Orchids

In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@gmail.com. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contributions, using the link https://donate.nifty.org/. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.

ORCHIDS

by Marin Giustinian

Edinburgh, 2019

In mid-winter, Ian Swanson regularly returned to the moist hot jungle of the orchid house in the Royal Botanic Garden of Edinburgh. Each time he entered the vast glass covered garden, he shed his overcoat and sweater, breathed in the musky scented air, and went to admire each orchid blooming there. Their strange captivating charms and sensual forms fascinated Ian, giving him a feeling of peace and energy.

Immersed in the luxuriance of the tropical vegetation, Ian slowly strolled alone along the narrow pathways, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Tiny droplets of perspiration pearled on his forehead. He was miles away from Mallaig, his home town on the western Highland coast, miles away also from the University of Edinburgh. The fourth year history lectures, the library, the dissertations, the incessant discussions with his mates were forgotten along with the bustle of the city, the noise, and the anguish of always being late. Ian needed to come there. The orchid house was his therapy, his evasion back to the essentials, back to his element and nothing more.

Ian was a healthy androgynous shaggy blond lad of twenty-two. He was tall and lithe, with hazel wide-open eyes. The filtered light of his enclosed Eden enhanced his pinkish plump lips and unblemished complexion. He was aware of the way he was and was happy to be that way even if he was a bit of a misfit. Among the orchids he fitted in to perfection.

In the centre of the space, there was a small clearing with a bench. Ian sat, spreading his legs, his hands casually covering his crotch. He closed his eyes and listened to the whispering silence around him. He sensed the fragrance of distant islands, and felt a slight arousal rise under his sweaty hands. It was a sacred moment wherein he savoured the miracle of being alive... of being a young male, very much alive! He checked the time on his phone and saw that he could linger a bit longer. Bliss!

Zahri Khan, a British Pakistani from Cumbria, was an apprentice gardener at the Royal Botanic. He had just been assigned to the orchid house. He was a quiet young man of twenty-three, enjoying his job and especially thankful in mid winter to be wearing skimpy summer attire, taking care of some of the planet's most gorgeous flowers.

To say he was handsome would be an understatement. His intense eyes and fleshy lips, always soft with a slight hint of a smile, made him glow, especially in the orchid house. It's commonplace to say that beauty attracts beauty, but it's true!

Pushing his wheelbarrow, Zahri saw Ian on the bench, happy. Doubtlessly, the young man was the most beautiful person Zahri ever beheld. Sensing Zahri's presence, Ian opened his eyes. Their eyes were locked an instant in mute admiration.

Zahri mumbled, "Excuse me for bothering you..."

"You don't bother me," stuttered Ian, suddenly timid, "Uh... I have to go anyway."

Zahri tilted his head and shrugged.

"But I'll be back soon," stated Ian, not even wondering why he said that.

"My name's Zahri. Zah-ree..."

"Zah-ree... And mine's Ian. Glad to meet you."

"Ian... I'll remember."

Then they just stood there, immobile, looking at each other, obviously feeling something that neither had ever felt. A few seconds later, Ian collected his sweater and coat, smiled at Zahri and said, "I'll be back."

"Come back soon."

Ian thought he would freeze to death as he waited for the bus. He didn't mind. He was alive, very much alive, but never like this!

Once back home in his top floor studio flat on George IV Bridge, Ian looked up the name, Zahri, on Google.

"Zahri: Pakistani origin male name meaning flower-like, or fresh and beautiful like a flower."

"Good God!" exclaimed Ian, giggling like a school boy. The name seemed too accurate to be true. Laughing, Ian collapsed on his bed, suddenly feeling giddy, repeating over and over, "Zahri, Zahree, ZaH-Reee!..."

Then he sat up, wandering what was going on in his head, in his life. He checked his pantry. He needed to go out and buy groceries. He had totally dismissed studying for the moment. Something more important was going on inside his soul and he just wanted to let it happen. Also he was suddenly very hungry.

Zahri returned after work to his flat-share in Leith. Ian was still on his mind. That made him feel lighthearted, yet worried.

If his family knew that he was obsessed by another fellow, they would kill him. Pakistani men are not gay! Even British Pakistani! However, Zahri knew he was gay. Other than a few boyhood jerk sessions with his best mate, and sharing each other on two occasional blowjobs, Zahri had no other sexual experience.

As a teen, growing up on the estate near Carlisle where his father was gardener, his mother scolded him about him not saying his prayers and his father plagued him with questions about his disinterest in girls.

That's why Zahri was happy to leave home at the age of sixteen and go to work with a flower and lawn business in Melrose. When he was twenty, the opportunity rose for him to become an apprentice at the Royal Botanic Garden of Edinburgh. He seized it. He found a room in an inexpensive flat-share and joined the crew doing general outdoor gardening. Two years later, he became the assistant to the gardener in charge of the orchid house. His new boss smiled, wondering what Zahri was saying as he softly spoke to the orchids. At least the orchids seemed to enjoy the attention.

Zahri got along decently well with his fellow workers and his two flatmates seemed to ignore him. As long as he was left alone, that suited him well enough.

Then Ian dropped into his life, out of the blue! He couldn't get him off his mind. He kept looking for Ian, hoping he would show up once more. In fact, he even told his orchids to enchant Ian, compelling him to come back for him! The orchids seemed to agree.

Ian needed to talk with someone about Zahri. He called his best friend, Jessica. She was also from Mallaig. They had known each other seemingly for ages. She teased him about his voice squeaking. He teased her about her budding tits. She was the perfect tomboy, the best possible friend for Ian.

Ian had an older brother that persecuted him ever since the day he was born. Both his parents worked in the offices of the CalMac Ferries and his brother worked on the line between Mallaig and Skye. Everyone who knew the family wondered if Ian was from outer space or not. Only his History teacher recognised his and Jessica's intellectual gifts. He encouraged them to attend the University. He even helped them acquire bursaries in order to properly finance their studies.

Jessica was his confidant, his counsellor, and simply his best friend. After a month in Edinburgh, Jessica found the girl of her life. They moved in together. Ian was a bit jealous at first, but with time, he finally became happy for them both. Jessica was still there for him whenever he needed her... and he needed her now.

"Hello, Jessica, I need to talk. When can we get together?"

Sensing the stress in Ian's voice, Jessica replied, "Now."

"Now? Okay! Can we meet on Grassmarket at our favourite pub? I'm paying."

"You're paying! My darling Ian, you really do need to talk!"

"In an hour? Will that do?"

"Of course. Didn't I say, NOW?"

"Bless you!"

Ian only waited ten minutes before Jessica showed up. She immediately spotted him and made her way to his table.

"So what's so urgent? By the way you look great!"

"Thanks sweetheart! You're still the most beautiful girl in my heart."

"Shut up and get to the point."

"When you bumped into Susan coming out of the library and made her spill her books on the lawn, you said you and she immediately knew you were in love."

"That's what I told you. Our eyes fixed each other's. My heart skipped a beat and my tits tingled. She just stood there and I knew she was feeling the same thing. When love hits you like that, it hits hard!"

"I think I'm in love..."

"What? My gorgeous sweet little virgin is in LOVE? Now fancy that!"

"I said I THINK I'm in love..."

"Bollocks! Love isn't something you THINK. Love just happens. It hits you directly in the throat, the guts... and I guess, for those who have one, in the cock."

Ian blushed.

"Now tell me everything! I want ALL the details. Is the person you're in love with a He or a She?"

Ian was saved by the waiter.

"Two pints of Guiness, please."

"A He or a She, Ian?"

"His name is Zahri and..."

"ZAH-REE! Good God, how exotic!"

"It's a Pakistani name. I looked it up on Google. It means 'beautiful like a flower' and he is just that beautiful. He works in the orchid house at the Royal Botanic..."

"Is he a genuine Pakistani?"

"He looks like one, but I don't know. All I know is his name and that he took my breath away and that I told him I would come back and he immediately told me his name and he -- and he looked straight through me and my heart raced and YES, my cock felt happy..."

"Okay! Let's get things straight. Number one. You ARE in love. Number two. You've got to find out if he's in love with you. In order to find out, you've got to touch him. When you touch him and you feel a current, that means he loves you. If you feel nothing, then go weep in a corner somewhere," sentenced Jessica.

"Touch him? How? Where?"

"Ian, you can be so damn smart for so many things, but for the essential, you're a nyaff... a fucking dimwit!"

"You're not helping me, Jessica..."

"Sorry... You go back to the garden. You simply tell him that you'd like to know him better. You smile and you touch his shoulder, you know, like all the menfolk do. You invite him out for a pint... Oh shit... That's right, maybe he's Muslim. No alcohol... Whatever, you invite him out for tea, or even to your flat after work..."

"My flat? That's not very subtle, is it?..."

"The weather's miserable. You can't just go take a walk somewhere... Maybe he wants to know you more than you imagine."

"I hadn't considered that..."

"Listen, thickhead... You are fucking gorgeous! Love is not a one-way thing... You have to be two, each mad about the other and if you're not both on a collision course, forget it. Do you just want to fuck or is it something deeper?"

"I feel it's deeper... In fact, I don't know..."

"As I was saying, clean up your messy flat, and casually invite him over for an evening in. If he doesn't say no, insist. If he immediately says yes, there's a good chance that he's already hooked. Get straight to the point with him!" concluded Jessica.

Ian remained silent for a minute. The pints arrived.

Jessica lifted her glass and said, "To love!"

"Yeah... to love," echoed Ian, still a bit lost in his thoughts.

"So what do you plan to say to your Zah-ree?"

"I'll tell him I'd like us to get to know each other better and see what he comes up with, if anything."

"That's playing it a bit too subtle, you coward."

"That's my way..." mumbled Ian.

"Whatever your way is, just get him in your bed!"

"Do you think it's really that important?"

"Is water wet?"

That chat with Jessica gave Ian wings. He studied some, then decided to skip class the following morning, and fell asleep dreaming of Zahri. As the first rays of sun hit the Edinburgh Castle, he climbed out of bed, cooked himself a hearty breakfast, and showered. He tried to style his very unruly hair, dabbed some expensive fragrance on his pits, then his neck, and dressed nice and simple.

Ian paid his £5 entrance fee to the greenhouses and went directly to the orchids. Again, the heat and the heavy scented air filled him, lifting his soul. He felt that his cock was slightly restless too. He strained his ear to hear if there was anything going on.

Nothing.

Slowly, he made his way to the usual bench. He tried to calm his beating heart. Where in the hell are you, Zahri?

Ian's mouth was dry. After a moment, he was tempted to get up and leave, persuaded that all this Zahri business was just a wishful fantasy. He even began to wonder if he hadn't dreamt it all up by himself and that Zahri didn't even exist.

"Ian!"

Ian startled, turned and gasped. There HE was, more beautiful than ever.

"Glad to see you're back... I look for you all the time."

Playing it cool, Ian took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "Good morning, Zahri. I didn't hear you coming."

"I always walk quietly in the morning. I don't want to upset the orchids while I spray mist on them."

Then point blank, Ian stuttered, "I've thought about you a lot, Zahri...".

Zahri remained silent.

"Did I offend you?"

"No, not at all, Ian... I've been thinking a lot about you too."

Ian beamed, relieved.

"Listen, Ian, I'm not supposed to chat with the visitors while working, but if you want, we can meet after work sometime, go for a walk, get to know each other a bit... that is, if you want..."

"I was going to invite you to come over to my place to chat, sip some wine, and nibble something together. From my little flat, there's a great view on Edinburgh Castle. We can lounge around, light a fire and see what happens," suggested Ian, suddenly marvelling at his own boldness.

Zahri beamed, saying, "Wine, fire, lounging... Sounds great! I'd love that. I'd love an evening in, with you, Ian."

"Great! Can we say tomorrow evening?"

"What address? What time? "

Ian gave Zahri his address, asking, "Is six okay for you?"

"No problem"

Ian added, "They say it might snow..."

"Even better. Snow is so romantic..." replied Zahri, smiling at Ian.

Ian's heart skipped a beat.

They gave each other their phones and punched in their respective numbers. When they shook hands, they held on to each other a bit longer, feeling the current. Jessica was right. Touching was more than just touching!

Both took a deep breath.

"I'm happy, Ian."

"Me too."

Life was wonderful!

Ian hurried off to the University just in time to attend the second lecture. He had problems concentrating, thinking about Zahri's comment on the romantic snow... He prayed for snow!

Once back in his flat, he called Jessica.

"You're right!" stated Ian.

"Of course I'm right, but about what?"

"Touching"

Jessica giggled on the phone as Ian told her about his upcoming date with Zahri.

Saturday, Ian cleared up the mess in his flat, made several trips to the waste bin, then cleaned the place from top to bottom. He swept, washed, polished the window panes, scrubbed the entire bathroom. He fluffed the cushions on the rug in front of the fireplace. He changed the towels and polished the mirror. He went down and bought an extra sack of coal with kindling to light a nice fire, and even invested in a pack of candles and two glass candleholders for the atmosphere.

Ian admired his simple little studio. He imagined it with an open fire and candles... and snow falling outside. Romantic!"

Indeed, snow began to fall as Ian went out to splurge on caterer's finger food instead of getting his kitchen dirty. He also chose several bottles of pre-chilled white Portuguese wine. His budget didn't allow whisky, nor stem glasses... Never mind!

It was night at half past four. The city lights illuminated the swirling snow. Ian admired it a moment and then showered, making himself as attractive as possible. He chose to wear very casual clothes. Then he quickly put together a playlist of soft classical music on his Mac. At half past five he lit the fire and candles and turned off the overhead light. Through his window, through the falling snow, Edinburgh castle floated in the night, looking like a fairytale dream.

The intercom chimed. Ian buzzed open the street door. His heart was pounding as he waited at the top of the stairs.

Zahri appeared, powdered with snow on his cap and coat, the tip of his nose, pink. He had a big brown paper bag under his arm.

"Come on in. Make yourself at home!"

Zahri handed the bag to Ian, saying, "I brought a little gift for you..."

Ian took the gift. Zahri spotted the coat hook behind the door and shed his wraps.

Ian gasped as he looked inside the bag. Two stems of white orchid clusters planted in a small flower pot seemed to say hello.

Zahri beamed, "I'm sure they'll be happy here. I stole them for you yesterday after you left."

Tears were pearling in Ian's smiling eyes.

"I don't know how to thank you enough, Zahri!"

"Why don't you try a hug?"

Ian put the flowers on the windowsill, turned, and rushed over to Zahri with arms wide open. Neither were bothered by the soft collision of their bulges in their jeans when their bodies pressed tight one against the other.

To say the least, that was a warm start for a cold winter's evening.

Six o'clock slid into seven, then eight.

Zahri had explained that he had grown up on the estate of a certain Lord Crosby near Carlisle, that his grandfather had been the gardener of a former Lord Crosby on colonial duty in Karachi. When Pakistan freed itself from the British Crown, Lord Crosby returned to his family estate in Cumbria. He had his gardener, and family come with him to take over the Manor's garden. Zahri's father was an infant at the time. He grew up on the estate, married, and became the head gardener himself. Zahri was born. He too grew up on the estate grounds, went to school in Carlisle, and never felt Pakistani. He and his father didn't get along and when he was sixteen, he found a job working in the Gardens of Melrose. Several years later he heard about an apprenticeship at the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh. He moved into a flat share in Leith and that was it.

Ian quietly asked, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Zahri replied even quieter, "No, I don't have a girlfriend. I'm gay. No one knows it but me... but..."

"But what? There's no problem. In fact, I'm glad..."

Relieved, Zahri whispered, "I had to tell you, even if I dreaded ruining our friendship... and you? Are you gay or not?"

"I don't know... yet..." openly replied Ian.

There was a moment of silence. Zahri, dismissing the subject, continued, "Now it's your turn to tell me about yourself, Ian."

Ian poured another glass of wine for each and then said, "You know, there's not much to tell..."

"You can open your heart with me, Ian... I'm sure there's a lot. You said earlier that you study History. There must be a reason."

"Mr. McKenzie is the reason... "

"Mr. McKenzie?"

"Yes"

There was a pause.

Ian continued, "If I bore you, let me know. Okay?"

"Okay"

"Like you, I grew up out of the city. My family works for the ferry company in Mallaig, on the West coast further north. It's a small town with nothing going on. I'm the misfit of the family. I have an older brother who tormented me ever since I was born. He's the delight of my father, a brawny Scottish male with a beard and freckles and hair everywhere. My mom said I was an adorable accident... which meant that I wasn't exactly wanted. You see how I look, how I talk and walk. You see that I'm already twenty-two and only shave once a month..."

Zahri laughed, rubbed his chin, and said, "Like me."

"Yes, like you, and like you even more, I don't use slang. I only speak correct English, like you!"

Zahri smiled.

Ian continued, "Did you fit in with your family, your schoolmates, with society?"

"No, I'm not like the way people expect a British Pakistani to be, you know, with an accent, the prejudices, the 'fear', and all that bunch of... of, you see what I mean."

"I see. And for me, Zahri, I'm an alien in my own homeland simply because I'm not like what I'm expected to be... Try to understand!"

"Tell me about Mr. McKenzie."

"Mr. McKenzie was my history teacher in high school."

"It's because of him that you now study history?"

"That's right... He helped me a lot. That's why I wanted to be like him, do like him. He was the only person who thoroughly understood my unspoken self. I felt he loved me in his special way. He's the one who helped Jessica and me get bursaries and come to study here. We always exchange a mail a week. I wrote to him about how happy I am to have met you and that I hoped I could become your friend."

"You are dear to me, Ian... and Jessica?"

"Jessica's my dearest friend here on earth. We're the same age. She's a perfect lesbian tomboy, smart as a razor and we've been friends ever since we were twelve. I didn't mind her teasing me about my voice when it began to squeak. She didn't mind me teasing her about her tiny tits when they began to peak. We never made love; we just loved each other. In fact I've never made love with anybody."

Zahri raised an eyebrow.

Ian noticed and replied, "You said I could open my heart. So here goes! The only person that inspires me to love and make love is..."

Ian took a deep breath and declared, "The only person that inspires me to love and make love to is YOU!"

Zahri said nothing. He slowly stood, then walked over to the window. He remained silent for what seemed to be an eternity for Ian. Then he turned around and simply stated, "What you've just said, I could say the same thing about you..."

Ian held his breath.

"It's stopped snowing. It must be freezing outside... May I stay?"

"Please stay, Zahri."

"Thank you"

Ian beamed. "More wine?"

"With pleasure..."

Nothing more was said until dawn.

Tiny flames trembled on the dwindling coals; the candles were spent and the glow of the sleeping city enhanced the orchids in the window. Cuddled side by side, Zahri and Ian sipped their wine, sharing the silence of their heartbeats, relishing those sacred moments that precede love's overflow.

'Love at first sight' takes a long time to happen. Our souls exist in another time than our awareness. The 'first sight' is just a spark that illuminates a latent love that was always there.

Neither Zahri nor Ian felt the need of words. All was already said between their souls since the beginning of time. Seemingly, this happens only to misfits.

Ian and Zahri felt no haste to release the orgasmic flame already smouldering between them.

With the last drop of wine, both slowly stood and undressed. Nude, face to face, their eyes worshiped each other's perfect body. Ian's moist glans gleamed in the dim light. His foreskin was retracted at the end of his slim, very elegant cock. It danced a bit with each heartbeat.

Zahri's sculptural presence radiated. A tiny stream of transparent slick dangled from the tip of his luscious cut cock. Their eyes gleamed, beholding each other, as they walked to either side of the narrow double bed. In perfect synchrony, they pulled back the covers, slid in, and and tenderly embraced each other, their legs gently entwining. Little by little, they began to writhe, relishing each other's humming mouth with tongue-fed kisses. The male scent of their communion filled the air as each one surrendered his soul to the other's.

Their kisses found the intimacy of pits and navels, crotches and groins. They thirsted for each other's cock, straining to flow, to give, to exult. Their mouths sucked, their hands kneaded each other's buttocks. They hummed with open throats, never gagging, eager to be quenched by each other's offerings.

Ian's orgasm suddenly erupted, gushing sweet semen with every thrust. Swallowing Ian's cum, Zahri's own orgasm surged. Ian drank the abundant bursts of sperm spewing from Zahri swollen glans.

Spent, satiated, they gasped, catching their breath, their mouths still full of each other's oozing cock. Ian pulled Zahri up to face him. They cuddled. The coals no longer glowed. Only the city lights illuminated their smiles as ever so softly they drifted together, falling asleep in a shared embrace.

Sunday morning found them still entwined in the disheveled sheets. Zahri was awake, eyes open, admiring Ian sleeping in the milky morning light. He delicately pulled himself out of Ian's arms and tiptoed to the bathroom. As he was pissing, Ian sided up to him and pissed a strong stream joining his.

"Good morning, love..." uttered Ian.

"Good morning to you too," echoed Zahri.

"Coming back to bed?" inquired Ian.

"Don't you want to shower?"

"Then go back to bed?"

"Then go to bed."

Ian turned the electric radiator on. They bathed each other with the telephone shower, standing in the old bathtub, lathering each other's alert cock and balls. After towelling off they darted back to the bed, dived in and began frolicking, laughing that special laugh of pure simple glee. Yes, happy they were! A new dawn, a new life, a growing love that was theirs alone.

"Look at the orchids, Zahri. They seem to be laughing."

"They love us too!"

Ian crawled on top of Zahri and began to laugh exclaiming, "And finally I don't care if this is love or not. I care about you, about us. That's enough, no?"

"Yes, definitely enough..."

"And I can't get enough of you! Are you staying until Monday?"

"Yes!"

"Thirsty?" inquired Ian, smiling.

"And you?"

They spun around under the covers, grabbed each other's soap scented cock and sucked like their life depended on it... and to a certain extent, it did.

Zahri cooked breakfast while Ian shovelled out the cinders and lit the morning fire. Ian then squeezed a pitcher full of orange juice and poured the coffee while Zahri served the plates. There's always something magic about after-sex breakfast!

"Do you have plans for the day?" inquired Zahri, pouring the second cup of coffee.

"Yes, just stay inside and be lazy together."

After tidying up the kitchen space, they stood side by side looking out the window. The studio was warm. The orchids, bathed in the pale winter light cheered up the view of the drab, damp rooftops. The city was Sunday silent. Remnants of snow still lingered here and there. Zahri took Ian's hand and admired his long tapered fingers, then kissed them, saying, "I feel like a new life has begun for me, Ian. I'm free and I'm happy. Your love unlocked my soul and gave me the key."

Overwhelmed, Ian gently lifted Zahri's hand to his cheek, then kissed the calloused palm. An instant of eternity smiled in their love-filled eyes, silently sealing their definite bond.

Cuddled together in front of the fire, Ian asked, "Why don't you give notice to your flat share and come live here with me. There's space enough for two..."

"If I come, it's not for the space... It's for you!" shot back Zahri, grabbing Ian, tickling him as they rollicked together in the cushions.

"So are you moving in?"

"As soon as possible"

"Youpee!!!" shouted Ian.

They spent the rest of the morning ironing out the details of living together. They discussed what they could share and what's personal. There were things just as silly as the brand of toothpaste they liked. Zahri said that he owned nearly nothing, perhaps two suitcases full of his toiletries, shoes, and clothes. He also had a laptop, a smartphone, his papers, and that was it. He had to pay a month's rent in advance following his departure, but he said he had the money.

Ian said that normally he finished his studies in July and he would no longer have his bursary for the rent.

"So what do you plan to do?" inquired Zahri, a bit worried.

"I start in August as a tour guide on foot with an agency that handles everything. Being a history scholar, I'll also pass the exam to become a licensed guide for the city of Edinburgh. The pay's good. I'm not worried."

"So we'll find a flat together and go fifty-fifty for the rent and expenses. Do you drive?"

"Only my bike and bus."

"Like me..."

After enjoying a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, Zahri said, "I could caress you, rub you, worship you all day long."

"Sounds delightful... All over?"

"All over!"

"I often rub myself with scented skin oil to stay soft and smell good. I like to I use it for wanking too. Would you like to use it?"

"Definitely... but just one question... You're uncut. Why do you need oil to wank? I need it, being circumcised... but why you?"

"Even if I'm uncut, I like to uncover my glans and stroke it with oil, like you do, I suppose... but there's more. I like to fuck myself with my fingers or with a candle. There! Since you are gay, I guess you like to pleasure your arse too, don't you?"

"Wow! That's direct! To be honest, I don't know if I'm top or bottom. I said I'm gay because I feel gay! When I wank, I dream about beautiful males. My only experience was some boy-play in school. A friend called Harry and I used to wank in secret together. We'd take our bikes and go to the woods. We'd do each other standing up. We even sucked each other off once or twice. We never did anything with our arses. Then one day, Harry told me that what we were doing was sinful and forbidden and that we were no longer friends. That put an end to anything sexual except my hand... It's true, I do like to put my finger up my hole, but until we... until you and I..."

Interrupting, Ian asked, "Can we fuck? I mean, can we make love to each other with tenderness, like when we suck each other? You know, go all the way together. I don't mean like the porn on the internet. I don't want you to tie me down or piss on me or stuff like that. I want you to love me with all your body and soul... all the way... Can we do that? You in me; me in you..."

Zahri nodded, whispering, "We can try."

Ian fetched the oil and a big bath towel. He put the oil on the nightstand and spread the towel on the bed. They pulled off their t-shirts and dropped their boxers. Ian reclined on the towel. Zahri knelt between Ian's legs and pulled them over his shoulders. Then he kneaded Ian's buttocks, spreading them, coaxing the anus to open. Instinct led him to plunge his face into the cleft and lick the quivering hole. With closed eyes, Ian revelled as the sensations slowly made his entire body tingle.

Zahri's tongue worked wonders. Ian hummed, moaned, whimpered. Zahri slathered his middle finger with saliva and inserted it slowly inside Ian massaging his prostate. Ian moaned a bit more as Zahri inserted two fingers.

Stroking his drooling cock with oil Zahri nudged the tip into Ian's anus. Ian arched up, greeting Zahri's entry. Suddenly, Ian gasped as Zahri's eager glans popped in. Leaning over, Zahri kissed Ian's neck, holding him tight, as the shaft sunk inside. Ian pulled Zahri deeper inside, seizing him with his long legs.

The intimate muscles of Ian's hole squeezed Zahri's throbbing cock. Zahri pushed a bit, then pulled back to push again. Both began to sweat as they moved ever so gently. Their breathing deepened, became ragged. Zahri suddenly tensed, moaned, then convulsed, spewing his semen as deep as possible into Ian's quaking body.

"I'm sorry, Ian... I couldn't help it. I lost control. I love you so much, so very much!"

"Don't move. Just stay there in me. Let your cock rest a while, nice and warm in it's snug new home. I love you, Zahri!"

They didn't stay like that much longer. Zahri pulled out and surrendered to Ian. They cuddled a moment. Following Zahri's example, Ian enjoyed opening Zahri with his tongue, his fingers, then his slender cock. Zahri again lost control. He pushed back, grinding his rump, absorbing Ian deeper and deeper inside him. Ian's motion was instinctive. Gracefully undulating, never pounding, he lost himself in Zahri. His lithe cock danced inside Zahri's quivering flesh. Little by little the inevitable climax began its ascension. Ian felt like he was on the verge of oblivion as he tensed, screamed, and shoved his perfect cock spewing blasts of sperm deep into Zahri ejaculating body.

Later, slowly returning to earth, they just laid there side by side, glowing.

Zahri and Ian returned to the shower. Under the flowing water, Zahri stated, "I guess we're both tops and bottoms."

Ian replied, shampooing his hair, "I felt a bit wilder in you but when you were moving inside me, I felt like I was having a strange kind of orgasm, no juice, just bliss. I don't yet understand... I guess time will tell. I love both! And you?"

"You drive me wild both ways, Ian! I think it's useless to decide."

"Wild, wild like the wind... Pure... That's it! Pure as our love..." sang Ian, grabbing Zahri under the shower, with shampoo suds streaming over both their gleaming bodies.

Towelling each other, Zahri stated, "I'm inviting us out to dinner... nothing fancy, just a good fish and chips."

"I know a great place on Grassmarket. And after dinner, we can..."

"Fuck like maniacs!"

"Of course, but remember we'll rub each other with oil another time..."

Monday morning, Zahri slipped out of bed. It was seven-thirty. He had to leave in order to stop by his flat-share, change, and be at work on time.

Ian yawned, holding out his arms. Zahri leaned over and kissed him, saying, "Stay in bed! Don't bother to make breakfast for me, love. I'll grab something at the cafeteria."

"Can you find out today when you can move in?"

"I hope so. I'll ask and if my boss gives me the afternoon off tomorrow, I'll pack, turn in my key, and call a taxi. I should be able to arrive here, let's say between five and six. Is that okay with you?

"Perfect! I'll have dinner ready. Call me just before you get here so I can meet you down at the taxi and help carry your stuff upstairs," replied Ian, sitting up.

"Royal!"

"I'm missing you already, Zahri..."

They kissed again. Zahri left. When the door closed, Ian sighed, stretched, and looked at the orchids, fondling his spent balls. Lazily, he dragged himself out of bed, mumbling, "Ah, love! love, love..."

Then as he stood, he shouted, "Yes it's really love! Hallelujah!"

Before leaving for class, Ian rang up Jessica.

"I don't believe it!" yelped Jessica, hearing about Zahri moving in.

"Yes, we are lovers, Jessica, but I won't go into details. That's boy-business!"

"You must invite me and Susan to meet him AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. Understand?"

"Understood..."

Everything went as planned. Zahri said it was great to tell his flatmates that he was moving in with his lover.

"When I told them, 'He lives in the heart of downtown...' they screamed, 'Did you say HE?' and I said, 'That's what I said, HE.' And they screamed again, 'So you're a flamer, a poofter, a dirty buftie, good riddance!' and I laughed and slammed the door."

"And did you tell your employers about us being lovers?"

"No, I just said I was moving in with my best mate and they gave me the day off tomorrow to unpack and settle in... Now I think we have something important to do before dinner, don't you?" stated Zahri, unbuttoning Ian's shirt.

"I've only got two classes tomorrow afternoon. You can take your time to unpack and make yourself at home," replied Ian, unbuckling Zahri's jeans.

Jessica and Susan were charmed by Zahri. Ian told his parents that he was going to move in with a flatmate after graduation in July and that he had a job as a guide waiting for him. They approved. No questions, no lies. Zahri and Ian took a weekend off to go tell the Khan family that they were going to rent a flat. The evening was cordial. Nothing more.

They found a nice converted garage on Circus Lane. It was rather expensive, but they were able to afford it. There was a spacious ground floor with a lovely fire place, kitchen and full bathroom, a walk-in pantry and closet space galore. In the back there was a small forgotten garden. Zahri made it into a glass veranda for orchids. They bought a king size bed for the mezzanine and placed it under a nice sky-window. During the fall and winter 2019-20 they worked, loved, and lived a wonderful life.

With Zahri's guidance, in their small winter garden, Ian cultivated the spare root tubers of several very rare orchids Zahri brought home. The fantastic orchids prospered in all their glory!

These orchids were a blessing for Ian when the Covid lockdown was proclaimed at the end of March. Zahri's job was unaffected, however Ian was out of work. With the crisis, there were no more tourist, so Ian offered to sell his rare orchids to the better florists in New Town, asking an extravagantly high price. They were immediately sold as fast as they bloomed!

Time passed. The world seemed to be going mad. Zahri and Ian lived among their orchids, deeper in love every day.

Oh, by the way, here's something funny Ian found while studying orchids on the internet: The word Orchid is derived from the Greek word όρχις (órchis), simply meaning testicle! He then remembered that Zahri meant 'beautiful, fresh as a flower', and so he looked up the meaning of his own name. He read that Ian (John in English) meant 'graced by God'.

A free picture album accompanying this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@gmail.com with the mention: orchids.