Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2003 13:45:35 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Behrang and Jacob

			     BEHRANG AND JACOB
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     At 10:00 p.m., most of the cubicles were empty, the screens either
dark or carrying dancing bologna screensavers. Here and there were a saucy
bouquet of daisies, a framed photo of a family, an off-beat coffee
mug. Small attempts to turn the ubiquitous cubicles into something unique,
though on the whole, they were lost causes.
     A voice was murmuring from one of the cubicles, and Jacob smiled. It
was Behrang as usual. He had contacts in the Middle East through his
family, and maybe he had stayed for some late-night telephone conference on
the other side of the globe.
     Then the voice got louder and Jacob realized that it was in
English. And Behrang, calm placid Behrang, was furious, his normally
low-toned voice raised up to a near shriek. "Well, then, since you don't
know enough to even wipe your own ass-crack, write down my number and have
somebody with a little hair on their dick call me back!"
     Jacob hurried over as Behrang wrapped up with his name (he had to
spell it three times for the person on the other end of the phone) and
telephone number and hung up. Jacob reached Behrang's cubicle just in time
to see Behrang slam down the telephone and lean back in his chair, slumping
languidly, legs sprawled wide and arms hanging off at forty-five degree
angles, hands cupped in repose like floating lotus blossoms in a pond.
     "I hope that wasn't one of the company's clients." Jacob said, only
half-joking. Nobody got a job with Stern & Mather unless they had some of
their own clientele, but by the same token, nobody worked on this floor
with its sea of cubicles unless their client base was too small to make it
on their own yet.
     Behrang turned the chair around, looking like some Arabian prince
lolling about on exotic cushions, smiled easily. "No. But I shouldn't have
gotten mad." Despite his pure-Persian dark good looks, Behrang was
American-born. He carried dual citizenship, USA and Iran, for his father
had been the local consul prior to the Shah's downfall. Now his father was
long out of work except for speaking with ex-patriated Iranian royalists,
and Behrang made his own living by administering the rather substantial
assets of these ex-patriates, some of whom had returned to live in Iran.
     "What's going on?"
     "Shareholder's meeting of my fund." Behrang explained. He only had the
one fund, and Jacob knew it, a special fund for his more devout Muslim
customers which avoided "riba" or anything that earned or charged interest,
even such mundane things as CD's or bonds. Jacob had never found out how
Behrang made any money out of the fund. Of course, he was working here.
     "What are they voting on?" Jacob asked.
     "Whether to keep me on as their manager." Behrang said. "Seeing how I
have soiled my hands by dealing in usury here on this job, though I have
diligently never let it touch their fund in any way. The question is
whether my use of the firm's computers which do deal in usury is
contamination enough."
     Jacob whistled. To be fired as a manager of his only account...Behrang
would lose his job here as well if that happened.
     The anger Behrang had shown earlier flashed again. "I cannot find out
where they are meeting. I cannot get the son of a camel at my uncle's firm
to connect me to where they are meeting, even without telling me. I cannot
find out anything about what is going on. I can only sit here and
wait. That camel dung of an assistant has promised me that he will have my
uncle call me when the meeting has ended." He turned around and punched the
keys of his computer savagely, the Hong Kong market popped up on his
screen, it had just opened a short time before. He pored over the numbers
there as if doing so may open some window into an uncertain future.
     Jacob regarded the strong, broad back all tensed up like a crouching
panther, and his hands reached out without conscious thought. Caught
Behrang by the shoulders and began to massage those stiff, rock-hard
muscles.
     It wasn't that uncommon for people to give each other a back-rub on
this computer-heavy job; Behrang quickly relaxed into it and sat back up in
his chair. Jacob dug his fingers into those stiff, clenched shoulders, felt
the muscles slowly relax and lengthen and warm under his probing fingers
and thumbs.
     Behrang was making some warm sounds of relaxation and pleasure. They
struck Jacob as almost a purring sound, and he snickered. "That's my little
Persian kitty."
     Behrang laughed, too, and the sound was smooth and comfortable,
accepting. "That's me. Rub my stomach and I'll roll over onto my back." he
said.
     "Do you promise?" Jacob teased and without waiting for an answer,
leaned over and ran one hand down the smooth, ridged chest and onto the
rippled stomach. His palm made a circular motion as his cheek brushed
Behrang's ear. "How's that working?"
     "Lower." murmured Behrang.
     Jacob's hand went down below the navel, feeling the smooth
abdominal. There was a time when his fingertips just brushed the area
below, and felt the hardness beneath that. "Is that it?" Jacob whispered
huskily.
     "Lower." Behrang urged him.
     Jacob's hand surged over the stiff pole in Behrang's pants, gripped
and fondled it through the cloth, Behrang hissed like a snake with the
intake of his breath, then released it in more audible sounds, his moans
like some grumbling carnivore intent upon its food, the husky growls
warning others away even as it feasted on the hot flesh, the crackling
bones, chewing on the thick fur of its prey.
     Behrang's arms went up and around Jacob's upper chest, held him and
Jacob's hands rubbed, rubbed, hard, harder, rub, harder, and Behrang hissed
and with a sharp near-roar he broke away from Jacob, stood up. His leg
kicked the rolling chair away from between them, it rebounded off the
cubicle wall and then off Jacob to roll away again, like the ball in a
pinball machine, with the same dull roar of steel rolling over the hard
floor.
     Behrang stepped up and now his body pressed against Jacob's, and Jacob
felt the strength of his arms and smelled the musk of his body and tasted
the nectar of his lips with his own! Those dark eyes never closed in the
kiss, Jacob saw them peering into his own throughout, dark, deep, burning
black coals that lingered on the flames of their lust and glowed like twin
embers.
     Behrang's hands went down and caught Jacob's buttocks, pulled them
against his own crotch and Jacob again felt that fiery poker, now trying to
stab him through the layers of cloth, and with Behrang a bit shorter than
him, it dug into the junction of his thighs, found a slight purchase there
and throbbed in its need as Behrang's hips swiveled and thrust against him,
squirming in a burning dance with his penis likr a sword that thrust at
Jacob's bowels.
     Seeing that fire, understanding the need to control this as Behrang
could control nothing else just now, Jacob lowered himself before this
dusky, vital, dark-haired, dark-eyed man, watching as Behrang fought his
belt open, his fly undone, his zipper lowered, his boxers parted and with a
burst of dark curving excitement, this deep-brown dong pointed at him with
its avid, purple head and glistening eye.
     His hand took Behrang's prick, feeling the hot, near-burning power of
it as it pulsed in his hand, he skinned it back and up and the glans slit
poured a thick stream of clear energy at him, which won him a shuddering
"ahhhh!" from Behrang.
     "Come on, take it." Behrang murmured to him, it was an order but one
gently given, not peremptory, and Jacob reached out with his tongue to
taste the tip, his taste buds burned with the hot stream of precome that
impacted upon them with a fury of salty, slippery, sizzling juice! He let
that flavor guide his mouth and he gently, slowly wrapped them around the
plum-colored glans and slid them over the dun-colored foreskin and down the
tan-colored shaft that was ribbed with thick blue veins just beneath the
skin, and as he reached the limit of his ability on that first, nearly dry
voyage, Behrang groaned at him. "Uhhhhhhh!"
     Jacob gripped the foreskin tightly at his furthest reach and holding
tightly he pulled back, letting the brown velvety skin slip only slowly
away from his reach, bringing most of it with him, feeling that hard knob
at the crest buckling and fighting the skin, and then relinquishing and the
foreskin burst over the glans and Behrang shuddered, "Oooh!"
     His lips caught on the flare of this dark prong's head, and he let it
catch there, savoring the musky flavor of the salty fluid pouring out upon
his tongue, and then he slid back down, slowly once again, and this hard,
tawny cobra of manflesh slithered upon his tongue and down his throat, and
this time he felt the balls touch, barely touch, his chin, the hairs
tickling him, and then he was at his furthest reach once again, and he held
it there, then pulled up again, a warm ripple of satin flesh touching his
lips as he did.
     They were alone in this ocean of cubicles, an island of light in a
sea-and-sky of darkness, and in this oasis of light, Jacob milked slowly
and steadily upon Behrang's prong, Behrang rewarding his efforts with small
sounds, droplets of encouragement and delight, ah, ah, ah! It was intimate,
it was isolated, it was wonderful, even as Behrang began to moan more
intensely, more intently, he was building in his passion and Jacob looked
up into those eyes, those powerful dark eyes, and he bent to his task with
a renewed will.
     Behrang moaned, he writhed, he squirmed in Jacob's mouth, sending that
hard prick jabbing at his cheeks, it was like holding down a tiger, and
Behrang caught his head, crammed that dick in hard, deep, strong, it slid
down Jacob's mouth like a sword-swallower's foil, and as it boiled within
his throat, Behrang clenched his teeth like rows of pearls, he moaned like
the rising wind, he thrust like the raging ocean, and the heat of burning
jism seared Jacob's gullet, he was taking Behrang's load deep, too deep to
taste, too deep to resist, so deep he could only look up into Behrang's
eyes once again, as the fiery seed churned out of that lusty man above him
and he worked his throat and it rippled against Behrang's pud like a camel
moving under its rider.
     Done, panting, Behrang held him tightly still, and then pulled out,
Jacob felt that hefty prick pull out of him with resistance yet, it was a
thick, slimy snake that exited his body, and then Behrang was free of him
and the spit-soaked prick slapped his hairy thighs and saliva drooled off
of it in a thick, gray, streaming rope of slime.
     Jacob coughed, cleared his throat, wiped his lips with the back of his
hand, stood up and looked at his erstwhile Arabian lover.
     Behrang was considerate, at least in hindsight. "Are you all right?"
he asked, all concern and solicitude.
     "I'll live.' Jacob grinned at him. "You were really wrought up,
weren't you?"
     "I was. I am." Behrang admitted. "This waiting is damnable. How long
can they talk about this, they have been at it for at least four hours."
     "I don't know, but I'll wait with you." Jacob said. "I know I'd
appreciate a friend if my fund threatened to fire me."
     Behrang's lips trembled and he stepped into Jacob's arms again, and
this time he was a little boy in need of protection and comfort. Jacob gave
him that, feeling the dusky youth in his arms, and now he was the elder and
the stronger and the one in control. Behrang felt it, too, and he looked
up, even though taller, he was hunched over and bent-kneed, he looked up
into Jacob's eyes, and he murmured. "Fuck me."
     Jacob smiled at him as a father might to a son. "I thought you'd never
ask." he said.
     Behrang knelt now as Jacob undid his fly, Jacob's cock as it dove into
the air was immediately seized and nurtured, softened, slickened by
Behrang's lips and tongue, then Behrang stood and let his trousers fall to
his knees, he turned around and presented his beautifully globular buttocks
to Jacob. "Fuck me." he said again, simply.
     With a hardened, spit-slippery dong, Jacob didn't hesitate, he stepped
up and guided his prick into that narrow, hairy, black-dark crevice. It
took a bit of hunting in that jungle for the small cavern into Behrang's
body, but on his third stab at those wonderfully toast-colored buns, Jacob
found the skin giving way to him.
     Delicious! That was the only word Jacob could think/feel/sense as his
cock slid into the warmth and the moistness and the
near-painfully-delightful heat of Behrang's ass. It didn't resist him in
any important way, it was like this anus had been opened and stretched for
him before, he only had to enter it and it welcomed him. Jacob found the
way unimpeded all the way up until his eight inches were completely
imbedded in Behrang's sultry ass.
     Delicious! His cock was assaulted on all sides by warm sensations of
heat and stimulus and the crackling joy of sexual signals that crawled all
over his dong, bringing it all to life on him at once. He loathed to pull
back from this source of total joy, but the trip was delightful as well,
his cock floated upon waves of joy, it sparked surges of passion that
traveled throughout his body.
     Forcing himself to be slow about it, forcing himself to be gentle as
well though this ass seemed to scorn such a need, Jacob slow-fucked
Behrang, and Behrang's head was thrown upwards in the joy of being
possessed, the hair on his head was only slightly askew, a lock here and
there out of place, giving him the look of a stallion; he was tamed, but
only barely, only barely, only the masterful could ride him!
     And Jacob was riding him, his hands held him in place while his hips
slapped at Behrang's buttocks, Behrang panted with the light joy of
post-orgasmic submission, his own passion was behind him but in this he
could extend and exult in the afterglow, for the sex was not over yet, and
as long as it went on, his body would remain in this triumphant gleam,
basking in the light of satiety, and again those ripples of pleasure came
from his lips, the sound Jacob called a purr of his Persian kitten!
     But this was no handful of domestic cat, this was a full-grown animal
of dark, feline beauty, he was one with it and it was with him, not in
subservience, but in equality, and his cock throbbed with the knowledge of
this gift of equals, and he felt his climax growing inside of him like a
slow-rising flood. He forced himself to remain in a rhythmic embrace,
keeping the tempo even and smooth, though his body craved instead to jerk
and writhe and rut upon Behrang, and somehow he didn't want this to happen,
he wasn't some animal pumping Behrang's butt, he was a man taking this man
as his own, it had to be special, it had to be right, it had to
be...climactic!
     Like a surge of heated water about his body, his orgasm found him,
caught him, enveloped him. He had to cling to it tightly for it threatened
to slip away from him even as his body tensed to spray its package into
Behrang's body, only discipline and strength kept him rising on this surge
of delight and at last, at long last, slow and warm and jubilant in
victory, he gasped and his sperm gushed out of him, pouring rather than
spraying, flowing rather than spurting, and it flowed into Behrang and it
took possession of him in this way a peppering, jerking climax never could
have, it melded them together rather than severing them in ejaculation, and
he groaned and clung to Behrang tighter, rested his body upon Behrang's
back as he felt the last of his seed flow into Behrang, and then there was
only himself, a simple man holding this dark god of being, and he felt
successful and yet abashed, not quite ashamed, but rather at a loss as to
how to redeem himself after this ignominious use of Behrang's body by pour
slimy juice into his buttocks.
     Then Behrang laughed, and that laugh redeemed everything, Jacob
chuckled in his own turn, and he caught his breath, and said, "Well, now we
can wait all night if we have to."
     "Yes, we can." Behrang said. "Sit down, my friend."
     "What about you?" Jacob said. "I can fetch a chair."
     "No. Take my chair." Behrang said.
     Jacob understood when he did so, Behrang's chair was large and stable,
not the average office chair, and it let Behrang sit comfortably in Jacob's
lap, though it tilted back at an alarming angle, there was no instability
about it, and they cuddled like this.
     "What are you going to do if they let you go?" Jacob asked after a
time.
     Behrang shrugged. "I have my own money. Some, anyway. I guess I'll
work out of my home until I can build up my stake."
     "How will you do that without...usury?" Jacob asked.
     "Not all Muslims ascribe to the tenents of riba." Behrang pointed
out. "If I did, I couldn't be working here."
     "Oh." Jacob said.
     Behrang's telephone rang. It was just out of their reach. It rang
again. And again, as Behrang didn't move.
     "That's the call." Jacob said on the third ring.
     "I know. All is as Allah wills." Behrang sighed, and now he moved. "Be
with me when I'm done." And he picked up the phone and said, "Behrang
here."
     "I will. I promise." Jacob said. Behrang could move in with him if he
needed to. Hell, even if he didn't need to. He wondered how his family,
mostly Conservative Jews, would feel about his taking a Muslim lover?
     Ah, well, he sighed to himself, managed a smile. All is as Allah
wills! Oy, gevalt!
     One of those two ought to cover it!

				  THE END
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		  E-Mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM