Abduls' story
Part 1 - refugee in Addis Ababa
Abdul spent the next ten days recovering from the accident. Slowly his ribs healed, and by day ten he could lie on his side. God, how I loved it when I lay beside him, curled into him so that my cock nestled between his dark brown cheeks, and I could nibble his ear and lick his neck before we fell asleep.
I took some time off work to look after him, but mostly to get to know him better. How had he got to London? Why had he come? At first he didn't want to open up, but one evening -day nine I think - we had gone to bed early and he had wanted to fuck me. No, he gagged to fuck me and so, to protect his ribs, I insisted on riding him, clasping his dick with my arse muscles each time he pulled out, plunging down on his cock each time he fucked up. Poor guy, he seemed in agony as much as ecstasy, so I began to milk him with my arse muscles and he couldn't hold back. He muttered something in Somali, gripping my thighs, eyes tightly shut, and fired off inside me. Jesus, I hadn't enjoyed a fuck like that for months.
We lay together exhausted, and as I caressed him, in lazy post-orgasmic bliss, he finally opened up to me.
He and his cousin, Djalil, had been sent to stay with an Uncle, Mohamed, the youngest of Abdul's father's three brothers, in Ethiopia to escape the civil war in Somalia, when both boys were seventeen. Abdul knew he liked looking at men from going to the Hammam. Of course, as the men weren't naked, he had never seen a naked man apart from his cousin, who used to stay over sometimes and sleep in the same bed as Abdul. But all his cousin could talk about was girls, so Abdul never talked to him about what he liked.
He hadn't seen his Uncle Mohamed for some years - he was about 35 when he saw him again - and Abdul fell for him, heavily. Mohamed had beautiful dark eyes, shiny black hair and a light beard. He also had great charm and was a natural flirt. He smiled at Abdul often, put his arm around his shoulders, laughed at his attempts at jokes. Who couldn't love Mohamed? Well, Djalil for one, who thought his Uncle far too friendly and far too little interested in girls. Here he was, a reasonably successful businessman in Addis with no wife, and no inclination to find one.
Abdul didn't care, he just loved being with Mohamed. Before long, Djalil had got himself some sort of scholarship with the British Council to study in London, and he went, promising to send for Abdul as soon as he could. The first night he was alone with Mohamed, they had eaten and were watching TV together afterwards, lying on floor cushions. Mohamed's arm was around Abdul's shoulder and Abdul just leaned into him, nestling under his arm. Mohamed pulled him closer and their arms and thighs touched. Abdul had a raging erection that he was doing his best to hide, but he was wearing a loose gelabiyya that evening, a sort of Arab dress for men, with no pants, and his cock just tented it. He was dying from shame and lust.
At first Mohamed pretended not to notice, but then he smiled at Abdul and joked that he must be in real heat, as his erection had been there for at least 10 minutes. Abdul wanted to crawl under the cushions, but he looked very shame-faced at the floor and said nothing. Mohamed laughed and said it was nothing to be ashamed of - all men got erections. Look, he had one too. He cupped his pole in his jeans and smiled at Abdul.
He began to caress Abdul's ear and cheek and when Abdul sighed with satisfaction, Mohamed began to caress his leg with his other hand, slowly lifting the gelabiyya to expose Abdul's naked legs. He couldn't help himself - he wanted desperately for this to happen. He shyly caressed Mohamed's leg through his jeans. Mohamed went higher and soon all of Abdul's lower body was exposed. He lifted his bum so that the gelabiyya would slip past it and he took it off, so that he was naked on the cushions. At this point, Mohamed stood up and took of his jeans and pants, leaving him in just his T-shirt. He lay next to Abdul and leaned over and kissed him, running his hand up Abdul's thighs and stroking his balls. Abdul opened his legs wider to give him better access, and he grasped Abdul's cock and slowly began to slide his hand up and down it.
Of course, Abdul had wanked many times, but this was wild, fantastic, out of this world. By now Mohamed too was totally erect, so Abdul gingerly stroked it, his first feel of a real man. Mohamed gasped with pleasure, so Abdul went further, gripping it more tightly and spreading the pre-cum oozing out of the slit all around the dark, enflamed knob.
Suddenly Mohamed leaned over and took Abdul's cock in his mouth, sliding his lips up and down it, giving sensations like he had never experienced before. He lay back, glass-eyed, while Mohamed rolled his balls in his hand and sucked expertly on his cock. It didn't take long for Abdul to shoot a huge load into Mohamed's mouth, and the amazing thing was that he drank it all down.
When he had come down from his high, Abdul smiled at Mohamed and leaned over to lick his cock. He couldn't bring himself to take it in his mouth, but he licked up and down and liked the taste, especially of the clear liquid oozing from the slit. He began to gently wank Mohamed and soon he too shot all over his stomach, the white cream contrasting against the dark skin.
That night, and each night afterwards, he slept with Mohamed and most nights they would bring each other to blissful orgasm.
Then one day he got a call from Djalil to say that the British had approved Abdul's student visa and his father had sent the money for the fare. So Abdul would be going to London, after nearly a year in Addis. He was totally torn. He was desperate to go to London to see what the West had to offer, but he also adored his Uncle Mohamed.
That night, Mohamed said Abdul had to go, not just for his own good, but also because Abdul's father had found him a wife, and as the youngest brother and unmarried, he had to obey Abdul's father, the head of the family. He would no longer be able to sleep with Abdul in any event, once he was married. But that night he would give Abdul something he would never forget.
Abdul lay with Mohamed early that night, with a mix of sadness, expectation and fear. But soon Mohamed was kissing him all over, making him tingle with desire. He had rarely been so hard, but this time Mohamed ignored his cock. Instead, he turned Abdul onto his stomach on the cushions and shocked him by licking up his legs, forcing them apart, and digging his tongue deep into Abdul's arse. Abdul gasped with pleasure and opened his legs as far as he could. His Uncle dove deeper, nibbling his arse lips, kneading his arse cheeks, sending Abdul into delirium. Mohamed came up for air and Abdul felt the smell of sandalwood and patchouli as his Uncle massaged his arse with fragrant oil. Mohamed's hands worked their slippery way down Abdul's crack, into it, first one finger, then two, opening him up gently, probing his arse. Abdul had never felt so good. Mohamed then pulled out his fingers and slowly eased his engorged cock into Abdul. The initial pain soon wore off, and once he could feel Mohamed's cock-hair on his arse, he knew he was all in and he began to buck against him. Mohamed pulled out slowly and eased himself back in. He did this a few times, gradually picking up speed. He rested on Abdul's back, licking his ears, kissing his cheeks, gently pulling in and out. Abdul wanted more. He begged Mohamed to go harder, deeper.
Mohamed started to pile drive into Abdul, slapping against his arse, pining him to the cushions, biting his shoulder, and murmuring "I love you, Habibi (darling), I love you." Abdul had never experienced such ecstasy, and as his hard cock was rubbing against the cushions, he came in gushes long before Mohamed finally unloaded in Abdul's hot arse. Abdul knew then that he wanted more of this - as much as he could get. He had read that some Englishmen liked this type of sex too, and he was determined to find them, or at least one of them, in London.
Part 2 - immigration problems
Abdul had no problems getting into London. His cousin Djalil had indeed arranged everything, so Abdul had a language school lined up and he could stay with his cousin. Djalil had a tiny flat in south London, where lots of other immigrants lived. Abdul slept on the sofa, and Djalil made sure that nothing bad would happen to him. Much too sure - Djalil almost never let Abdul out of his sight and was always trying to find him a girlfriend. Djalil had gone along with his schemes, and even had a steady girl for about a year, although he never more than kissed her cheek.
All the time he was thinking about where he could meet an Englishman to replace his Uncle Mohamed. He was sure that sometimes men were looking at him with more than just curiosity, but he was always too shy to find out, and Englishmen were just so inscrutable. You never could tell what they wanted. His cousin told him people were very polite, and when they asked how you were, or invited you to tea, that didn't mean anything. It was a funny English way of saying hello.
Once in summer he had passed a bar with a rainbow flag outside, and several men looked at him as if they were really interested, but he didn't dare go in. He didn't drink alcohol as a good Muslim, so what would he do there? He spent his first four years in London like that, looking and longing, and wanking whenever Djalil was out, thinking about the men around him.
Then one day while he was at home there was a knock on the door and it was an official from the immigration service looking for Djalil. It seems his visa had run out some time ago and he had never renewed it. Abdul was very careful to renew his, but Djalil always said nobody in London cared about these things.
Abdul was now 24 and started to panic. Djalil had gone over to his girlfriend's house, and Abdul knew he would be there for at least a couple of hours. Djalil always boasted that he had sex with her for at least an hour, and then she would cook them a meal.
He asked what would happen to Djalil and the officer, a white guy who seemed to be in his early forties said that he could be arrested and even deported. That would be a disaster for Abdul, as Djalil rented the flat and Abdul didn't have a job. London was nothing if not expensive, and Djalil had supported him all the time he was there, with a little extra money sent by his Dad now and then.
The officer, who called himself Mick, said he would wait until Djalil returned, if Abdul didn't mind. Abdul asked if there was anything he could do to help Djalil, but Mick just laughed.
"Nice place you got here. Small but comfy." Mick said. "But its very hot too, do you mind if I take my jacket off?"
Abdul told him to make himself comfortable and made him some tea. There was only one sofa, so they sat together, and Abdul didn't know what to say. He suggested they put on the TV, and Mick said that was fine. The light was beginning to fade outside, so Abdul drew the curtains and switched on the TV.
Djalil had been watching a video when it was last on, and so the TV went straight into video mode. Abdul was mortified - Djalil had been watching a porn video, a bisexual video. Abdul went to switch it over to the TV, but Mick laughed and told him to leave it on.
The video showed this guy with just a towel on massaging a naked woman. His hand stroked her thighs and with each stroke his hand got closer to her cunt, until eventually he was rubbing that and she was moaning. Another bloke came into the massage room and began on the other leg and soon the two men, now both naked, were rubbing her and kissing each other.
This was clearly turning Mick on. He adjusted his trousers and began to rub his hardening cock. The video started to have an effect on Abdul too, despite his mortifying shame. How could Djalil have been so careless?
Mick looked at Abdul in the room, now dark but for the flickering light from the video, where one of the guys was now fucking the other, while the woman was giving him a blowjob.
"You really want to help your cousin?"
"Yes," said Abdul, "I'd do anything to help him out of this mess."
"OK", said Mick, " you be nice to me and I'll be nice to your cousin." With that, he took out a thick, 8-inch cock, and began to stroke himself. "You've got a very fuckable arse. You let me fuck you when I want, and Djalil won't hear another peep from us."
Abdul reflected for a minute. He owed Djalil everything. This Mick was overweight, and ugly, but if Abdul kept his eyes shut and thought of his Uncle Mohamed, he could just about do it. He stood up and dropped his trousers and pants, and went to the kitchen and got some cooking oil. He'd never heard of lube or KY then.
Mick stood up and got undressed. He had a big hairy belly and chest, but low slung balls and a big cock, bigger than Mohamed's. Abdul bent over the end of the sofa, with his bum in the air, and Mick smeared some oil over it with his stubby finger.
"Nice", he said, "very nice". He began to finger-fuck Abdul who, despite himself, began to get turned on. He was watching the video and now one of the men was fucking the girl, while she was rimming the man. Mick thrust his big dick into Abdul who yelped in pain. Mick laughed and said, "You'll get used to it, boy. Just relax and open up to Daddy".
Abdul breathed deeply and tried to think of Mohamed, but it wasn't the same. Nature came to the rescue and soon his primal urges took over. Mick really filled him and glided over his prostate each time he thrust forward. Abdul began to groan, this time with pleasure.
"Yeah, kid, you'll like big Daddy Mick. You won't get this from many men round here."
He picked up speed and slammed into Abdul, his eyes glued to the video where the men were taking turns to fuck the woman. As the second one pulled out and came on her, Abdul could feel Mick swell in him and cum in four or five jerks. Mick pulled out and wiped his cock on Abdul's T-shirt.
"Something to remember me by, kid" he smirked.
Abdul felt soiled, but also aroused, and ashamed, and relieved that it was over, but half wanting more.
"Here's my number, kid. Ring me next week when your cousin's out and I'll treat you to another round".
With that, Mick put on his uniform and left the flat. Abdul simply had to have a quick wank before Djalil returned, clenching his sphincter, feeling Mick's cum dribbling out, hating the thought of the next time, but also wanting it.
This "affair" with Mick went on for at least a year. Each time he brought round a bisex video and after a certain point, usually when one of the guys was fucking the other, he took off his clothes, got Abdul to strip, and then fucked him. The only good thing was that Mick brought lube with him and so Abdul didn't have to answer any embarrassing questions from Djalil about why they used up so much cooking oil.
When I asked him why he never told his cousin Djalil about this, Abdul said he didn't dare to. He probably wouldn't believe him, and if he did, he might kill Mick for abusing the family honour, and that would be even worse. Besides, although he didn't like Mick very much, after a while he even quite enjoyed getting fucked regularly by a thick cock.
"So how did it stop?" I asked him.
Well one day Djalil had a row with his girlfriend and she threw him out. He got back early to the flat and, not wanting to disturb Abdul, he quietly let himself in and saw Mick fucking Abdul while the video was playing. He quietly let himself out again, and waited outside until Mick left. He then came back in a towering rage, called Abdul every insult possible and started to beat him up. Abdul tried to explain, but Djalil wouldn't listen. The next day he threw Abdul out. He knew he couldn't go to Mick, as he was married and had a couple of kids. So he went to the Somali social club where had got to know some people and one put him up for a while. He hadn't seen Djalil again since that day.
Eventually he found small jobs in the black, filling supermarket shelves, helping a removal firm, working on building sites, until he could afford his small room in south London.
He had never had another sexual relationship after Mick, although he had discovered that in the park near his room men went at night and had sex in the bushes, and a few times he's let himself be sucked off there. Each time he felt depressed and would stay away for weeks, but then the urge would be greater than he could bear, and he went back for more. And then he had seen me and dared to hope that this time his English prince had finally come.
I giggled at his romantic schmaltz, and my feelings for him grew in intensity. I kissed him passionately, our tongues crossing like swords, breathing his sensuous odour. I hadn't cum when he'd fucked me earlier, so now I was getting very hard and my balls started to churn. But I didn't want to rough fuck him. I wanted him to feel again what he felt with his Uncle Mohamed.
I turned him onto his stomach and crawled between his legs, pushing them apart. He knew what I wanted, and stretched as wide as he could, offering me the sight of his beautiful black hole. I licked up his thighs and brushed my tongue over his hole. He opened his arse lips and tried to grab my tongue with them, but I wouldn't let him. I slid it back and forth, up and down, nibbling his cheeks each time.
He was groaning into the pillow, thrusting his bum into my face each time I got near his hole. I plunged in and stuck in my tongue as far as I could, sucking at the same time, causing him to grunt and moan with bliss.
"Fuck me, Joe, fuck me," he pleaded.
I slid up his back until my cock brushed his hole and rubbed it backwards and forwards while he bent and thrust his bum up to try to catch it. I laughed into his ear, and forced his bum down onto the bed. Reaching for the lube, I smeared some on my cock, and more into his hole. He gasped with the cold, but still thrust back. Now I put my cock in, plunging as deep as I could, and holding myself in him, while my whole body covered his.
He started to push back against me, forcing me up, and then he lowered himself onto the bed, so I had to thrust forward to keep inside him. He wanted me bad, and I wanted him worse. So I began a slow, steady fuck, while he pushed back in rhythm. All the time our upper bodies stayed joined, my hands gripped his, and I kissed him all over - his ears, his neck, his hair, his mouth. God, could there be anything better than this?
My arse slapped his, the lube sticking us together again each time after we pulled apart. He twisted his bum to get that deep fuck feeling, and I tried my best to delay cumming and keep him writhing in ecstasy. But then he clamped down on my cock with his arse and began to milk me. My balls were burning and my cock was swollen to the limit, so I just couldn't hold back any more. I flooded his arse with my cum, and I felt him pumping the mattress and cumming too. I rolled off him with a sigh, onto my back, and he turned and climbed onto my front. He pinned my arms and legs down, grinding his cummy cock into mine. Looking deep into my eyes, he smiled and kissed me.
"You're worth every broken bone, Joe."