Date: Wed, 20 Apr 2005 11:51:58 EDT
From: adama1416@aol.com
Subject: The Journey Chapter 2  A NEW BEGINNING  by Larry The Red Dragon

As always, the standard warnings and disclaimers apply.  if you are under age
for your locality, move on, otherwise, read on.  Remember that this is
copyrighted material and no part may be reproduced withour the express permission of
the author (that's me).  All serious email will be happily answered, all
flamers will be happily deleted.


Chapter II  A NEW BEGINNING

As the light filtered into the room through the break in the drapes, I opened
my eyes as I yawned.  Mahomet was no longer sleeping beside me.  Had he even
been there the night before, or had I just dreamed the whole thing?  I
suddenly realized that I was totally naked, and I knew that it couldn't have been a
dream.

There was a knock on the door and I got up from the bed, got the dressing
gown from the serviet at the and pulled it on and around me as I went to the
door.  I was somewhat disappointed when I opened the door to see a large man
wearing a turban and a thick mustache.  I was secretly hoping that it would be
Mahomet.

The large man pushed a wooden cart into the room which contained a domed
silver serving plate and a cozy covered pot.  There were also cups and silverware.
 He pushed the cart over in front of the side chair and removed the cover,
exposing a large helping of fresh fruits, some biscuits and jams.  I reached
into the pocket of the gown for a coin and handed it to him, giving him his
leave.  He left the lounge and closed the door behind him. I ate the meal and drank
the coffee, which tasted more bitter than that of the previous evening.

I couldn't help wondering what had happened to Mahomet as I dressed for the
day's outing.

As I left my rooms, I locked the door and headed for the staircase to the
lobby.  Upon entering the lobby I crossed to the desk to see where I might buy
some more comfortable clothing.  Instead of the consierge that had been there
the day before, there was a short, balding, heavy gentleman, smiling broadly as
he asked in French, "how may I help you sir?"

I told him what I needed and he gave me very concise directions to a
mercantile that would have "the very thing" and snapped for a bellman to arrange
transportation for me.  I smiled and informed him that I would walk then turned and
left the lobby.

Upon finding the mercantile, I found a clerk who was most eager to help me
find the things that I needed.  I purchased  several pairs of lightweight white
trousers, and flimsy white gauze shirts and he recommended that I also take a
wide brimed hat that appeared to be made of some sort of straw.  I wore a pair
of the trousers and one of the shirts and the hat and told him to send the
remainder, as well as the clothing I had worn in, to my hotel and have the
consierge sign for them.

As I left the shop, there were several men sitting in the shade of an awning
sipping drinks.  In hope that one or more of them might be English, I
approached and asked what sights were to be seen in the city.  A young man of about 20
spoke up and told me that he was planning on seeing the bazaar and that I was
welcome to accompany him.

He introduced himself as Thomas Cromwell and I introduced myself.

"Well young Robert,  shall we be off then?

We talked as we walked along the wide lane, avoiding the occasional pile of
animal dung, left by someone's camel, or cart donkey, or small herd of goats.
I learned that his father was also in the House, and while he knew who my
father was, he didn't know him personally.  He had finished his second year at
Oxford, which was where my friend Jack and I would be attending upon our return
home.   As we drew near the bazaar, he told me that I should remember to haggle
with the vendors there, lest they take offense.  He then informed me that he
had been here two summers past, with his father, and had learned the hard way.
 We laughed at the implication as we entered the bazaar.

The bazaar was nothing more than row after row of crude shelters, set up
along both sides of the lane.  There were fine oriental linens and silks, gold and
silver jewelry, fruits and vegetables, baskets, potteries, and even chickens
and other animals for sale in each and every shelter.  One vendor was
displaying swords of various sizes and shapes, knives and daggers with leather
scabbards.  Thomas found a clay pipe that he fancied and began to haggle with the
vendor, first in English, which the vendor didn't understand, then in French,
which he did seem to grasp a little.  In the end, he purchased the pipe for 15
denare.

A young girl tried to gain my interest in some fine cloth.  I knew that it
must be silk, as it shimmered like water in the morning sun.  I tried to tell
her that I wasn't interested, when I saw a silken shirt.  I inquired of her the
price to which she replied "50 denare".  I shook my head and offered her 20.
She found that amount disagreeable, and said "45".  When we had finished
haggling over the price, I got the garment for 30 denare, and was very happy.  I
had made up my mind that it would be a perfect "welcome back" gift for Jack. I
was sure that the color which was a very deep green, which I felt would go with
his eyes.  I also purchased several other items at the bazaar before Thomas
and I decided that it was time to find someplace to eat.

We located a small café on our walk back to the hotel and decided to eat.  I
had a pilaf and a glass of wine, while Thomas had kuskus and an English ale.
We chatted  some more as we ate our meal, and discussed the purchases we had
made at the bazaar, the heat, which was becoming somewhat oppressive, and our
itineraries.  I told Thomas that I would be leaving on Friday for Cairo by
caravan to Mosil and then by tramp steamer to the city.  He told me that he would
be in Marrakech for another month before leaving to return to his home in
London.  We finished our meal and headed back to the hotel.

At the hotel, I went to the desk and asked if my package had arrived from the
mercantile, and the consierge handed me the large bundle, and then informed
me that a cable had arrived for me from England.  I thanked him and he called
for a bellman.  I returned my attention to the heavy little man, and asked, "Is
Mahomet here today?"  to which he replied, "he is working the main dining
room today, but I'm sure he can be available if needed".  he then smiled with a
quick little wink.  The bellman arrived and took my parcel and followed me to
my rooms.

I opened the door and the bellman took my parcel in and lay it on the end of
my bed, then returned to the lounge where he waited for further instructions.
I handed him a coin and told him that I would call for him if needed.  He
turned and left, closing the door behind him.  I then poured myself a glass of
wine and sat on the setee to read the cable.

The cable read, "Son.  Should you need it, I have transferred additional
funds to the Imperial Banking House in Cairo.  The total amount is 200 pounds.
Jack's father received word of his illness.  The hospital officials assure him
there is no need to worry.  Enjoy your trip.  Father."

I got up and went into the bedroom to put away the things I had purchased at
the bazaar, and the mercantile.  As I opened the bundle, I lay the items out
on the bed and opened the wardrobe to put them away.  I used the parchment
wrapping from the mercantile to wrap the silk shirt that I had bought for Jack and
put it away in the wardrobe with my other purchases.  I decided that I would
take a short nap to refresh myself.

As I lay sleeping, I dreamed of  Mahomet.  He and I lay in the bed, caressing
one another, gently.  My hands roamed his young, toned, olive skin, caressed
his silken black hair, and gently pulled him to me.  As our groins ground into
each other, the hardness of our penises throbbing against one another, gave
rise to further passion and our lips met, softly at first, then more
voraciously, as my tongue invaded his mouth.  Mahomet pushed me onto my back as he
straddled my body, gently caressing my chest and down over my abdomen as he raised
his bum into the air and began to sit onto my hard member.

I was suddenly startled awake by a knock at the door.  When I arose from the
bed, I noticed that my clothing was saturated with perspiration, and my hard
member led the way.  I attempted to adjust myself as I made my way into the
lounge to open the door.  There stood the bellman.

"Shall I draw your bath sir? Dinner seating will be in two hours."

"Yes, of course"  I responded, without really thinking about the time, I
stepped aside, allowing the bellman to enter the suite, relieved that my erection
had subsided.

He went about his business of drawing the bath and asked "will there be
anything else, sir?  If not, I shall return in half an hour to clean up the room."
I excused him and he left the suite.

As I removed my clothes and proceeded to bathe, I was instantly drawn, in my
mind, to the previous days bathing experience.  Immediately, my penis began to
respond.

Why was this happening?  I had never experienced these feelings before, not
even in the dorms at school, or the bathing area where there were always any
number of other boys naked, or at least nearly so.  And why this young boy,
Mahomet?  Why was I so attracted to him?  I was so confused.  This was all so
contrary to my upbringing.  After all, I was a noble, I had suited young ladies.
I had never had sex before, but I knew that I enjoyed the company of the girls
at court.  Even onboard the ship, Jack and I had shared the same birth, and
had never touched one another.  Perhaps the whole thing was just in my
imagination.

I finished my bath and dried, then dressed for dinner.  As I was preparing to
leave for the dinning room, there was a knock.  I opened the door and the
bellman had returned to do his cleaning.  He drained the tub and gathered the
towels.  As he prepared to leave, I inquired about laundry services.  He replied,
"We have laundry service sir, just put the garments in the basket in the
bedroom and I will set it in front of your door when I come to turn down your bed
for the night.  The items will be returned in the morning sir."  I thanked him
and handed him a gold coin.  He bowed slightly, turned and left.

In the dining room, I saw Thomas, already seated and he waved me over to his
table.  I joined him and the matre de came and took our orders.  A waiter
brought us a bottle of wine shortly and poured each of us a glass.  As we talked,
Mahomet arrived with a tray and placed the plates of food on the table in
front of us. I thought I saw him smile as he took the napkin and opened it with a
snap, gently placing it on my lap.  He picked up Thomas' napkin and did the
same procedure, but with less attention and much less expression.  As he left
the table, I definitely saw a smile as he looked back at me from behind Thomas.

We ate the meal, mostly in silence, when Thomas suddenly asked, "Have you had
him yet?"  I looked stunned and nearly choked on my wine.  Thomas laughed.

"He's very available.  And there's really nothing wrong with it you know."

"B…B…But…I…er…" I stammered.

"Robert, you don't have to pretend with me.  As you know, I've been to
Marrakech  for two summers now, it's illegal to have relations with the local young
girls, that can get you incarcerated, and even put to death, but there are
many young boys available, and that one seems to fancy you very much, and from
what I can tell, you fancy him as well."

I sat there with a dumb look on my face as Thomas continued, "It's common for
Europeans to have relations with the "bum boys".  Most of us do it, and
nobody thinks any less of you for it, it's like it's expected.  In fact, my father
arranged for my first one, the first summer I came here with him.  And I can
tell, that boy fancies you, and you fancy him, so go for it.  I'm sure his
price is not high, he's already past 16.  It's only the younger ones that cost a
lot."

I was speechless.  Was I that obvious?  I was flushed, I could feel the heat
radiating from my face as I sat there.  I coughed slightly and wiped my mouth
with my napkin.

"Thomas, are you telling me that you have done that?"

"Of course I have.  Often.  In fact, I have made arrangements for a boy to be
sent to my rooms this very night."
"But, how do you make arrangements for something like that?"

"Quite simply really, usually, the boys will approach you on the street, or
at the train station.  Or, you can just make arrangements at the front desk.
There are always a number of boys hanging around the kitchen who will happily
service westerners like us for a few denare, and the consierge will even add it
to your bill as "entertainment".

I couldn't believe that I was hearing this.  I was beginning to wonder if
anything like this had happened to my father when he was here with the Queens
Brigade.  I suddenly got a mental image of my father buggering a young Arabic
boy, and I felt a bit uneasy.

"Are you alright Lad?"

"What? Er…yes, I'm just having a bit of trouble digesting all of this."

"Let's retire to the lounge for coffee, and I'll explain it all to you."

We moved into the lounge and Thomas found the matre de as I looked for a
table.  Finding one, I sat as Thomas approached and sat across from me.

He began to tell me all about his first time with a "bum boy" and how his
father had set it all up for him.  Of course, his mother knew nothing of these
goings on.  He even informed me that, on more than one occasion, he and his
father had shared the same boy when they found one that they both fancied.

After a few minutes of conversation, the waiter arrived with our coffee.  We
drank the coffee and talked for a short while when Thomas excused himself,
saying that he had had a long day and wanted to go to his room for some
"pleasurable" pursuits.

I looked at the large hall clock and noted that it was nearly 9:00.  I
decided that I would go to my rooms and try to make some sense all that Thomas had
just revealed to me.

Back in my rooms, I poured myself a glass of wine and selected a nice ripe
pomegranite from the sideboard, picked up a small silver plate and sat on the
settee.  As I peeled the fruit and began to eat it, there was a knock.  I
answered the door to find the bellman.  He had come to turn down the bed.  As he
returned from the bedroom, he was carrying the basket with my soiled things in
it.  When he reached the door, he turned and smiled, "enjoy your evening, sir."
he said and turned and left.

I finished the piece of fruit and was just finishing the wine when there came
another knock on the door.  I wondered if the bellman had forgotten
something, or if, perhaps, there was another cable from home.  I opened the door and
quickly caught my breath.  There at the door, stood Mahomet, still wearing his
penne from serving in the dining room.

"Young Sir is prepared for bed, yes?"  his smile showed radiantly as his eyes
seemed to dance with delight.

"Mahomet!  Yes, I was just getting ready to go to bed.  But, what are you
doing here?  Aren't you working in the dining room?"

"Matre de told Mahomet that he should come to young sir's room.  This is ok,
yes?"

"Yes, of course Mahomet, but who? "  then I remembered, Thomas had spoken to
the matre de as we left the dining room.

I stepped aside for Mahomet to enter the room, and closed and bolted the
door.  I turned and looked at the boy.  His smile had not left his face.  I led
him into the bed room and nervously fumbled with my clothes when the boy stepped
in front of me.  "Let Mahomet help, young sir."  he said as he began to
remove my waistcoat, and then began to tug at my shirt as he raised it over my
head.  He carefully folded the coat and placed it into the wardrobe, then returned
to undo my trousers, bending down and removing my shoes, then pulling the
trouser legs off my feet.  As I stood there, naked to the world, he untied his
penne and removed his shirt and then his sandles and trousers.  He led me to the
bed and moved me into it, pulling the bedclothes out of the way, he climbed
onto the bed with me as he leaned into me.  Our lips met softly, as he lay me
back onto the bed.  He broke off the kiss and began to kiss his way down my
neck to my chest, pausing to lick each of my nipples.  They quickly erected as he
nibbled and licked at each of them in turn.

My body was racked with pleasure as the boy continued his ministrations.  My
mind reeled with thought.  What was I doing?  Wasn't this wrong?  Could I
really be allowing this beautiful young boy to do these things to me?

As Mahomet continued his travels down my abdomen, I gave myself over to the
boy, no more questions, no more resistance.  I wanted to experience all that
this boy had to offer, and I didn't care why, I didn't even want to know why.
I just knew that it had to happen.

Mahomet took my semi erect penis into his hand and held it, seemingly
examining it, or contemplating his next course of action.  As he lowered his head and
took the member into his warm moist mouth, I saw stars.  This was the first
time anyone had ever done anything like this to me, and the sensations were
nothing less than electric!

I began to thrash about on the bed, sweat beginning to saturate my hair as
the boy worked on my, now fully, erect member.  I knew that this boy could not
possibly be an amature, as he was skillfully swallowing all of me with no
difficulty.

Remembering the dream I had had earlier, I pulled Mahomet up to me.  He
looked a bit sad as I quickly put my finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhhhh, don'
t worry, I am not upset, but I want more, I want to make love to you, not
just be serviced by you.  Do you have to leave tonight?"

He responded by shaking his head.  I continued, "Good, then we have the whole
night, and you will teach me what to do, so that you can enjoy this as much
as I will."

Mahomet smiled as he replied, "Young sir is good to Mahomet.  Most men just
want Mahomet to service them, they never care about Mahomet, but sir is
different.  Mahomet will teach, young sir will allow Mahomet to feel, to enjoy,
Mahomet will teach young sir."

I pulled him to me and kissed him gently on the lips.  The boy wasn't sure at
first, but he began to respond to the kiss and returned it, more
passionately, as his tongue slipped passed my lips to entangle itself with mine.  As we
continued to kiss, our hands began to roam over each other's bodies.  I could
feel the smoothness of his skin, which made me wonder if he was, in fact, as old
as I had been led to believe, but the hair on his groin and bum soon put
those fears at rest.

He broke our kiss long enough to instruct me how to fondle his genitals
without causing discomfort, and how to caress the melon like mounds of his firm
bum.  From there, I decided that I would simply emulate what he did to me, and
thereby, hopefuly, give him pleasure as he gave it to me.  Recalling how he had
traversed my torso with his tongue, I decided to try what he had done as well.


I nibbled ever so slightly along his neck, and down onto his chest.  As I
worked on his brown nipples, the boy took in deep breaths, and writhed about
some.  I shortly made my way down over his stomach and nuzzled his pubic hair with
my chin as I took him into my hand and began to manipulate him.  I turned my
head to face his erect penis, which looked only slightly smaller than my own.
I could smell his musk, and I felt my mouth begin to water slightly.
Instinctively, I opened my mouth and leaned forward, taking the end into my mouth.
Realizing that the taste was not unpleasant, I began to continue taking him
into my mouth.

I suddenly coughed and choked a bit and pulled quickly back.

"Sir should be careful, don't try to do too much for first time."
With that reassurance, I returned to trying to take him again.  As I moved my
mouth on the length of his penis, I began to relax, and soon found that I
could take more of it without too much difficulty.  Mahomet was moaning more and
more loudly, when he suddenly took hold of my shoulders and pulled me back up
to him.

We kissed again, with greater passion, as Mahomet slowly pushed me over onto
my back, and began to move himself down on the bed until he was kneeling
between my legs.  He leaned down and began to lick around my genitals, sucking
first one ball and then the other , into his warm mouth.  He then took my penis in
his hand and began to move his tongue around the swollen head.  The
sensations were more intense than anything I had ever felt.  I felt him release his
grip on my shaft and my entire penis was taken into his warm, moist mouth, as he
sank down on it completely.  I reveled in the feeling as I felt his warm
breath from his nostrils waft across my pubic hair.  I felt the whole room begin to
spin as the colors started to kaliediscope around us.

To my total dissappointment, Mahomet suddenly released my penis from his
mouth and smiled up at me as he spat into his hand, moving the hand under himself
and into his bum.

"Young sir is now ready." he said as he lifted his body and positioned
himself to straddle my lower abdomen.  I felt him again take my penis in hand as he
guided it under himself.  When the head of it made fisrt contact with the
crown of his most secret place, I thought that I would die.  The sensations
coursed throughout my entire being as he opened himself to me.

When, at last, he was fully seated onto my penis, I thought that I would
explode.  He must have sensed this, as he sat perfectly still for a brief time.
The warmth in his sheath seemed to radiate from his body into mine as I felt
him begin to move, ever so slowly at first, in an upward motion, only to drive
himself back down, sinking me into the depths of his bowels.

I felt weak, yet driven, as his moans wafted above me, indicating the
pleasure he was feeling, which in turn, spurred my own senses.  He rode, like a
skilled warrior riding into battle, as he carried me to new heights of pleasure.  I
could feel the urgency of his movements as he moved up and back down,
repeatedly, the sweat dripping from his young face onto my body, when suddenly, he
threw his head backward and his young penis erupted, covering my stomach and
chest with his youthful seed.  The contractions in his arse seemed to grip my
penis like a vice, causing me to explode into him, pouring volley after volly of
my own hot seed deeply into him.

The violence of my eruption gave cause for me to wonder, had someone hit the
room with a cannon blast, as it seemed that the whole room shook.

The boy then collapsed forward, covering my now spent body with his own, as
we lay together, trembling and gasping for air, our bodies drenched in the
sweat of total passionate abandon.

As our breathing seemed to return to normal, I wrapped my arms around him and
held him tightly, so that we couldn't be separated, and with my penis still
encased inside him, we drifted off to sleep.

As the sunlight filtered into the room, I awoke, looking into his gentle
face.  I brushed the hair back from his forehead with my fingers and traced the
gentle curve of his nose.  Leaning forward, slightly, I kissed that nose.  The
boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

"Good morning Mahomet." I whispered softly, as he smiled at me and closed his
eyes.  I enclosed him once again in my arms and kissed him gently on the
lips.

"Sir must get up now, the cart will soon be here with food."

"I don't want any food, and I don't want to get up either, I want us to
remain here in bed and make love all day! And I don`t want you to call me sir
anymore either, I want you to call me Robert."

"But sir, Mahomet must be in kitchen soon.  It is his duty! And it is not
right for Mahomet to call sir by his name, Mahomet is a servant and such a thing
would surely get Mahomet beaten for disrespect."

I felt somewhat disappointed by this turn of things, but realized that the
boy was right.  He did have his duties to perform, and, if someone ever heard
him call me by my name he would surely gat a beating.

"Well then, when we are alone, you must address me as Robert, there will be
no one else present to say anything and it will be just between us."

"Mahomet will try to remember, but now must go.  Have many pots to clean
before Mahomet may eat."

The boy loosed himself from my arms, rose from the bed and quickly retrieved
his clothing, pulling it hurriedly onto his lythe young frame as he prepared
to leave me.  I too rose from the bed and pulled on my dressing gown as we
entered the lounge room and to the door.  As I reached for the door, Mahomet
sheepishly leaned toward me and kissed me on the lips, then turned, opened the door
and left.

I suddenly felt totally alone.  I decided to dress and venture out of the
hotel to occupy myself for the day.


Later that afternoon, as I returned to the hotel, I walked over to the
consierge, which turned out to be the man who had been on duty on the day of my
arrival.

"I want to know how much the boy, Mahomet, earns for his duties here?"

The consierge seemed baffled by my request but responded, "Two denary per
day, plus found, sir.  Might one inquire why?"

"I should like to have him serve me as my personal attendant for the duration
of my stay here.  I don't expect him to have any hotel duties during that
time, and I want him bathed and dressed in the garments which will be arriving
here soon from the mercantile.  Is this all understood?"

"Yes sir, and what hour should I have him at your suite sir?"

I looked at him, somewhat incredulously, and said simply, "as soon as it can
be arranged."

As I crossed the lobby to mount the stairs I heard him call for the bellman
to go and find Mahomet.  I smiled to myself.