Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2010 01:35:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Aihu Fist Subject: Baksheesh in Casablanca part 2 Bakshees in Casablanca By Aihu Fist Part 2 -I'll prove to you that we are all friends and that we should all help each other when we most need it. Just look and be quiet, there is a lesson to be learned here. He slipped through the doorway and closed the door behind me. -Toi la, oui, toi dans le coin viens ici toute de suite (you there, in the corner, come over here on the double). Fast! He spoke in Berber. They were all Berbers, including the warden. -Who am I? He barked in French to a boy, who couldn't have been older than fifteen. However, he pair of strong arms, a fine built, and a toned body. He was tall for his age and I wondered if it was him who could have raped me. The warden held up a lighter and held the flame in front of the boy's face., and repeated. -So, who am I? -You are my friend, sir. -That's right, and now I need some help from you. But, it has to be done extremely fast and diligently because they are waiting for this roumi youth in the chief's office. The other boys snickered behind his back; their faces barely visible. -Yes sir, the boy quipped. He got on his knees and unbuttoned the man's fly. Out came a large dark brown circumcised cock. It was half hard. The boy took it in his mouth and began to blow him. He did it fast and professionally, no protests. The man shuddered, ejaculated precociously and copiously into the boy's willing mouth. As he withdrew he shook his ugly penis and asked the boy to lick it clean. -That's it. Choukran (thanks). That's what friends are for. If you want me to treat you well in the coming days-and you will be here for a long time-you pay me a little bakshees in nature and I see what I can do. -Yes, sir, the boy answered and disappeared into his dark corner behind the other boys. -Time to go roumi. We went upstairs, back to where I had sat in the morning. I looked into the eyes of another police chief's face. I was reassured and somewhat proud to see the Belgian consul, who had a taken the seat next to me. Before I could even utter a word, the chief ranted in an authoritative voice, claiming he was the connoisseur of Europeans. -They all came to Morocco for drugs, he assured the consul, and he would prove I wasn't any different, he said. The consul tried to throw in a word on my behalf, but he was told to shut up. Literally, just like that. You have no experience, the chief said to him. I suggested that the consul could in form the chief about the upcoming elections in Belgium and that it was mandatory to vote; I could do it at the Embassy. Even that was of no avail. -No, the chief said, he has to leave Morocco. We will arrange a flight straight to Belgium. Now first I didn't want to go back that soon to Belgium and second there was no way I would let my mum pay for a repatriation journey. I had a luminous idea. -Look, I said, I have family in Spain; my passport can prove that as it was issued in Malaga. It seemed to impress the chief, but he remained as stoic and aggressive as ever. It was about 1 pm and the consul told me not to worry too much. I was taken back to my cell, at least I thought so. At the foot of the stairway I was in for another shock, a warden stood there with his belt and a few young teenage girls lying on the floor. He was whipping them, but stopped abruptly when he saw me. The warden who led me, urged me to move forward. The man with the whip winked at him and opened the last cell door in the corridor. I was going to have my own cell, I realized. Why, and for how long? -A tout a l'heure, the other warden said, and locked me up. The warden with the whip resumed his job, and for half an hour I heard the girls wailing. Then he left. Not a sound was heard anymore for maybe an hour. Perhaps they had gone to have lunch or so. I was hungry too and worried about my fate. I crouched and tried to forget where I was. That was not long before a heard the clonking of the keys, somebody opened up the door. I rose to my feet instinctively and stared into the light that entered my cell. The man with the whip stood there with a broad smile on his face. He looked real intense at me, a tall man in his thirties, well built and muscled. He took off his cap and threw it on the floor, his black hair tousled, and shiny with sweat. -You boy, will never see your country again, he spoke in French. -The consul will come and get me out of here, I retorted. -Wishful thinking, the chief decides and right now in Morocco we have many government problems. So many boys like you end up in our prisons because they have been naughty. How old are you' Eighteen (I looked way younger than my age and I was short, very short in comparison with him, it's in the family's genes)? I touched my upper lip unwittingly...hoping to find some hairs that would prove my manhood. -Yes, he said. -No mustache, and no beard. Roumis like you are very prized in this country, especially if their booty is worth looting. He crossed his arms and took a widespread stand, barring me from running anywhere. -I will scream if you touch me, I said. -Will you? There's no one here but me, and in an hour my colleague will take over from me. The chief has already decided what to do with you, and he doesn't really give a fuck about your little country. He laid his index finger over my upper lip and stroked the soft down above it. He continued with his back of his hand over my cheeks and then cupped my chin. -So sweet, a boy you are, he whispered. May your mother be blessed by the Almighty, for having conceived the likes of you. He turned his back to me, walked to the door and locked it. -Take off your clothes, he ordered. -No way, I said. -You know I have quite a say in some of the affairs in this house, including yours. The chief and I have a good understanding when it comes to rebel boys like you. Have you ever heard of paying baksheesh? -Hashish? -No baksheesh, he repeated and rubbed his thumb and index finger. -No, I said. -Well, baksheesh is what means mud in Arabic; we pay baksheesh for things to go faster or smoother. There is no shame in it; there are only the customs of our beloved country; everyone earns something and everyone is happy. -I have no money, and you know it, I retorted, picking up on his hinting at paying him for a service to get me out of here. -You have no money, but that's no problem, is it? A boy like you has other assets we highly appreciate here. I heard your cellmates were quite relieved with your baksheesh, didn't they? I let my head hang. He knew... -You understand what I am saying? I nodded. -At last. Now take those clothes off and let me have a good look at your family jewelry. I slowly kicked off my boots, rolled my jeans over my feet and peeled off my white briefs and my shirt. -What a boy, what a boy, he sighed as he moved toward me. I stood in the corner getting goose bumps allover when he felt me up. His hands cupped both my buttocks, squeezing them like dough. He was taking my bottom apart, stretching my cheeks. I really felt how my anus opened up. -Take my zob, he said. He guided my hand to his fly behind which a hard cock was poking; hoping to be released soon. He held my head between his rough hands and stuck his tongue in my ear, making me all wet there. -Sit on your knees and suck it hard, he hissed. The big head invaded my mouth with accelerating thrusts, I could barely cope with. -Faster, baby face. He must have been very randy because he couldn't wait to squirt his copious strings of semen on my body. -That will do for now. You'll wait here and don't you dare to get dressed, for I have another visitor for you. He left in a hurry looking at his watch. I was getting cold and put some of my clothes on, my short sleeved shirt and my briefs. Minutes seemed to last hours, I dozed off, but woke up brutally, when the cell door swung open again. It wasn't the man with the whip who came in, but the warden, who had brought me down to the cell. He was a very skinny one in his forties, with an unshaven face. His black eyes shone with lust. He banged the door behind him and said: -I come to collect my baksheesh for taking such good care of you. We all owe it to the boss for having boys like you to feast on. It keeps him and us happy here. He paced around and continued: -These are rough times for Morocco and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, little roumi. The Arabic phone goes fast here, as you may have guessed. So what can you do for me? -Nothing, I barked. I already paid my dues to your colleague. -That's too bad, because everyone here earns his baksheesh; do they call it a bribe in your country? I am only a little older than my colleague, but I have the cutest little zob that fancies a nice pair of milk white buns like yours, what do you reckon? He didn't take long before he fondled by my balls. -You are so gorgeous and Allah is my witness, if I knew that in paradise boys like you will await me, then I will visit Mecca a thousand times and do my penance. Why don't you enjoy your status of a prize animal, while you still can? Once you are over twenty-seven, nobody will want you anymore. You got the glow of a sex fiend. But, you're good at hiding it, aren't you? While saying all the words which he hoped would defrost me and make me crave him, he stripped the helmet of its robed. Dressed it and undressed it. He was good at this, I must admit, he did it tantalizingly slow, with broad signs of lechery on his face. Do you like it, baby? I couldn't say no, but I did anyway. I was tired and needed sleep after that hash trip. The residue of it was still sort of working on my head. He unbuckled his belt and pulled out a tiny cock; he gently squeezed it a couple of times making it grow instantly and then rubbed between my legs and tipped my arse hole briefly. I felt the warm sticky pre-cum leaking on my rosette. -I want your hole so much, be good and I will do a word for you, ok? I nodded once more and to make it easier on him and me, I relaxed and parted my buttocks for him to come inside. He had already moistened his penis and my arsehole. He smoothly made purchase of my rectum while licking and fondling my ears. Holding my hips, he moved to deeper waters and then came to a grinding halt. I felt the contractions in his thighs, announcing a first release, and while he came, he bit me passionately in my neck. That was a strange feeling. It made my rod turn harder. -I need you, oh I need you. I don't believe you'll be out soon here. You are one off, only once in a lifetime do we get youngsters in here. Your bottom makes me crazy. You are mine, only. Too bad I didn't get to pop your cherry. The motherfuckers in that cell will have to pay for that every day that I am on duty. Why didn't you scream, roumi? I would have saved you from their clutches. He was talking himself hard again, his little insignificant pecker was back between my buns, prodding, still drenched in spunk, inching forward, then out again and riding the smooth surface of my bottom. -It's time for me to go; put your knickers on, sweetheart. He gave me a quick kiss on my lips, zipped up and left. Had I turned into a prostitute now, had I become a whore, or had I accepted this assault because I had come to like it? My thoughts ran amok between guilt, shame and ecstasy. I hadn't realised he had actually gone away, until I heard the door bang. For any comments: Aihufist@yahoo.com