Date: Sun, 8 Apr 2018 22:51:28 +0200 (CEST)
From: john.matthews@tutanota.com
Subject: The Apennine Boys' School Part 21

The School - Part 21

Our first stop was Monaco. We then moved on to Marseilles, then Calvi and
Valetta.  At each stopover we were met by representatives, all ex-students,
of The School. We were certainly treated like royalty. Invariably there
would be a large house, very private, where Bill, Bran and I would be
entertained. The kids, under the charge of Chayd, would romp in the
spacious grounds. It was not all play. There were excursions, lessons,
consisting mainly of language and history. From Malta, we took the longest
leg of the trip to Alexandria.

At Alexandria we were given a tour of this sprawling metropolis. We visited
a couple of museums and towards evening we headed off to Cairo, a trip of
about three hours. That night, we stayed at the luxurious mansion of a man
by the name of Sayyid. We were warmly greeted by Sayyid and we were ushered
into an enormous guesthouse. Servants showed us the bathing and sleeping
facilities. There had to be about 30 separate bedrooms, all with cushions
stewn over the floors and a low, kingsize bed in each room. We were of
course, shoeless. The custom was to leave our shoes at the entrance so we
would not scuff the beautiful carpets. We could take our ease on the
multitude of soft floor furnishings. We were all a bit overawed at the
opulence.

The bath room was of the oriental variety. There was a steam room where we
could sweat, lying on benches, wash off the dirt and sweat some more and
then plunge into our choice of a hot or cold pool. The kids were very quick
to clean up and take advantage of the pools, but we older ones took
advantage of the warm steam. After a few minutes of lying face down on a
bench and luxuriating in the warmth, I heard a whisper in my ear and saw a
very beautiful teenage lad. I really only saw his face through my half
closed eyes.

"Would you like a massage,sir?" he softly asked.

I was hard pushed to think of anything I would have liked better at the
moment, so I whispered back a "Yes please".

I felt his hands start on my back. He was using an aromatic oil. It didn't
have too strong an odour, but had the subtle effect of making me quite
drowsy. His hands worked a magic on my tired muscles. His hands slipped
down further and further until he reached my waist. He then started on my
feet and legs. It was extremely sensual and relaxing. When he reached the
top of my legs he hesitated. He asked if he should continue. I hissed
assent. He started massaging my arse and it was wonderful. He ran his hand
down my crack and I opened my legs for him to get in deeper. He did and
produced wonderful sensations for me. He asked if I would turn over so he
could do my front. I complied. For the first time I really had a good look
at him. He really was a picture. He had a very soft but masculine face,
improved by large brown-black eyes. He had on a very thin, cheese-cloth
like djallabia. His skin was brown, like a very good tan, and his darker
tits were plainly visible under the thin cloth. His skin had a sheen of
sweat, I presumed from the steam room and the effort he was putting into
his massage. I reached up and touched his face. I wiped the sweat from his
forehead with a finger and then licked it off. He smiled at me. His teeth
were perfect.

He was standing very close to the bench on which I was lying, so I couldn't
properly see all his assets. I made a mental note I would like to.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Mehdi, sir," was his reply.

"You are a very good masseur, Mehdi. Where did you learn?"

"Thank you sir. Mr Sayyid had me taught when he found me."

"What do you mean when he found you?"

"Mr Sayyid runs a boys home for unwanted kids. My father was a Muslim and
my mother was a Copt. She died just after I was born. My father's family
wouldn't have me as they are Iranis and he went back home, and my mother's
family didn't want me because I wasn't a full Copt. They looked after me
for a few years until I was about 5. Apparently there was a big problem
with the harvest, and they couldn't afford me anymore. My birth had been
registered, so I couldn't just 'disappear', so they left me on Mr Sayyid's
doorstep. His son, Sajid, found me the next morning. They had tied me by my
leg on a rope leash so I wouldn't wander away. They left my papers and said
they didn't want me. And that's how I'm here. I am still studying, but I
also learned how to massage."

"Well you do it very well, Mehdi. Very well indeed."

During his recital he had massaged my face and chest, and had now moved to
my abdomen.

"How old are you, Mehdi?"

"I am almost fourteen, sir."

"Please call me Drake and not sir."

"Yes, sssi... Drake. Do you wish me continue further?" He had reached my
pubic bush.

"Before you do, please finish your story."

"Well when Sajid found me, he hugged me. He called for his dad, and some
servants came running. He ordered them to get his dad. Mr Sayyid
arrived. He untied me and read the note. Sajid was still hugging me. He was
eight and I was five. I had never been hugged like that before. I fell in
love with Sajid straight away. I can remember that day perfectly. Sajid
bathed me. Sajid fed me. Sajid put me to bed. After I slept a bit, Sajid
came into bed with me and I had my first sex. He played with me a bit and
kissed and cuddled me. He then sucked my prick and taught me how to suck
his. I would have killed anyone who would want to hurt Sajid.

Sajid begged his father to let me stay with him, rather than in the boys'
home, and his father agreed.  He had me enrolled in school and that's where
I learned English. After school I learned massage because I like it. I have
one god, and that is Sajid."

Sajid was a student at The School. He was a very pleasant amiable young
guy. He was Year 11 and I guess about 17 years old. He was in one of the
swimming squads I coached (no thanks to Leo). However, on one occasion,
after a coaching session I had cause to speak with Sajid about something to
do with his technique. He rather saucily replied that his swimming
technique was not real good, but his bedroom technique was excellent. He
straightway asked me if I wanted to test it out, and I straightway answered
in the affirmative. We tumbled on the coaches' bunk in the gym, and before
I knew it I was naked and so was he. He seemed to be in perfect control of
his body. He used every part of it as some kind of sexual organ. From his
toes to his eyelashes. His cock was a magic wand and his small trimmed bush
was used as the most intriguing titillator. He seemed ready to penetrate me
and had me totally on the edge waiting for it. He then performed some sort
of backflip and I was in him. I don't to this day, know how he did it, but
he did. His hands and his thighs played me like a muse on a lyre (or
whatever muses play) and he took me to the Moon and back. It was a virtuoso
performance of sexual technique. I was played out. After my orgasm and
languor was setting in, he gently turned me over and entered me. His cock
had an upward curve which did things inside me I still can't describe. I
felt his orgasm in me, and it felt like gallons.

When he had finished he asked if he had passed the sexual technique test. I
breathlessly agreed he was easily a high distinction student. However, by
this time I had gotten my breath back and told him he still needed to work
on his breathing technique in the pool. He gave a bit of a fake moan, and
laughed.

We had had a great fuck. There was no doubt about that. However, there was
a slight sense of reserve in our play. I knew what it was, because I have
the same when I am with someone for the sex itself.

"You're in love, aren't you Sajid?"

"You know this, Drake?" he'd replied.

"Yes, of course... That was a colossal fuck, but I knew you were in love
with someone else."

"Well yeah... there's a guy back home. I've loved him since I found him. I
think we'll be together forever... if he wants, that is."

I was now pretty certain that Mehdi was Sajid's love.

My thoughts returned to the present. Medi was about to masage my dick,
which was really quite ready for a massage.

I had to ask. "Mehdi, are you sure you want to go this far with your
massage?"

"Of course, Drake. Sajid rang me and asked if I would treat you as I would
treat him. I asked Mr Sayyid if I could be your personal servant when you
are here. He of course agreed, because Sajid had asked it. Sajid thinks you
are the greatest teacher in the world, and I think he loves you very
much. He wants me to give you everything I can."

I was a bit surprised at this little speech. I sat up on my bench and
cupped Mehdi's chin in my hand.

"Sajid might like me, Mehdi, but I know... I know without a doubt in my
mind... I seriously KNOW, that he is deeply and passionately in love with
you."

Tears welled up in the young teen's eyes. I pulled him forward and kissed
them away. We hugged.

"Thank you for telling me that. I love him so much I could die."

"Well please don't die on me. Sajid would never forgive me."

Mehdi giggled.

He went back to work on my cock.  I was feeling rather good.  His tongue
slipped around my glans and did some rather intricate moves.  I felt even
better.  I reached down to feel his dick and it was straight and hard.  Not
real big, but seriously hard.  I did a bit of mental arithmetic and
realised that Mehdi was only 14.  Well it doesn't sound hard to take 3 from
17, but believe me, it felt like I was doing differential calculus in my
head.  I was very distracted by Mehdi.

A young man in servant type attire interrupted us.

"Excuse me, sir, but Mr Sayyid sends his apologies for interrupting your
bath but requests that you join him as soon as possible.  He says that the
matter is urgent."

I sighed.  Mehdi sighed.  Mehdi stopped his ministrations, and wiped me
over with a towel.

"Please tell Mr Sayyid I will be with him in a few moments."

The lad left.  He gave us a lingering look on his way.

Mehdi took my hand and led me to the hot pool.

"If you just have a quick plunge in there, Drake, the last of the oil will
come off. You will feel quite good.  Then you can dress and go to Mr
Sayyid.  It must be important, Mr Sayyid would never interrupt a bath if
possible.  Not even the kids'," he added.

I did as I was told.  When I got out of the steaming water, Mehdi rubbed me
down again with an aromatic towel.  I felt great, but still horny.  Mehdi
touched me gently on the half hard I still had, and remarked we could
finish later.  I smiled.

I thought it would be nice to have him in my bed that night.

Mehdi helped me dress in local clothing in a dressing room.  I felt great
and smelled faintly of cedar.  It was not at all unpleasant.

He led me to a spacious verandah through the maze of the house.  When we
arrived Sayyid was reclining on cushions, as was another trim, good looking
guy in what appeared to be a police uniform.  Mehdi left us.

Introductions were made, and I discovered that Commissioner Latif was the
head of police in the city.  Room was made for me and I too reclined.  Some
pleasantries passed between us all, as was the arab custom and then we got
down to business.

Latif was a very good friend of Sayyid's boys' home.  Occasionally he would
bring an orphan lad to be cared for and trained.  He was totally aware of
the training, and sometimes participated with one or more lads in the more
physical side of things.  He had been a friend of Sayyid from practically
infancy and was a frequent overnight guest.  At this both men smiled.

However, Commissioner Latif was faced with a problem.  He had a lad of
about twelve or thirteen.  The kid had been orphaned when a ferry had
capsized a week or so before.  His parents had been lost and he had nowhere
to go. No other family and no-one to take him in.  He came from the most
dirt poor background and all his family did was beg.  He was caught
stealing some food and had been beaten by the stall owner.  This was where
the police came in.  He had been taken to hospital and patched up.
However, the hospital refused to send him back on the streets and called
the police.  He was put into the too hard basket for a couple of days, but
while he was in the cells, he at least was fed.  This came to the attention
of the Commissioner, who took it upon himself to try and find the boy a
home.  He couldn't.  So in desparation he was in contact with Sayyid to see
if the lad could stay with him.  The problem was that the lad was about
twice the normal age that kids went to stay at the home.  Would he fit in?

I asked Sayyid if there was anything I could do to help.  It came as no
surprise when he told me he had rung Sean and Sean had told him that if
anyone could tame the kid, I could.  Oh yes, Latif also told me that he was
something of a scratcher and biter.

I thought, "Here we go again."  I thought of Khalid and Adamo.

"What were you thinking of, Drake?" asked Sayyid.

I must have had a look of some sort on my face.  I just answered
straightforwardly.  "Oh, just two little friends I have."

"Aha," smiled Sayyid, "Khalid and Adamo."

"Well yes, as a matter of fact.  How did you know?"

"Sean and I are very close.  And surely you know that we are a very small
and very clandestine closed community with no secrets at all from each
other." Sayyid spoke Italian and Latif knew we were purposely being
secretive. He had some idea, but not a lot, about The School.

Well I did know that, it's true.  But I hadn't thought too much about it.
I did know as well that anything I asked was always answered promptly and
truthfully.  Such replies assumed secrecy and total confidentiality.

"OK, where is this tiger now?" I asked.  "And how old is he?"

"We think he's about twelve or thirteen.  We're not sure.  The neighbours
thought that, anyhow.  He's been circumcised, so he must be more than ten."

I looked at Latif astonished.

"Oh sorry.  People in that community circumcise their kids when the are
about nine or ten.  No later."

"Oh," was all I could say.  I had never thought about circumcision to
determine someone's age.

"OK then.  What's his name?"

"Hassan."

"Where is he now?"

"He's getting cleaned up.  One of the servants has taken him to the boys'
bath.  He shouldn't be too long."

In fact he appeared almost immediately.  He looked about 10 or 11.  He was
quite scrawny, but the lovely white djellaba which he had obviously been
given, set off his features and light brown colour beautifully.  He was
being towed along by a servant who did not look any too pleased.

A torent of Arabic came from the servant.  I gathered, though I speak no
Arabic, that bathtime for little Hassan was not a pleasant experience for
the servant.

Sayyid looked suitably cross at Hassan and then laughed.  There was a
sparkle of mischief in the little fellow's eyes and the faintest hint of a
smile.  He looked at me and I smiled.  He smiled back and I laughed.  He
laughed too.  I beckoned him over to me.  The servant hadn't noticed our
interchange as he was still venting his outrage to Sayyid.  Hassan
struggled to get his hand away from the servant who held on tighter.  As
quick as a flash, fangs went into the servant's hands.  He gave howl of
pain, let go of the kid and before he could swat Hassan behind the head,
the little chap was in my lap.

It looked like round 2 to Hassan.

My arms automatically went round the scrawny torso, and he nestled in.  He
was very calm and strangely, almost immediately, fell asleep.  Sayyid
dismissed the servant, and while doing so thanked him very nicely for what
he had done and what he had to put up with and so forth.  The servant left,
somewhat mollified.  He gave me a sort of quizzical half smile.  I raised
my eyebrows (still hadn't got the hang of one) and gently shrugged.  He
laughed, looked at the sleeping tiger, rolled his eyes heavenwards and
wandered off.

"Looks like you've not only tamed a tiger, but you've tamed Tamar as well,"
chuckled Sayyid.  Latif smiled along with him.

"Sorry, I don't understand..."

"Tamar, as in the king who is called in English Tamerlane, and we call
Timarling, is the name of the servant."  Sayyid smiled.

I understood.

"Well, I'm not sure what I am meant to do with this bundle here, but I
think I might just lie here and hold him for a bit."

"Yes," said Sayyid.  "You will have total privacy here in a moment.  We'll
leave you now, as Latif and I have some personal business to take care of."
He reached over and touched Latif's hand in an intimate way.  Latif
intertwined his fingers with Sayyid's.  "Mehdi will be nearby.  Just call
him if you need him.  Thank you, my friend."

The man left us and there was a rush of Arabic from inside.  Very quickly
and very silently a screen was placed around us. Hassan, still sleeping,
and I were in our own little room on the cool verandah.  Mehdi stuck his
head in and said he was just sitting outside and we would not be disturbed.
I made myself very comfortable on the pillows.  Hassan adjusted himself to
me.  I kept my arms around him and drifted off myself.

I awoke with a start.  I felt myself being watched.  Two black orbs were
staring at me in what was now the dim light of late afternoon.  My arms
were still around Hassan, but in our sleep he had somehow rolled on top of
me.  He was really a featherweight.  I kissed him suddenly on the nose and
he giggled.  I heard a faint rustle outside and knew Mehdi was still there.
I whispered to the boy.

"Hassan."

He nodded.  I pointed to myself.

"Drake."

He repeated, "Drek."

I kissed him on the nose again and surprisingly, he kissed me back on my
nose.  We both giggled.

I held him tight, and quietly called Mehdi.  Mehdi immediately stuck his
head in and I could feel Hassan go tense.  I gentled him and rested my hand
on his backside.  He didn't seem to mind.

"What's Arabic for food?"

"Ta'am," he replied.

I said this to Hassan.  I was answered with a torrent of soft Arabic.  I
looked at Mehdi for help.

Mehdi interpreted.  "He said, 'Yes please'."

I thought he had said a lot more than that, but I let it go for the moment.

Mehdi disappeared and returned.

In what appeared to be seconds, our little den was invaded by servants
carrying a number of hot plates of some sort of sweet rice and meat, as
well as fruit.

There was water, juice and milk to drink.  There was beer as well.  It was
a real feast.  Hassan just seemed to cringe into me while this was
happening.

I waved the servants away and told Mehdi to sit with us.  Hassan looked at
him suspiciously.

I indicated to Hassan he should eat.  He didn't.  I picked a little of the
rice in my fingers and put it to his mouth.  He slowly and delicately took
it from my fingers with his lips.  He smiled.  I smiled.  I took some more
and repeated the operation.  He pushed my hand gently towards my mouth.  I
thought we might have something happening here.  I ate my portion. I fed
him again.  Then took some for myself.  We had a rhythm happening.  I
encouraged him to drink some juice, which he did.  After a little while of
more eating and drinking, he settled back in my arms and went to sleep
again.

Mehdi had been quietly eating away.  He looked at me every now and then and
smiled.  When Hassan appeared to be sound asleep, I asked Mehdi what Hassan
had really said previously.

Mehdi replied, "The little boy said, 'I am really hungry, and were you his
new father'."

"What did you tell him?" I replied.

"I told him 'maybe,' and left it at that."

I thought it was time to put him to bed and told Mehdi so.

"Where will he sleep?" asked Mehdi.

"With me, I guess."

Mehdi looked disappointed.

"I think there is plenty of room for the three of us."

At this remark, Mehdi smiled.

"We had better get him to the toilet first."

Mehdi agreed and we wandered off to my bedroom. Hassan was fast asleep in
my arms, his head draped over my shoulder.  We went into the toilet and I
put a half asleep little boy on his feet.  I fished around for his dick to
point it at the loo, and found the little spike by undoing his cotton arab
trousers he had on under his djellaba.

I pulled his djellaba up as his trousers dropped to the floor.  I took his
little cut cock and pointed.  Nature took over and he peed a fine stream.
When he was finished, I shook him off and he stiffened a little.

We went into my bedroom, and laid out very nicely was a small half djellaba
of sheer silk.

"That's for him to sleep in," advised Mehdi.

By this time Hassan was half-awake.  I started gently talking to him.  I
slipped his cotton robe off him and he stood, a bit unsteadily, naked in
front of me, still half-asleep.  He really was lovely, but quite skinny.

Mehdi looked at him approvingly.  "He really is lovely, isn't he?"

"Yes he is...  But I'm not sure what to do with him."

"Put on his sleep shirt and put him to bed might be a start."

I chuckled.  "Mehdi, you are so right."

I did just that.  However, I did take the opportunity to feel his little
backside.  It was the only plump thing about him.  I thought it was very
soft and cushiony.

I layed the little fellow down on the huge 'bed' and he nestled into the
softness.  He was fully asleep in seconds.  I looked at Mehdi who shrugged.

"You and me, now Mehdi."

"Yes," he sighed.  "You and me."

Well, we did.  He was perfect. I fit in him like a glove.  I came torrents.
His arse moulded itself to my cock, and he used his internal muscles to
perfection.  His kisses were light then passionate, then light again.  He
was truly enjoying as was I.  He totally gave himself and I could feel it.
He didn't want to be top, and I let him have his way.  I felt I needed a
good rogering, but I gave one.  His cries went directly to my core urging
me on further.  When he blew, he blew torrents.  He used his muscles during
his orgasm to milk mine out of me.  It was wonderful and we sank down next
each other in total wiped out bliss.  I don't compare one out-of-family
lover with another, but this boy was good.

After a short rest, I felt myself hardening again.  I just gently entered
him and lay there.  I moved every now and then to keep the friction up, but
his internal muscles seemed to be doing a rather lovely ripple on mini-me.
I became aware of something like a papoose on my back.  Hassan had woken up
and was observing Mehdi and me cuddle with each other.

He took the hand which wasn't under Mehdi and put it on his thigh.  I
squeezed a little and he very softly giggled.

Mehdi disengaged himself and turned to face me.  His substantial prong
poked mine.  It was a great feeling.  I have always loved the feeling of
glans rubbing glans.

By this time, Hassan had manoeurvred himself onto my thigh.  His nightshirt
had ridden up high, and he was almost naked.  He said something in Arabic.

Mehdi interpreted. "He wants to know what we were doing. He also wants to
know if he can take his shirt off."

"Tell Hassan he can take his shirt off.  Tell him also we were having fun
and becoming very close friends."

Hassan listened attentively to Mehdi then asked something.

"He wants to know can you and he become very close friends like that."

"Tell him that would be wonderful.  But tell him also he is very young and
small and it would hurt at first.  Tell him I would have touch him
everywhere and he would have to do the same.  Tell him it's called making
love."

Mehdi interpreted as I spoke.  Hassan payed close attention.

"Hassan says that he would like to kiss you and for you to do what you must
to make him your boy."

"I would very much like Hassan to kiss me.  We will then see where it
goes."

Hassan scooted between Mehdi and me.  He was on my chest and his lips sunk
down onto mine.  He kissed me like there was no tomorrow.  Being
particularly oral this was a huge turn-on for me.  I reciprocated with
tongue.  He caught on very quickly.  I ran my hand over his bum and I could
feel his spike harden.  Whoa, I felt grand.  I heard Mehdi whisper
something in Arabic and the little panther turned around and kissed my
hardon.  He used tongue.

I had to ask myself where he had learned that.  He wiggled his arse in
front of me and I spread his cheeks a little.  I couldn't see much in the
gloom, but I ran my finger down his crease and felt his little rosebud.  He
froze for a second, hissed something in Arabic, kept his legs spread and
turned to kiss me again.  The friction against my dick combined with his
kiss pulled the trigger.  Again I blew.  I could only yip in joy.

All good things must come to an end of course. So even must the bad things.
Our stay in Alexandria did in fact start to wind up, and Hassan knew what
was happening and that I had to go back to work in Italy and take my boys
with me.  He understood this but didn't want it.

I asked Sayyid if the little chap could be properly looked after and sent
to school and have what passed for an ordinary sort of childhood in
Alexandria.  Sayyid laughed, and told me he had already spoken with Sean,
knew what I was going to do, and was in the process of organising
everything.  Mehdi would become Hassan's big brother and I would have
another kid to look after.  I told Sayyid I would pay for everything, of
course.  Sayyid just laughed at me and told me to "Bugger off".  All would
be taken care of as a matter of course.

My latest addition to my collection of boys was reasonably happy with the
arrangement, but definitely not happy that I was leaving.  I made him
promise that he would mind Mehdi, not bite Timorling, that he would work
hard at school, and would learn English for when I came back in the school
holidays.  I told him he had two more brothers now and we would all come
and get together in the holidays.  As this was only a couple of months
away, he seemed content.

We left amid good fellowship and hugs.  Sayyid rather saucily suggested I
visit for a long weekend so he might get to know me better.  The visit had
been too short, etc etc, and I had been too taken up with Arab boys to
truly appreciate an Arab man and so forth.

I told this most attractive man I might just have to take him up on the
offer, and after a rather full-on hug, I embarked with my charges on the
school yacht, prepared to savour a bit of Greek.



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