By Mr Malaprop
This is a piece of fiction, the characters and events depicted are purely the products of my imagination and no similarity is intended to any real events or persons. Any such similarity is completely coincidental.
Thanks to my friends HCFU (Freedom, Nick and Thorns) for their constant encouragement.
None of the above is responsible in any way for any imperfections in this story, that responsibility rests solely with me.
And finally: If you shouldn't, don't. If you don't like it, stop. If you want to flame me, you're wasting your time.
Comments and constructive criticism are welcome at:
Please do not send any attachments as I delete any such posts without opening them.
by Mr Malaprop
The main souk in any sizeable town that has one is a great attraction for tourists. They pass through this one in their hundreds and thousands, several coachloads a day during the season, cameras clicking away, buying shoddy stuff at ridiculous prices thinking they've got a bargain. Sometimes inappropriately clad women complain they've been harassed and sometimes a few pockets are picked, despite all the warnings the tour guides give out.
For a certain type of single man travelling alone things can be very different. Often he will be scantily clad, possibly more so than the women who complain so loudly. What he does wear is usually easy to shed and easy to don for if he's there to shed and don he almost certainly won't be disappointed.
Look at this one just approaching the main entrance - a long, loose thin cotton shirt held closed with just three large, easy to handle duffle style buttons and a pair of baggy but not long shorts. The fly, out of sight beneath the shirt, is open. It is a “blind” fly, the shorts have an elasticated waist, not even a drawstring. All as if designed, or at least bought, with fun times in mind. If we look closely we see his legs are shaved and switching to X-ray vision and we see that not only is his groin shaved as well but he is not wearing any underwear. He wears a pair of slip on sandals and that, as the poet said, is that! Stripped down for action seems an appropriate phrase. He is hoping to be more stripped down soon.
What has he got in the pockets of his cargo shorts? It looks as if the right pocket has a small cardboard pack in it, turn up the X-ray another notch and we see it is full of little foil packets all labelled “Durex Ultra Strong Condoms” - it's good to see he takes his health seriously. His left pocket holds a travel pack of paper tissues and a tube of some sort of jelly stuff, what does it say? Ah yes, we can just make out the letters “KY”.
It looks like he's planning a busy afternoon. Note that he is not carrying any money so it doesn't seem that he is going to be shopping.
He checks his watch under the gate. Three p.m. Another tour party is just heading down the “main drag” - he is supposed to be a part of it but has other ideas. They will be gathering at the gate again in just two hours, hopefully enough time for what he has in mind. This main thoroughfare is the bit that appears in all the tourist brochures but this way doesn't interest our friend, it is far too open and too busy for his taste, he prefers the less frequented byways to the hectic highways. No, he enters the gate at the back of his party and soon turns down a narrow side lane, easily missed, where immediately the hustle and bustle is less. In under a minute he stops by a coppersmith's shop, a place of traditional crafts. In the front portion one man and two boys, well they're probably about 18 so men really, are tapping away making intricate patterns on copper vessels and plates. Behind them is a doorway leading heaven knows where; it is open now, or partially so, with the curtain pulled to one side.
The tourist casts an appraising eye over the staff then examines a few pieces of their wares. The older man gets up and moves over to the prospective client.
“Very good quality, sir. All handmade here. You like?”
The tourist smiles in response, glances up at the man and the boys, perhaps lingering a little obviously over their crotches - subtlety is not in his nature, it wastes too much time. The message is received and understood. He looks at a few more items, seeming to examine them closely.
“Are you alone sir? Where is your wife?” It's best to check.
“I am not married.”
“Oh, then where is your girlfriend?”
“I have no girlfriend.”
The salesman openly strokes his crotch, our tourist friend is seen to smile.
“I have more interesting things to show you in the back, sir, would you like to come and see?”
Sir nods. The shop owner leads the way to the door and stands aside to let the guest pass through first. As he passes the man gently strokes the European backside. He turns, winks at his two assistants and goes inside pulling the curtain across behind him. The two boys look at one another and smirk, still tapping away.
It isn't very light in the back room, indeed it is dull and gloomy. For what is about to occur there is light enough. The craftsman undoes the fly in his western style trousers and pulls out his already swollen cock. The guest grabs hold of it and wanks it gently whilst his host undoes the few buttons holding the thin cotton shirt closed. The tourist lets go of the cock for long enough to allow the complete removal of his shirt, with his other non-wanking hand he has already taken out the condoms, the lube and tissues. He puts them on a low chair then pushes his shorts over his hips and lets them drop to the floor. He steps out of them and the sandals. He stands naked and hairless for a moment before dropping to his knees to take the object of his desire into his mouth. As he sucks and licks the host shucks his clothes around that primary activity. Soon he too is naked though by no means hairless. He is pale for this region but still dark compared to his companion of the moment.
This tourist is a gifted practitioner of his art. Observe how, whilst his mouth is so busily engaged his hands have extracted a foil packet from the box and have then extracted the condom from the foil packet. Now comes the tricky part, he has to concentrate a bit to gel charge the condom then he rolls it on to the dick, adding a little more lube to the tip when it's in position. Our host throws a cushion on to the floor and our guest lies down on his back pulling his knees back to somewhere near his ears and exposing his shaved pucker to all the world, or at least to the gaze of this one man, and ourselves, of course.
The host needs no further encouragement, he gets to his knees and lines his dick up on the target then slowly pushes it home. Both men let out a sigh. Being an older man he takes his time, edging himself to make it last, to make it better for both of them. Long before he has finished one of his assistants has glanced through the curtain then slipped into the room and stripped off - he is ready to be next in line.
With a muttered expletive or two the older man comes. When he pulls out the guest grabs a tissue and removes and wraps the condom then licks and sucks the cock until it is clean. The recipient of all this attention is not sure whether this is agony or ecstasy but suffers it with a smile on his face before withdrawing his cock to get dressed.
As soon as the older man's cock is out of their guest's mouth the younger man is there ready and eager. Watching the last few minutes has got him really hot and bothered. It all follows the same pattern - sucking and licking, gel charging and loading then lying back and thinking of England - the things folk will do for Queen and Country!
As soon as the old man goes back outside the other boy slips in through the door to watch and to get ready.
Neither youngster has the same endurance, it is all enthusiasm and no technique, although our tourist friend gets an unexpected but very welcome bonus from the last of the trio. When he is sucking and licking the second boy to clean his cock after the fuck the boy tenses and shoots another load right into our grateful friend's mouth - a very tasty mouthful.
After his little gift he and the boy get dressed - another bonus as the boy kisses him on the cheek and says thanks then, with a wave at his temporary hosts, our tourist heads onward further up the lane. He checks his watch as he leaves. Three forty.
A few doors down a leather merchant virtually pulls him into his shop to look at leather jackets. He holds one out for the man to try on and then, when the man has backed up into it, rubs his groin hard against the thinly cotton covered buns. The man puts a hand behind him and rubs the hard cock he can feel then turns and drops to his knees undoing the man's fly to release his next feast. There is no back room here so it is a blow job, the recipient leans back every so often to look through the door past the hanging jackets and bags and shoes to check that they are safe. A big, hot load - a little bitter perhaps but delicious all the same.
As he moves on it is three fifty, he has been there less than an hour.
He wanders on for a while apparently aimlessly but this is a calculating type of guy, he knows just what he is looking for - and could this be it? A clothing stall selling those long, baggy trousers that are part of the traditional dress here.
“Hello sir, pure fine cotton, best quality - and for you I make best price.”
“I have no money with me.” Much eye contact is going on and both men must be itching as they seem to be “readjusting” themselves a lot.
“No matter sir, you try on now then you come back and buy tomorrow.”
The salesman leads him through past hanging garments and five young men bent busily over sewing machines then up some stairs to a little combination store room and display room. The boys frankly appraise the man as he passes, he is doing the same to them.
Up the steep stairs the shop owner moves some stock off a table, now it is just covered with a blanket. He grabs a few pairs of the pants to find one the right size.
“Here sir, you try these.” He hands the garment over. Our man looks around as if to seek a changing room, he is kidding no-one but it is fun to play a moment. He sheds his shirt and goes to put the pants on over his shorts.
“No, no sir, shorts off first.”
Well, our friend is left with no choice so drops his shorts revealing himself in all his hard and naked glory. The shop-man moves over to him and puts one hand on the cock and the other on a buttock, our hero responds by stroking the man's dick through the fabric of his trousers and then easing down the fly.
“Ahmed, Murad - come up here a minute.” The man's call is hardly for reinforcements, merely a charitable act of sharing. Before his assistants arrive he himself is fully naked and our man is on his knees again. The staff are quick to obey their master's voice and are equally quick to get naked and either side of the boss. The man sucks one after the other for a few minutes then they help him up and he lies on his back on the table for the 'main event' - well there seems to be several events going on at once, and all interchanging all the time. The three locals are very respectful and when anally embedded wear condoms, there is much sucking and wanking as well - our friend is a natural at multitasking! As orgasms happen those who are depleted dress and go downstairs to be replaced by the others who come up for their share.
It is 4.40 when the man is dressed and on his way downstairs with his host just as two local policemen are passing. One is a cousin of the owner and the other his regular patrol mate. These guys aren't stupid, they realise immediately what is going on.
“A few questions sir, purely routine. Would you mind accompanying us back upstairs? It will only take a few minutes.”
Is this heaven or what? What kind, priapic God is watching over our friend? The police officers are in a bit of a hurry and don't have time to undress, they even leave their sub-machine strapped across their backs - they just open their flies and go for it. Our friend is soon stripped and back on the table this time on his front and across the narrow part, feet still on the floor as they plough him front and rear. As he grunts and moans he thinks of gentlemen in England now at work, friends of his: “Two big burly bits of Lily Law in full uniform and big leather boots! They'll never believe this back at the club!”
By the time the long arm of the law, and the long other bits too, have finished and are satisfied it is 5.01 p.m.! Our man dresses hurriedly and, waving goodbye to the machinists and the policemen and the owner, the man in the leather shop then the coppersmiths on his way past he arrives back at the gate just as the numbers are being counted. He tags back on at the end of the line as they head for their bus. As he walks he is aware of a delicious yet slightly sore stretched feeling. On the bus he sits alone, as usual, and surreptitiously counts his condoms - only 8 left! He is confused for a minutes then remembers the cloth merchant had a second go whilst supervising his staff. He giggles to himself as he wonders whether it could be counted as a training day.
He sighs and relaxes - he has to garner his strength for later. It's an hour back on the bus then he has promised the gardeners that he'll pop into their hut to tell them of his day, probably with a practical demonstration. After that it will be nearly dinner time and later he will be entertaining the night manager and the night porters and the night security staff. He knows he probably won't get much sleep - he reckons he can catch up on it the week after next when he is back at the office.
For the moment he may need to get out another pack of Ultra-Strong out of his suitcase tonight - he smiles to himself as he hopes the two gross he brought with him will last the two weeks he is here.
Oh well, he can always buy more.
© Mr_Malaprop 2005