Date: Sat, 28 Mar 2015 23:37:36 -0700 From: Amar Patel Subject: An American in Kandahar (CH VI) Written by: Amar Patel Disclaimer: The following story is fictional. The author (myself) is older than 21, anyone who is under the legal age (according to their country, state, or provincial laws) to view erotic material should immediately dissuade themselves from reading further.The story is fictional and similarities to events and persons (living or dead) are purely coincidental and unintentional. If you are offended by homosexual erotica or it is illegal for you to read such material. Please read no further. Copyright: The story may not be copied, distributed, in any way, shape or form without consent from the author. Opinions and Improvements can be sent to my email: patelamar360@gmail.com or on twitter (PatelAmarNifty) If you wish to continue to read mine and other authors works, it is important you donate to Nifty. They have provided a rich amount of stories for your enjoyment so it is only fair you give back ;). Comments are always welcomed. And encouragement. _____________________________ Dearest Readers, Once again, I must express my deepest apologies for my prolonged hiatus from the site, and I must tell you that this hiatus was attributed to various things in my life that needed my attention. Not only was I working on my dissertation, but was also beginning my plans for my engagement to the love of my life. On another note, I now have some time to actually sit down and pour myself into this tale, and I thank you all for your emails. I hope that all of you had a wonderful holiday, and hope that you were able to spend those days with family and loved ones. This will be the latest chapter in the story, and may your interests be renewed in this sensual yet soon to be romantic tale. Signed, Amar Patel ____________________________ Chapter VI Khaled Spreading a plain, white cloth onto the ground with the flick of his wrists, and laying Khala's elegant, hand-woven cushions upon it, Jahan-jan felt it best and convenient for us to eat in the traditional Afghan style. Sitting with our legs crossed around a steaming platter of Qurma, we ate our meal in silence, and little was said or heard besides the scraping of spoons against the walls of cracked ceramic bowls, and the occasional request from Agha for me to refill his cup of cinnamon tea. From time to time, I saw agha looking up from his meal with an expression of concern, and I watched as his gaze would trail and linger on our guest for the slightest moment each time, but there was something about that gaze that I had not seen in many years. No longer were agha's eyes the hardened ambers that I had grown accustomed to... nay, they were the eyes that I used to see those many years ago... like a jar of freshly harvested honey. As I laid my now empty bowl on the tray and went to refill agha's cup once more, I followed his gaze, and too was filled with concern. Sitting with his legs outstretched, Amal sat with his hands clasped tightly around his teacup, his knuckles white from his vice-like grip, and I was surprised that the porcelain walls had not cracked or shattered from such abuse. Leaving his bowl of Qurma cold and untouched, his expression was pensive as if in intense thought, and the bachem's eyes were glossed over and fixated on the crimson liquid within the cup. From across the table, agha and I exchanged glances and nods of silent comprehension, and I dared to move closer to the bachem's ridgid frame while Jahan-jan moved cautiously to his other side. Tenderly and with care, I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at me with a solemn expression, and the seas of his eyes were flooded with the familiar emotions of sorrow and longing. Smiling as I gently lifted the battered cup from his grip, I placed it on the table, and exchanged it for the cold bowl of Qurma and a spoon. Holding it out to the bachem, I tried to speak with a gentle yet coaxing tone. "Bachem, it is not good to starve yourself this way, you should try eating." Amal shook his head, and let his gaze drop to his lap "Honestly... sir, I don't feel like eating." Before I could argue, agha's voice chimed in "Bachem, Khaled is right, it does not do you any good to starve yourself this way. As your physician, I must advise you that eating will assist in your recovery. You're only jeopardizing your health by not eating." Agha held out his hand, and I placed the bowl and spoon in it. Shaking his head once more, the bachem said nothing, and Jahan-jan let out a soft sigh. Placing the bowl and spoon on the table, Agha clasped his hand on Amal's shoulder, and the bachem looked up sheepishly. "You know bachem, someone once told me that in times of longing and loneliness, food is perhaps one of the greatest medicines. You must eat to preserve your health... so that one day, they will see you alive and well. So if not for you bachem, then eat with the hope that you will see your loved ones again." It made me elated that agha remembered Baba's advice to him after so many years, but it made me more happy that this advice had the same effect, and I watched as the bachem lifted the bowl hesitantly and took his first bite. Watching curiously as he chewed and swallowed, I felt relief when a smile of satisfaction filled his face. "It's delicious." Agha flashed a smile "Good. Now if you would exscuse us for a moment bachem, I must speak with Khaled in private. Do you mind?" The bachem shook his head "No, take all the time you need sir." Jahan-jan gathered the tray of dirty dishes and stood. "When you're finished Amal, just leave your bowl there, and Khaled will gather it later." Nodding with his mouth full, the bachem went back to his meal, and Agha made his way to the kitchen. Turning back, he beckoned me with a wave of his hand, and I quickly followed him through the door. I found him laying the dirty dishes in the sink to soak, and he said nothing for what seemed like ages to me. Finally, with a soft clearing of his throat, he spoke as he began scrubbing the dishes "Khaled, will you fetch my medical bag, shoes, pakol, and jacket?" Puzzled, I went to gather as he asked, and returned as swiftly as I could. Waiting for him to dry his hands, I passed him his patu and pakol (skull cap) with a bow of my head. Opening the drawer behind me, I removed a bottle of shoe polish and an old rag, and kneeled down to begin my work on agha's scruffed, and dirt stained shoes. As agha donned his jacket and slipped his pakol over his hair, there was no interaction between, for I did not dare pry into his business. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I look upwards to see agha looking down at me with a soft smile. "You do not have to do that Khaled, they are bound to get dirty anyways." "A doctor must look presentable agha." I replied as I gave a final wipe. Jahan-jan chuckled " I am sure they will be more concerned with discussing their virgin daughters than my shoes Khaled." Nodding my head , I stood, aand felt obligated to adjust his jacket and pakol to his liking. Letting out a soft sigh, I went behind agha and let my fingers adjust his collar so that it rested against his neck, and slid the pakol to his liking; always snug against his hair. As I dusted off his shoulder, I finally mustered the courage to ask about his sudden departure. " Why are you going to the bazaar agha?" He stood "I have some patients to attend to Khaled, I am the only doctor in town afterall." "Is that all agha?" "You know me all too well Khaled." Agha gave a nervous laugh, then his tone became hushed. Looking in the general direction of the main room, he turned back to me "I must look into the situation Khaled, we may not be safe here for long. Besides, we have Amal to look after now, and we must provide for him with whatever we can afford. It is a matter of honor and obligation as Afghans that we make his stay comfortable." Taking his bag in hand, he walked towards the connecting door. "I will not be back until dusk Khaled, so you will only have to feed the bachem. Do you need anything from there?" I thought for a moment "Just sirloin and scallions agha." He nodded , and placed his hand on the door "Khaled?" "Yes agha?" "I hate to burden you with more work, but could you bathe him and change his bandages?" "Of course agha." "Thank you Khaled, to be honest, I'm not sure what I would do without you." With that he went out to join the bachem, and left me with a fluttering heart. It took me several moments to collect myself, and as I went out into the room, I found agha and the bachem chatting. Looking towards me as I made my way across the room, agha placed his hand on the bachem's shoulder. "As I said, Khaled will be taking care of you while I am gone, and he will be sure to do his chores in close proximity. You may assist him if you want, but you must do it in your physical capability. Is that understood?" The bachem nodded "Yes sir." "Good, I will be taking my leave then. Khaled, will you walk me out?" "Of course agha." Giving a quick nod to the bachem, I quickly followed agha out. Struggling to catch up with agha's long, fast stride, I quickly opened the wrought iron gate, and let him pass through. Shutting it behind him, he turned "Take good care of him Khaled, I am relying on you." "Of course agha." With a final nod, he began making his way across the clearing, and into the ruins that kept our home hidden. Waiting until his body vanished behind a crumbling wall, I ran across the yard, and peeked over the wall. Watching him duck and dodge through fallen minarets and shells of buildings long forgotten, he vanished once more, and reappeared on the farside near the road. Seeing him wave from afar, I nodded my head, and retreated back inside from the harsh air. Finding the bachem waiting patiently with dishes stacked neatly to the side. Smiling as I bent down, I folded the sheet with a flick of my wrists, and placed it along with the cushions back in the cupboard. Bending down once more to gather the dishes, I felt a tughon my shirt, and looked down to see Amal with his hands outstretched. "I can help you with those sir." I shook my head "It is not much bachem, I am alright, but you may join me in the kitchen if you want?" "Yes sir." I held out my hand "Do you need help getting up bachem?" "Yes sir, if you can." The bachem took my hand in his. With a soft pull, I gently pulled him upwards, and watched him cringe slightly. Worried, I quickly caught him as his knees gave out. "Are you alright Amal? Is there any pain?" "It's been hurting for awhile now sir." I looked at his thigh "Is it too much pain?" "No it comes and goes." I did not want him to walk in that condition, and so I bent myself slightly "Here, get on my back bachem." Amal was taken aback "Are you sure sir?" "Yes, come now." I felt him slowly get onto my back, and I made sure that my arms kept his legs well supported. Trying to balance in one hand, I saw the bachem take the dishes, and he smiled weakly. Slowly, I stood, and we began making our way across the room. His body was warm against mine, and his breath was sweet. Each breath he took tickled the back of my ear, and I did my best not to say a word. As soon as we entered the kitchen, I made my way over to a chair that faced the window, and bent down so that he could sit. Slowly, I released my grip on his legs, and turned to see him looking sheepishly at me. "Thank you Khaled." I smiled "You do not weigh that much bachem." "Do you need help with anything sir?" I patted his shoulder " No, you just rest. All of my chores are in the kitchen today, I will not be long. If you need anything, just ask." "I will sir, thank you." With that, a silence fell between us as I moved into the kitchen, and he turned his attention to the garden below. Opening cabinets and drawers, I gathered ingredients and bowls for the evening meal and dessert. As I chopped vegatables and boiled the chicken for Samgyetang (ginseng soup), I saw the bachem glance over from time to time with hand clasped over his heart, yet the silence persisted, and soon time seemed to stand still. First seconds then minutes, and finally an hour passed without interaction between us. The Samgyetang was now simmering away over the flame, and I soon found myself kneading the dough for chapssalddeok (Korean mochi). The bachem stared out into the field of morning glories, the seas of his eyes reflecting their soft blue petals. He seemed to be mumbling under his breath, as if in prayer, and I covered the dough with a damp cloth. Taking a mortar and pestle from the nearby cabinet, I spooned a ladel full of red beans into the mortar, and took a jar of honey from the windowsill. As I mashed the beans, I would stir in a spoonful of honey every five stirs or so, and soon it became a rich paste; just like how agha liked it. As I molded and shaped each ddeok, I saw the bachem looking over once more, his hand was awkwardly raised as if to catch my attention. As I placed the last ddeok into the bowl, I heard him clear his throat, and I turned my head with a smile. "Do you need something bachem?" "I just wanted to ask a question sir." "What is it bachem?" I was a little apprehensive. Looking out towards the garden, his tone grew soft. "When you walked Dr. Ebadi out earlier, I saw a gravestone in the corner, and I was wondering whose that was?" I felt my heart grow slightly heavier, it still pained me to mention him "That is my baba's grave." "Are Dr. Ebadi's parents buried there too?" I walked over and pulled a chair up next to his "Nay, they are buried at the graveyard in the city." Amal looked shocked "Why is that?" "Here in Kandahar province, most people are Sunni Muslims, and Pashtun. MY father was Shi'a and Hazara. To the talibs, that meant that he was not worthy of a burial in a Pashtun cemetery. Agha was the one who buried him." "I'm sorry sir." "Nay bachem, it is fine." Several minutes passed before the bachem spoke again "What was he like?" "My baba?" Amal nodded "Yes sir." I paused for a moment, and I mustered the strength to talk about Baba after so many years without him "My baba was a kind man, even though he went through many pains in his life. He raised me all alone, and was always firm but fair. He was very pious and loved Allah, for Allah gave him many blessings. Baba was always there for me, and he was there for agha when Kaka Omir and Khala Darja departed for Jannah. Even to the end , he took care of us, and he still does. It's been a long time since he died, but I still miss him bachem." "How did he die, Khaled?" "He was shot by the Taliban for stealing, at least that is what they accused him of." "Bismillah, I am sorry for your loss." The bachem laid his hand on mine. I wiped my face with a free hand, and felt curiosity take hold "May I ask you some questions bachem?" The bachem nodded eagerly "Of course." "What are your parents like?" He looked up towards the celling in thought "My papa is alot like yours Khaled. He is a man of faith and text, but not to the point of extremes, and he's accepting of others. He married my madre, a Catholic, without batting an eye, and he told his family that it does not matter if she is Catholic. To him, Allah has many names, and Allah serves many people. He was always strict and protective of me when I was younger, but him and I spent a lot of time together." "Is your father Sunni or Shi'a, bachem?" I found myself listening intently. "My papa always told me that it doesn't matter what branch of Islam you are, we're all Muslim." I was amazed "What about your mother bachem?" "My madre is a wonderful person, and intelligent too. She is papa's compliment, they both share a kind heart and open mindset. She often tells me that she is a humanist when it comes to philosophy, and I can see that in the way she cared for me. How loving she is of me. My madre is not a practicing Catholic anymore, but did teach me all about her faith and to pray the rosary. She and my papa are very close, and I always remember how they would do their best to teach me about my mixed heritage." He whistled out in that melodic language "Me and my papa used to spend hours whistling to one another from a mile away. My madre would always yell at us, but my madre and I shared a passion for Flamenco. We spent many mornings and nights dancing away, and that was my papa's time to scold. I miss them so much sir. Sometimes, it gets to the point that I feel as if someone is squeezing my heart." The way he spoke was very sincere, and I could not help but admire his ability to keep his heart so warm. "Your parents seem wonderful bachem." He nodded silently, and turned towards me "What about your mother sir?" I shook my head "She died when I was young, all of I know of her comes from stories I have been told." Suddenly, a thought sprang into my mind "I have a photos of her if you want to see?" The bachem nodded eagerly "Of course." "It is downstairs, do you want me to carry you down?" "Yes sir." Bending down so that he could climb onto my back, I lifted him upwards, and we began making our slow trip downstairs. Throughoout our walk down the empty halls and down the stairs, he looked off into space with an expression of guilt, and as we neared the bottom of the stairs, he spoke with a soft tone. "Thank you for doing this." "Nay bachem, it is no trouble." Rounding the corner, I carried him to the door on the far left, and pushed open the door to my room. Placing him on the bed, I went to gather my box of treasures, and took the picture of Eomeoni down from the shelf. Sitting on the bed, I placed the box between him and I, and opened the box. Taking out yellowed aged photos, I tried to remember how Halmeoni described them to me, trying to put stories and names with unknown faces. "This one here is of my Halmeoni and her family when she was a young girl." The bachem smiled at it "There's an annotation on the back, I think it is in Korean." I nodded "It says, the Rhee family... Seoul, The Republic of Korea, 1948." Amal smiled "And who is that man?" Looking, I saw a picture of Mathieu staring upwards at me, his hand rested on a ceremonial saber. "That is my grandfather bachem." "He was from Europe wasn't he?" I nodded "He was from Belgium, there is something written on the back of that photo too, but I cannot read it bachem." With a curious glance, the bachem flipped the photo over and smiled. "It's in French, I can read it for you if you want sir?" "You know French bachem?" I was a little envious. He nodded "My papa speaks French, he taught me" Looking at the handwritten text, a smile filled his handsome face, revealing luminous white teeth "Ma chère, t'es parti bien que je t'aie dit d'aller avec moi, mais , j'ai su que t'as eu beaucoup de peur. Honnêtement, je penserai de toi chaque jour, et un jour, je te trouverai. N'oublies pas.... It says my dearest, you left even though I told you to go with me, but I knew that you had a lot of fear. Honestly, I will think of you each day, and one day, I will find you. Don't forget me." The bachem slid the photo over "It's romantic, don't you think?" Picking up the photo, I could not help but smile "It is romantic." "I guess this must be your mother then." The bachem lifted the photo of Eomeoni. "Yes that is." "You two look very alike." "My baba always used to tell me that." "It's true though." "Do you look more like your baba or mama bachem?" The question slipped from my lips. The bachem's smile dimmed for a moment, and he paused "Everyone tells me that I got the best from both of them." "You are very handsome bachem." I saw a blush come across his face "Thank you sir." "You are very welcome bachem." The bachem gave another glance at the photos "Do you have any contact with your family?" That was something that I could not answer for certain "Baba had no family left, and I have not talked to Halmeoni in so long. I do not know whether if she is alive or not, or if she has any living family. All I know is that all the family I knew are with Allah now..." "I'm sorry about that..." "Nay bachem, they are safe now." I tried to give my best smile. Looking up towards the clock on the wall, I saw that it would be a good time to bathe him. Shyly, I swallowed the lump in throat "It is about time to change your bandages, how about you and I take a bath?" The bachem clasped his heart in nervousness "Uhm... alright." "There is a hammam just down the hall, it will be a little uncomfortable bachem, but it is something I must do. Here, rest your arm on my shoulder, and we can walk together." "Alright." His right arm swept across my shoulders, and I slowly stood. Together, we made slow easy steps to the hammam, and I shut the door tightly, and latched it. "I am going to get the supplies ready for the bath, bachem." I tried to hide my own blush as I walked over and gathered two washbasins along with a sponge, soap, shampoo, and several clean towels. Moving the washbasin to the faucet, I turned to the bachem "Do you want hot or cold water bachem?" "Uhm...Hot please." Turning the knobs, the water began to fill the buckets, and I set the sponge aside. Turning towards the bachem, I tried my best to smile "I am going to have to take your clothes off now, bachem." He looked towards the floor , and rested his arms against the sides of his body "Alright." Moving behind him, I gently removed his taqiyah with a pull, and revealed his soft black hair. Lifting his arms over his head, I removed his shirt, and untied the drawstring in one swift motion. Looking upwards as I pulled his underwear down, I felt his body become tense as my cold fingers touched his soft, smooth skin. Quickly wrapping a towel about his waist, I turned him to face me. "Wait here for a minute, I must get new clothes , bandages, and ointment." Without any hesitation, I quickly went to the clinic and agha's room, and returned as swiftly as I could, but I did not prepare myself for the sight that awaited me. Standing there with only a small towel to cover his privates, the bachem stood bare skinned, and I was almost mesmerized. Toned with a lean sinewy frame, his warm skin was complimented by the lights above, and his handsome face held a slight blush. Eyes brighter than the water that flowed from the tap, he was the first man that I had seen naked. As I rushed to hide my stupor from him by shutting off the tap, I could not help but glance back. Bismillah, I wondered if all those men of the Maghreb looked like that. Beckoning the bachem with a wave of my hand, I pulled up a stool for him to sit on, and with hesitation, he gently let the towel fall. The scratches on his legs were already healing without scarring, and the gash on his thigh shed little blood, but those were not the things that I was staring at. Sitting limp , the bachem's phallus was dare I say notable. Matching the color of his skin, the sack below was several shades darker, and the head was a light pink. The bachem certainly had a degree of girth of length, and his body was void of hair besides that of the hair that grew above his privates. Sitting quickly, he looked away as another blush filled his face, and I went to work; trying hard to not to let my eyes trail down. Meticulously and with a careful hand, I went about scrubbing each portion, and gently dabbed wounds. Placing bloodied bandages aside in an unused bucket, I could not help but notice how soft the bachem was. Though the soap filled the air with the scent of summer fruit, I noted an aroma of almonds that was emitted from the bachem. Sweet yet not too overbearing, his scent reminded me of his personality in many ways. Leaning his head back, the bachem's luminous blue eyes locked with mine, and I fixated on those seas as I ran my shampoo covered hands through his hair. Dumping water to cleanse, his hair shined with a natural sheen, and I gulped as I moved to the last area. Bending down on one knee, my hands gripped the shaft of his phallus, and I gently massaged it with soap. Hurrying quickly to lift the shaft upwards to cleanse the parts below, he and I were shocked as the shaft began to harden, and it grew impressively. Pretending to not notice, I sponged the area, and rapidly stood to get a towel. An awkward five minutes ensued as I dried his body, and another ten passed as I dressed and checked his wounds. From what I saw, he would have very little if not unnoticiable scars, but I noted that the wound on his thigh needed much looking after. Mashallah, I was relieved when the last article of clothing fell onto his body, and he turned to me with an expression of a child about to be scolded. "I am sorry about-" I cut him off "Nay bachem, it is but a natural reaction." He nodded "I've never been so nervous." "It is something you must get used to for now. After two weeks, you will not have to be bathed by me." "Oh... good." He let out a sigh of relief. I smiled at him, and tried to take my mind off his naked flesh "Are you hungry bachem? The soup should be done by now." He shook his head " I am not hungry yet, sir." An idea flashed into my mind "How about you and I spend the day in the library?" As soon as I said it, the bachem's face brightened "I would like that." Smiling, I took his arm over my shoulder once more, and we did our best to make our way to the library. As we walked, I muttered the mid-afternoon Salat under my breath, and prayed that Allah forgive me for not praying in the hall. At last, we finished the tedious trek to the library, and with a smile, I pushed the door open to agha's prized possessions. It was a place that I hardly entered, but as the grand door swung inward, I smelt how often agha was in here. It smelled just like him inside, and as I scanned the room, I found several blankets piled in a chair. I had suspected that agha spent many nights here, but I never knew it was to such an extent. Looking at the bachem, I saw a look of sheer awe as he limped into the room, and for the first time, I saw his eyes glisten intensely, his smile broad as he took it all in. Making his way to the nearest shelf, he ran his fingers on the numerous covers, and grabbed one from the shelf. Rushing over to help him sit in Kaka Omir's worn armchair, the bachem opened the book in his lap, and looked up towards me. "Do you know that this book is one of my favorites?" "What book is that bachem?" "It is a collection of poems by Francesco Petraca, he was known for his love poems and sonnets." "I did not know you spoke Italian bachem." "I don't, but it is very close to Spanish." "That is one of Kaka's books." The bachem smiled and ran his fingers down the cover "It was very well loved." "Are you hungry yet?" He shook his head "No, sir." "Alright, I need to bathe myself bachem, why don't you stay here and read?" "Will you be back soon?" "Of course." "See you soon then sir." Leaving him to his business, I soon found myself submerged in the warm water of the western style bath, and I leaned back my head in relaxtion. Closing my eyes, I let my head wander, and my thoughts were suddenly filled with the bachem's body. From his dark nipples, to his nearly smooth skin, and finally his manhood that grew under my touch, I felt myself blush from how vivid my memory of his body was, but soon memory turned to imagination. The bachem was the first man that I had ever seen, the first man that looked as handsome as him, but my mind teased me by letting agha slip into my thoughts. Oh agha, I always wondered what his body looked like, and I could only put the bits and pieces that I had seen. I could just imagine agha... the light sprinking of hair on his chest that trailed down to a dark bush, his honey eyes teasing me as he took me into his arms, and oh yes... agha's manhood. My fingers wrapped around my own phallus as agha's perfection filled my thoughts, and my orgasm came and went. Letting the water drain from the tub, I stepped out of the tub with nothing but a towel to cover my body, and made the chilly walk to my room. Letting the towel fall, I could not help but look at myself in the full length mirror, and I sat on the bed in wonder. Would my body be good enough for agha?.... Allah forgive me for thinking about such things. It was haram to even think about him and the bachem even... but my heart told me differently. Letting out a sigh, I put on a fresh set of clothes, and entered the library silently. Sitting where I left him, the bachem laid with the open book on his lap, and his head was leaning towards one side in sleep. Quickly going over to adjust his head, I removed the taqiyah and laid a cushion so that he sat upright. Gathering a blanket from the pile, I covered him, and pressed the blanket to his form. Yawning myself, I laid several cushions and blankets upon the floor, and decided to lay for a nap. _______________________________________ I am sorry for having such a profound delay between chapters readers, but it is quite tedious to correct all my bad English. Thank you to all my supporters, and hopefully, the next chapter will not be long.