my lap and started to suck me. I pushed him off. I knew from experience, what we all know, and that is--after an explosive orgasm, the last thing you are interested in is sex. Yet, Ali, I suspected from gratitude, was attempting the difficult!

I lifted him off my cock, "No, Ali, Not now . . . later maybe. Let's sleep a while."

I laid him unresisting onto the pillow and lay next to him and put my arm around him. Soon his breath was that of someone in luscious and satisfying sleep. Moments later I joined this beautiful young man in the realm of dreams.

Later, I was experiencing the most delicious erotic dream that I can remember. The sensations were elemental. I began to rise from the dream world towards wakefulness. I fought to stay in that lascivious state. Then I experienced the most delicious sensation of something cool being slathered on my cock. I opened my eyes. Ali was straddling my hips and anointing my cock with the lotion from my night stand. Feeling me stir he looked up and into my eyes. A beautiful smile suffused his face and he rose up a bit, crawled forward, grasped my cock and began to lower his ass onto it.

"What are you doing?" I asked dreamily, not fully comprehending his actions.

"I want fuck you," he whispered. Then I could feel my cock-head pop past that puckered opening. He hesitated a few seconds and then lowered himself down--all the way.

"Ahhhh," I gasped at the incredible feeling of my cock being encased in that hot love-tunnel.

"Mmmmm," issued from Ali. He sat there a few seconds longer getting accustomed to this invasion. Then he began to raise and lower his hips on my cock! It was wondrous. It was delicious. It was stupendous. He looked into my eyes and smiled--not saying a word.

"Oh, Ali, you make me feel so good!"

His smile broadened.

"God, my cock feels so good in your ass . . . . Oh, sweet Ali!"

He shut his eyes and increased his rhythm. I watched his half limp cock bob up and down to his pistoning hips. I took the lotion, poured a dollop into my hand, grasped his cock and began jack it in to the same cadence as his hips.

His eyes snapped open and looked at his imprisoned cock and then into my eyes. Still he did not speak, but his smile transmitted volumes. I sat up, Ali still pistoning, and kissed him hard and deep.

"Mmmmmmm," he moaned and began to rotate his hips. The sensation was so great I gasped and fell back. I quickened my hands movement on his already solid dick.

He must have been fondling me long before I awoke, because I could feel that undeniable and luxurious tension build in my crotch. I was racing towards that edge of primordial release. Tightening my grip on his cock I quickened my pace. Ali, too, increased his pistoning of my cock. I was at the point of no return when Ali arched his back and shot his viscous lustral fluid all over my chest and stomach.

"Ahhhhhh, ARGHHH!" he groaned again.

And as he unloaded his cum, his ass spasmed around my cock. THAT WAS IT!

"Oh, God . . . GOD . . . ARGHHH!" I arched my hips and sunk my cock deep into his ass and blasted away--filling him with my hot cum! I have had glorious orgasms before. But, this one ranks as the best. My cock convulsed again and again and again as I unloaded.

"Ahhhhhh, " Ali groaned again and he shot more cum over my stomach.

For moments we held our position, quaking and spasming as that cosmic release subsided--leaving us two quivering, spent men.

Then Ali fell forward on to my chest and kissed me.

"That was wonderful," I whispered in his ear. I enfolded him in my arms.

He didn't asnwer.

"You are a fantastic man," I whispered again.

But Ali didn't hear me--he had fallen asleep. I held him, reveling in his smoothness, his warmth, his passion, his simple straightforwardness. Ali slipped into a deep sleep. My softening cock still grasped within his tight ass. Quietly, I moved to allow it to slip out. When it did slip out, Ali moaned, as if regretting the loss, and snuggled even closer to me. His breathing was deep and even when I gently rolled him off of me and onto his back he did not stir. He looked like an angel!

Quickly I got up, padded to the bathroom, soaked a wash cloth in some warm water and back to the bed where I gently washed his cum-smeared chest and stomach. Again to the bathroom and return to carefully bathe that gorgeous cock. Ali did not move, but his cock lengthened a bit under the warm terry cloth washing. I bent down and kissed that luscious tool. Finally, again to the bathroom and return to carefully spread his legs and wash his lotion-lubed ass. Still Ali slept! Then I took a quick, cleansing shower and crawled into bed next to that wondrous young man. I laid my arm over his chest. Ali moaned, turned towards me, threw a leg over mine and an arm around my waist and snuggled his head against my chest. I was as near to heaven as a mortal could be. I fell asleep happy and content.

-- Sunday --

7:30 I awoke and stretched out. I turned, but Ali was not there. Slowly I roused myself to full wakefulness and got up. I had slept soundly and felt wonderful. I showered and mused about the previous night.

At 8:00 I heard a light knock. I opened the door and Ali stood there, smiling with a tray.

"Your breakfast, Sir, " he said as he walked in and set it on the coffee table. Then he added, "Did you sleep well, Sir?" as he walked towards the door.

"Sir?" I queried with an arched eyebrow, "What happened to Craig?"

He smiled, furtively glanced down at my crotch and then back into my eyes. That was all.

As he left my room I surreptitiously patted his sweet butt. He turned flashed me that wondrous smile, winked and said, "Thank you, Sir . . . (and mouthed 'Craig')." He closed the door behind him.

By breakfast was ostensible the same as the day before, only the plate of fruit plate differed in content. When I picked up my napkin, I saw that a small red rose which rested beneath it. The message was obvious. I smiled as I smelled the blossom. I placed it at the back of my calendar/address book and ate heartily.

As the day before, Shariff knocked at precisely 8:30. I opened the door. He stood there wearing an immaculately white caftan and on his head he had donned a typical Arabic-style scarf.

"Good morning, Shariff."

"Good morning, Craig. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," I answered. I thought I detected a glint in his eye, but I wasn't sure. I wondered if he had quizzed Ali this morning about last night? Knowing him, however, he may not have. He too was a private man and not given to gossip or pruriency. Besides, he had availed himself of Omar during his school days, and to bring a strange woman into his house was unthinkable.

"I thought that maybe you would like to go into the countryside today. There are a number of small villages that are of interest, and you can see how the bedouins live."

"That would be fine," I answered. "Do I need to wear anything special?"

"No, you look fine,"

I was wearing a light cotton shirt and thin cotton pants. I had learned to pack appropriately for this climate.

"You might bring a hat, if you have one, We'll be in the sun most of the day."

"Yes, I did bring one."

We drove in the air conditioned comfort of his car out into the countryside. Once we left Masqat behind we were greeted with low sand dunes as far as the eye could see. Occasionally there was an isolated dwelling. But, the infrequent green spaces dotted around the city were not to be seen once Masqat was left behind. Traffic was light and There was the occasional camel and horse drawn carts. The horses were skin and bones and I marveled at their ability to draw their heavy loads.

We came to a small village of maybe fifteen or twenty dwellings. In the center of the buildings was an open square. It was filled with people and canopied stalls.

"It's market day here. Would you like to get out and look around?" Shariff inquired.

"Yes, very much."

As we got out of the car I was hit by the heat like a hot hammer. It was boiling and the bright sun reflected from every surface. People say that dry heat is easier to bear than humid heat--I beg to differ. Hot is hot--dry or humid. The people were swathed in caftans and all other manner of clothing and their heads were wrapped in the traditional scarves. I wondered how they could stand all that clothing.

The stall vendors were mostly women, and heavily veiled. Everything that one might need was displayed--mostly foodstuffs, cloth and daily utensils along with a smattering of what could only be considered luxury items like plastic flowers, some brass goods and the like. As we passed a small stall selling dates and a small assortment of other dried fruit, the proprietress leaned out, grabbed Shariff's hand and pressed it to her forehead murmuring as she did. Shariff, with ease and aplomb said something to her, smiled and we walked on. I could hear the woman chattering to her neighbors as we left.

I was grateful as we got back into the cool comfort of the car and drove on. About a half hour later we came to an encampment at the side of the road. There were several tents pitched--one larger than the others. Shariff had the driver pullover and we again alighted into the furnace. A number of people, mostly women were about and when they saw us the scurried to one of the smaller tents. Out of the largest walked a tall, stately and obviously proud man. He came over to us, greeted Shariff and nodded to me. We were invited into the large tent. It was surprisingly cooler than the outside and the ground had been leveled and covered with carpets. We were invited to sit and moments later a young man entered carrying a pot of sweet, aromatic tea. Tea is obligatory as a manner of good manners.

I wasn't sure if Shariff knew our host, an older man who looked to be in his sixties and was seated against a pillow. However, they chatted amiably and Shariff offered a brief translation from time to time as the conversed. There were four other men in the tent--the one who initially greeted us and three others in diminishing ages. The younger ones stared unabashedly at me. I suspected that I might have been the first foreigner to grace their tent.

After a few minutes Shariff turned to to me and announced, "We have been invited to take the midday meal with them. I have accepted. It would be impolite to refuse."

"I understand. That would be fine," I answered. I was a bit apprehensive as I didn't know what the meal would consist of the hygiene in which it would be prepared.

Shariff turned to the driver who was sitting quietly just inside the tent and spoke to him. He got up, went to the car and returned with two baskets of food that had been prepared earlier that morning for our journey. I found out later, that Shariff had accepted the bedouin's hospitality only if they would also share the food that he had brought. The lunch turned out to be delicious, varied and eminently digestible. I was, of course, obliged to partake of the meal with my fingers as utensils were not used. I had learned, years ago, from Shariff that In his country food was taken in the right hand--NEVER with the left. It is considered unclean. Shariff smiled proudly as I ate in the traditional style without major disaster. Apparently our host was equally impressed as Shariff later told me.

We visited another village before turning back to Masqat. The day had been one that I would not soon forget and I thanked shariff for his conspicuous hospitality. We chatted amiably about Oman, masqat, family and the like.

For some inexplicable reason I asked Shariff, "How long has Ali been working for you?"

"Three years," he answered.

"Does he come from this area?"

"Yes. His family is very poor. His father is elderly and they have little resources. It was his mother who greeted me in the market this morning."

The image of the woman sprang back into my mind and I reassessed what I had seen. I said no more about the subject.

We arrived back at Shariff's home late in the afternoon. I showered and napped for an hour. The day had been tiring--the sun drained my energy. I awoke, changed into fresh clothes, met Shariff for our Scotch and again had a delightful dinner with his family. At 10:00, I again excused myself and went up to my room.

I sat musing over the day when I heard the hoped for light knock on the door. I immediately opened the door and let Ali in. He was dressed as he always was. I quickly enfolded him into my arms and asked, "Did Shariff send you tonight?"

Ali answered with a wide smile, "No. I come myself."

I kissed him deeply and he responded.

Deftly, I unbuttoned the top of his caftan and raised it over his head. I smiled to see his cock already at attention beneath the loose underpants. I knelt before him and slowly drew them down. The hard cock sprang outward as the waist band passed it. I bent forward and gently kissed the glistening, rosy cock-head.

Ali hissed as he drew in his breath in excitement. I opened my mouth and slowly took his opulent cock--tonguing it as I went.

"Ahhhh," escaped from his lips.

I reached behind and cupped his delightful ass and pulled him even deeper into my mouth! He was delicious! His luscious cock sent shivers up and down my spine. Slowly I moved his cock in and out of my mouth.

Ali reached down grasped my upper arms and lifted me to a standing position. He kissed me gently and began to unbutton my shirt. I tried to help him, but he whispered, "No. I do it!"

So I let him. He peeled my shirt off, bent down and licked my nipples--sending shock waves through my frame. He took one into his mouth and sucked it while he reached for my waist band and unhooked it. I gasped. Then he lightly nibbled on the other nipple as he lowered my zipper--his pearly teeth lightly grasping the erect little button.

"Ahhhh," escaped from my mouth, and my pants fell to the floor.

Ali's hands cupped my burgeoning cock and balls suspended in my cotton briefs and he began to manipulate them. Involuntarily my hips flexed forward against his warm hands. Quickly Ali lowered my briefs and my cock leaped upward with a bobbing motion. He knelt before my cock, holding it in one hand and cupping my balls in the other. Carefully his inspected my turgid dick as if trying to memorize its size end dimensions.

"It is . . . beautiful, " he whispered.

"YOU are beautiful," I whispered back

Ali looked up into my eyes, smiled, opened his mouth and swallowed my cock.

"Ahhhh," escaped from my lips.

My legs were quaking from that delicious sensation. I reached down, lifted Ali up and guided him to the bed fearing that if I did not, I would collapse from his lascivious ministrations. Quickly Ali maneuvered himself so that we both could pleasure the other. We each swallowed the other's cock and began sucking with abandon. I was amazed at how well Ali performed, not having much experience. His mouth sent galvanic shocks through my cock and to my whole body! Guess to some people sucking comes naturally!

His cock was hard and smooth as my lips traveled up and down the shaft. I stopped sucking from time to time to lick his hairless balls. Delicious! I ran my fingers along his satiny inner thigh and he lifted his leg and flexed his knee in response. I kissed his inner thigh and he moaned. I had an unimpeded view of this tight shaved ass. The little button barely perceptible. Moving from his cock and balls, my tongue circled that puckered hole.

"Ahhhh," he moaned. I licked it more insistently.

Suddenly Ali let loose of my cock, sat up and demanded, "What you do?" His eyes were wide and questioning.

"What you do?" he repeated more insistently.

"Did you like it?" I asked.

He did not answer, but his look was one of incomprehensibility!

"I licked your ass," I explained.

"Why?" he asked, no, demanded.

"Did you like it?" I asked again. Then I added, "No one has done this to you before?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Ali, did it feel good?"

He exhaled, closed his eyes and nodded his head. "But it bad!" he whispered in no uncertain terms.

"Nothing is bad, Ali, if it gives pleasure."

He lay there looking at me. I could see that he was trying to reconcile what he had always thought was 'bad' from what gave him such unexpected pleasure. Clearly this was a new experience for him.

"Do you want me to do it again?"

He was quiet for a moment then shook his head. For now, I assumed, cultural myths had won out. I went back to the past night's practice and ran my finger over his quaking, wet hole. This time he moaned and spread his legs slightly.

"You like it when I do this?" I inquired.

"Yes," he murmured, "But, . . . I . . . can not . . . to you"

I smiled, "I'm not asking you to do it to me, I merely asked you if you like it?" saying that, I slipped my finger in up to the first knuckle.

"Ahhhh," escaped from his lips and he raised his hips. "I like."

Here was a young man, a clearly passionate young man who enjoyed these pleasures. Even though his lot in life, up 'til now, was to be a vessel, a toy for others, when he was given the choice he gave himself unreservedly. I bent over and slid my lips over his cock again, tonguing it as I went. Ali moaned deeply, surrendering again to the joy of having his cock sucked and I perceived that he had begun to put behind him the earlier quandary of his pleasure at being rimmed.

I reached over to the night stand for the lotion, keeping my rhythm on his stiff fuck-muscle uninterrupted, and anointed my hole as well as the interior. Ali's eyes were still closed and he moaned quietly. I poured a dollop into my hand and smeared it over his throbbing cock, glorying in the touch.

"Ahhhh, . . . That nice." he murmured and looked down at his cock encased in my lotioned hand. Again, he closed his eyes and basked in the luxurious sensation.

I straddled his hips, still grasping his rod and rubbed his rosy cock-head against my hole.

"Ahhh," escaped again from his lips.

Then I bore down, popping his flared head into my hole, and held still while I got used to its intrusion.

Ali's eyes popped open. "What you do?"

"I'm sitting on your cock, Ali."

"But, . . . you are . . . man!"

"So are you a man and you let me fuck you!"

"Not same . . . . "

"Yes, it is, Ali. You gave me yourself last night, and I'm giving you myself tonight" Then I bore down 'til most of his hardened pole was in my ass.

"Arghhh!"

"Do you like it, Ali?"

"I like . . . . "

"I am still a man, Ali!"

"Yes . . . . "

"And, you are also . . . a man!"

He did not answer. I sat all the way down 'til his considerable cock was buried deep in my hot fuck-tunnel.

"Arghhh!" again exploded from his throat.

"You . . . are . . . also . . . a . . . man, Ali!" I repeated with more force.

"Yes . . ." he uttered quietly.

Slowly I began to lift off and then moved downward again in a slow, easy rhythm.

"Ohhhh! That feel good!" he groaned.

"Do you like fucking this man?"

"Yes, I like . . . fucking you . . . man."

I increased my speed up and down. His abundant cock was sending thrilling sensations through my body as it invaded me! It was luscious! I bent over and kissed him fully and deeply. He responded and moaned. Then I pulled off. Stepped off the bed, grasped his hand and guided him to the center of the room. There was a quizzical look on his face.

I turned my back to him, bent over slightly and said, "Fuck me, Ali! I want a man to fuck this man!" I reached behind and guided his cock to my quivering hole. I wanted his to take charge--not passively allow his cock to be fucked. Ali grasped my hips and slipped his cock back into my hot fuck-tunnel.

"Ahhh!" and he began a slow rhythmic fucking.

The feeling was indescribable--partially because of that glorious cock, but mostly because it was Ali.

"Oh, You feel so good in me! . . . . Can you see your cock going into me?" I asked looking over my shoulder at him.

He looked down, concentration was written across his face, and then a slight smile broke across his visage.

"Yes, I see! It look nice . . . "

I glanced to my right and suddenly saw our reflection in a large mirror that was mounted on the wall.

"Look, Ali," and I nodded my head towards the mirror. I could see his reflection as he gazed on that sight. First at his lunging hips and then into my eyes--reflected.

"Nice," was all he said. Then he slowly withdrew all but his bulbous head, watching his reflection intently and shoved it back in again.

"Ahhh," I gasped.

Again Ali repeated the same movements. Watching attentively as his cock was exposed and alternately shoved back in.

Again, I gasped from that lascivious sensation and the equally erotic reflection. Ali then closed his eyes and increased the speed of his penetrations. Soon, he was beyond conscious volition and was fucking me passionately and with abandon. He slammed into my ass again and again with such force that my whole body quaked with each inward drive. I felt his hands tighten on my hips and could see his buttock tense preceding each jolting penetration. It was a primal dance of complete abandon.

Then, "ARGHHH! I CUM!" and he slammed his cock deep into my hole. I could feel it spasm again and again as he groaned, " Arghhh, . . . Ahhhh, . . . Ahhh!" Then he collapsed over my back and wrapped his arms around my chest. I could feel his hot breath on my back as he gasped, breathing heavily. I did not move, basking in the feel of his substantial cock buried deep inside me and his arms about me.

Several minutes passed before he quietly stood erect and slowly withdrew his softened dick. I turned around and enfolded him in my arms. "That was wonderful, " I murmured in his ear.

"Yes . . . wonderful," then he whispered, "You not cum?"

"No," I murmured.

He reached for my detumescent cock and said, "I make you cum."

"It's not necessary . . . . I enjoyed you fucking me . . . it's not necessary," I said and removed his hand

We showered together quietly, gently, without passion and crawled into the bed. Ali turned on his side and I put my arm around his chest and we snuggled up, spoon-fashion. The touch of his firm, smooth, rounded ass against my cock began to cause it to grow. I fought to make it subside its action and soon was asleep.

Some time later, I awoke to a soft pumping motion around my crotch. I realized that I was eroticized and that my cock was buried in Ali's tight hole. We were still in the spoon-position and I guessed that Ali must have lotioned his ass and my cock and maneuvered it into his tight love-tunnel.

"Mmmmm," I moaned, "What are you doing?"

He thrust his hips backwards, forcefully impaling himself further on my sensitized cock. And, he repeated what I had said earlier, "Do you like fucking this man?"

"Oh, yes," I said, "You are a most beautiful man!" I just laid there, holding him closely while he fucked my cock with his pumping ass!

My orgasm was soft but incredibly sensuous. And I moaned in his ear, "Ahhhhh. . . " We laid there quietly.

And, then, "You are the most wonderful man that I have ever met," I whispered into his ear.

"Mmmmm," was all he said and he snuggled closer holding my encircling arm and kissing it.

Again, I fell asleep. My cock was still lodged in his ass and we lay that way for an eternity of dreams.

-- (Four-and-a-half years later) --

I was to leave that Monday afternoon. But before I departed for the airport, I talked to Shariff about Ali and found that he had done well in secondary school.

Subsequently, I arranged for Ali to be enrolled in a small college near where I live. He was given a partial scholarship and I have been able to provide the rest of his expenses.

Initially, his gratefulness took the tact of wanting to make love to me the first night he arrived in the States. With the greatest of self control, I declined. Maybe he was like Omar, and performed what was expected of him. I told him he needed to be free from those kind of shackles and see where his true being led him. I indicated to him that I possessed the greatest affection for him, and always will. But, I did not want him to be or feel obliged. I did not want a fuck-boy.

Since he came to the States, he has visited me regularly. I have marveled at what a wonderful man he has become. He has told me that he has dated some girls, but his natural reticence did not allow him to elaborate. I certainly would not pry into his personal life.

Ali graduates next week. His exams are over and he called me inquiring if he could spend the time 'til graduation with me.

Of course, I said, "Yes."

He then stated softly, "I have something important to to discuss with you!"

Dare I hope?

Journal