Date: Sun, 27 Jan 2002 12:25:36 +0600 (IST)
From: kushas@sify.com
Subject: Love Forever

Arsalan was not more than 16 years of age. A quiet and nice boy living in
my town.  He was someone I was particularly very fond of. Being a muslim
boy in a Hindu dominated area did not in any way make a difference to him
all the years he lived in this town, as life changed not so often for
people who accept the ways of life.

He was a tall, lanky, smart, brown skinned and bright-eyed boy who could
easily be classified as 'attractive'. Everything looked normal about him
apart from the fact, which was not very easily noticable, that he was more
attracted to men and that men found him charming and hot. He offered
himself quite easily to any advances and most often in the evenings nice
young men took him to parks or dark corners and derived pleasure even by
just giving him a wet kiss in the mouth. If went further than that and
groped between his thighs the bulging nine inch meat was only too
irrestible for anyone to want to see it in the open.

Arsalan was the favourite of some and the desire of many. He always went
out and found himself in the company of someone or the other and his
evenings would be spent.  He was a soft spoken boy always looking for some
nice person to talk him into bed. I have never heard of his refusing to go
with anyone as such a situation was impossible since he was always with
somebody or the other and none dared to approach him as propriety demanded.
It was understood by me only much later that most guys would fix up with
him over phone and they just met at a mutually decided safe place in the
evening.

I had the chance to meet and spend valuable time with Arsalan many times.
He was not one of those doll boys. He was ordinary but attractive.
Something about him that made everyone want him. I would quite often ask
him if he was ever interested in going with girls and he would just say no.

Arsalan loved sex or that is what most of us thought . He was a
professional in his attitude towards sex. He never demanded any money or
gifts but just ensured that anyone who he went with would have an
unforgettable time. He was quite adept and experienced. Something that
everyone felt nice about him was his attention to hygiene and a faint
perfume that lingered about him. He was someone who could be loved and
kissed and cared forever.

Arslan did not ever have any political opinions and even his religion was
incidental to him, and though he prayed and respected his beliefs, that
never prevented him from liking those people who he was even sure were
opposed to his faith.  His looks, his speech, his body and his interests
were his own and none could alter them for him for whatever reason.

It was the final year for him in school and with a board exam to face his
daily forays into the forbidden pleasures was restricted with only his self
imposed ban. Even when he decided that he was going to take a small break
till his exams were over, the time that he gave me remained unchanged. He
was fantastic. He woud come to in the afternoons missing classes in school.
We would directly go to my bed room and we would start kissing. I would get
hold of his throbbing cock from outside and make him slowly lay down.

He would look at me with his innocent and beady eyes and we would kiss once
again and then he would come to the part I loved the most. His hands would
quietly move towards my pants and in seconds my zipper would make way and
those nimble soft cool fingers of Arsalan would pull out my eager cock.
(This he has done a hundred times before. In parks in buses in the back
seats of movie theatre, on the terrace and wherever, whenever we both were
alone.) By then he would be sure how yearning I am down there. Arsalan
begins the course of pleasure. He sucks my cock like never before and cry
out my love for him. My seven inch cock would go all the way into his mouth
probably searching for the love in his heart.  I would swear my love and
ask for more all the while also asking how much he loved me and if he could
just tell me that he loved me enough. He always told me that he loved me
very much. Arsalan was never wrong.  He loved me and he loved others too.
But I just wanted to believe that Arsalan was mine. Sometimes many fellows
who could never go with him because of personal or other reasons would cry
like women just telling him how much they missed him. How lucky I was to
have him more often than others.

I always made him naked in the process of sex with him and his oversized
cock was as ever too much for my mouth and I almost always abandoned
sucking as soon as I started. We would kiss and I would climb over him and
rub my body in rhythm with his, say sweet nothings into his ears, kiss his
face and eyes and then shoot my juice all over his stomach. And one should
see his face then, the satisfaction of having satisfied somone.  And then
he would suck me once again for almost half an our till I came once again
in his mouth and my cock shrank to a quarter of its size. The session
always ended with a hearty laugh.

Arsalan was my friend and he was harmless. He had so much pleasure to offer
that may be over a hundred men must have derived exotic happiness with him.
He was the most undemanding boy. Always giving pleasure and never asking
for any specific initiative from anyone even if he felt so.  He never hated
anyone and loved everyone who genuinely loved him. Most of the men who were
married after having enough of him still lusted him whenever they had had
enough of their wives. Arsalan was available for the lucky and many men who
spoke to him also did so just to hear his sweet soothing voice.

Then one day things went wrong.  There was a flare up of communal tensions
in my city and Hindus and Muslims were at each other's throats.  Life went
haywire and inflammatory speeches made almost everyone of one community
hate anyone of the other community. When the news first came on TV we,
Arsalan and I both watched it together on my bedroom TV.  I was on top of
him and was kissing him. He just said Oh God! The riots were really bad in
his part of the town. For once we abandoned doing anything further and he
dressed up just by planting a wet kiss on my lips he went out. I just
watched him go. At a distance, before turning a corner he looked back and
waved at me. I just loved him very much as anyone else.

I could hear people shouting from far.  Since mine was predominently a
Hindu area and as I was a Hindu there was nothing for me to fear. Not
yet. I remained home the rest of the day and the night and masturbated
twice thinking of Arsalan and his smile.

The next morning, I woke up early and ran for the newspaper to read about
the events of the previous day and on the cover was Arsalan's picture. A
smiling Arsalan.  The heading screamed - Young boy shot dead by miscreants.
The news read, though not very clear to my wet eyes - Tuesday's bloody
riots claimed Arsalan a sixteen year old school boy as one of its first
victims. Arsalan was walking home when a rioting group stopped him near his
house and shot him. His parents ......

I still love Arsalan.