Date: Sun, 20 May 2012 17:34:31 +0100 (BST)
From: Hasan Khan <hasancutkhan1987@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Julian in Afghanistan Part 3

Life in a military camp for men who did not have to go on patrol beyond the
perimeter or take part in exercises in the villages and towns of the region
would easily become claustrophobic. Julian was starting to get itchy feet
as he contemplated yet another day of minor medical consultations and
treatments. The army was a good paymaster but he missed the excitement of
emergency surgical nursing, the rush and hurry of a hospital back in
England. After lunch he decided to take himself off and explore something
of the town of Tashmir to which the unit had been posted. Julian set out on
the kilometre walk to town wearing his military fatigues rather than
civilian clothing having decided that even if the region was not a tourist
hotspot it would be better not to be in dress which could arouse unwanted
attention from the local police and Afghan military.

Tashmir had certainly suffered in the earlier stages of the war and there
were few buildings which did not bear the pock mark scars of bullets. Many
had their upper floors abandoned in the wake of mortar and shell attacks
which had damaged roofs and first or second floors. Even the mosque had not
been spared and the minaret had lost not only its filial but was missing
many of its decorative additions. The building had a run down appearance
despite it being the focal point in the town for so many of the male
inhabitants. Dry dust had settled for many months around the doors and
windows, seemingly no one to organise maintenance. Where once there had
been colourful geometrical designs there were now only traces of art work
and peeling plaster.

The few shops on the main street were miserable hovels selling just basic
necessities to the local population. The "butcher's shop" no more than a
lean-to with a fly ridden display of pieces of mutton and goat and a few
un-plucked chickens whose necks had been halal style cut and bled. The one
establishment that showed any sign of promise was a coffee house, the aroma
of thick Turkish blend coffee wafting out into the street. Through the
window, trays of pistachio and sugar, almond and spiced cakes and sweets
tempted those who had the money to spend, and they were few.

Staring at the delicacies Julian felt a tap on his shoulder and somewhat
startled turned around to see his handsome Afghan acquaintance, Abbas
Muhammad looking resplendent in his police uniform and handsome as ever,
his deep dark eyes and black hair softened by the bright sunlight. "My
Nazreni friend. It is surprise to see you. You like sweet cake? Come we
buy." Abbas Muhammad pulled Julian into the tiny coffee shop and over to
the sweet counter. "You like pistachio and almond? I buy both." The
transaction was quickly done in a language of which Julian understood
nothing.

"Come we go to uncle's house. I have three hours to be free. Uncle has nice
house near. He go to Kabul to buy things for shop. His servant will let us
in and make tea for us. We have tea together and talk."

The two men set off and within ten minutes were on the edge of the town in
front of a walled property and knocking at a heavy door set into a
recess. After a good deal of hammering by Abbas Muhammad's fist an old man
slowly opened a spy hole in the door and gaze out at the
visitors. “Is me Abbas Muhammad, the nephew of my uncle." Evidently
the servant recognised him and with a bow and a scrape welcomed the two
into the domain. A well tended garden with trees, bushes and even flowers
in this inhospitable, mountainous, war torn environment made the place seem
like a little paradise on earth. The house itself was a once storey villa
spread out behind the ornamental trees and bushes. Grinning but obviously
pleased by his vicarious fortune, Abbas Muhammad informed Julian
“Uncle is rich man here! He have big shop which sell to little
shops. He want me to work with him. I prefer the policeman life."

The elderly servant showed the two men into the salon, a large room with
its closed curtained windows, which on sunny days would surely be open to
the garden. The room was sparsely furnished, just a couple of large divan
couches, a couple of chairs and a number of small tables but all set on
luxurious woven carpets which combined Arabic scripts with geometrical
patterns or animal portraits.

In the native language, Muhammad Abbas spoke to the servant, handing over
his packages of sweet cakes.  The retainer appeared ten minutes later
with a silver tray of porcelain cups and a steaming brass pot a mint
tea. Out and back again he arranged plates of the miniature cakes on the
carved tables. Julian and Abbas Muhammad settled down to an eastern
"afternoon tea" in a setting as far removed from the dining halls of a
military camp as could be imagined.

The divans were luxurious: deep and soft and covered with exquisitely
embroidered cloths which "uncle" had presumably paid for with a
king’s ransom. Julian began to appreciate the beautiful simplicity
of the room. How crowded an English suburban living room must seem in
comparison: TV, stereos, ornaments and photos, books papers and magazines,
drinks cabinet and the rest. No, this was a salon for peace and quiet, for
hushed conversation or a family gathering without material distractions.

The beautiful simplicity of the furnishing was nonetheless seductive and
Julian's mind began to wander to thoughts of how the room would make a
perfect setting for the second part of his initiation into the mysteries of
eastern man sex.

Seated close on the divan Julian edged nearer to Abbas Muhammad as they
sipped the sweet mint tea and nibbled at tiny pistachio cakes. Julian
raised his arm to caress the neck and shoulders of the handsome
Afghan. Running his fingers through the dark silky hair he whispered into
the ear "You are so astonishingly beautiful. Today I want you to possess me
as I did you last week when we first met" Reaching down Julian started to
stroke the firm thighs which opened further at his touch. Slowly advancing
his reach he spread his palm over the bulge in the police uniform trousers
and felt for the heavy balls, hidden beneath blue serge and black
briefs. Slowly and deliberately he traced his fingers along the heavy shaft
which lay dormant in the Afghan's groin.

“You have the most beautiful cock, you know. Remember how you said
that you had never seen a Nazreni circumcision? Yours is both wonderful and
fascinating to me. Tell me about when you were circumcised. Was it like me,
in a hospital or did you have to go to a mosque or somewhere special? Was
it a doctor or an Iman who did for you? Do tell me, I so want to
know.”

Abbas Muhammad responded by massaging Julian's groin and kept his silence
for a time before beginning to talk and recount the story of his
circumcision.

"It was end of kite festival. I grew up in Pashwat, on other side of
mountain. Every year we have big feast when one boy wins. I win when I am
nine. One day soon after I win the brother of my father came to home and I
hear them talking. Many times I hear word `circumcision’. My mother
is in kitchen making big bowls of pilau and mutton stew, cakes and
sweets. Â After time my father take me to the bathroom and tell me to take
off clothes. He bathe me in warm water with sandalwood perfume in it. It
was very nice to smell then. After he give me new pyjama trouser and long
white shirt to wear. Then we go to my uncle who say `It is time. Today
Abbas Muhammad you will be purified by circumcision'. But I did not know
what he really mean. Three of us go to the centre of town to the place
where I have my hair cut every month. What we doing here I think, because
only last week was I at barber shop.

When we get into barber shop the man who cut my hair tell my uncle to sit
in the chair and then my father lift me onto his knee to sit on big
towel. He pull up my shirt and take down the pyjama to my legs. I was not
too much frightened in that moment but when the barber start to touch my
penis I start to shake. Uncle took my legs and held them very hard down the
side of his legs and my father put his hands on my shoulders. Then barber
try to pull the skin on my penis. It is very hurting. He push and pull the
skin little bit each time to show what is inside. It hurt too much when he
uncover most of the little nut. Each time he pull tight in front and try to
push it back again until all the nut is out. I tell you friend, I start to
cry because it was sore. It get even more hurt when he push foreskin more
down my penis as far as he can push it. It look very red and pink inside,
what I never seen before.

Because I cry father wipe my eyes with silk cloth and tell me to be brave
and start to say how soon I will go with men to mosque to pray. But I ask
why this man hurt me. He say nothing. Barber pull up skin to where it
always is and rub his fingers around the nut, up and down and then start to
pull it back again and up again many times to make it very loose. I think
in my head one moment he will pull it back and make it stay back for
ever. He did it so many times that my little penis begin to get hard but
he carry on too many times.

When he stop my penis still hard but he leave it and then wrap very cold
damp cloth on it and squeeze very hard on the nut. Now I am frightened
again and it start to go soft. He say nothing to me or to my uncle or my
father but he go and get something which I cannot see properly because
father start to wipe my face and put hand on forehead to wipe sweat. When I
look down again barber pull very hard and stretch foreskin. He put wooden
clip on it and I start to cry because it pinch the skin very tight. Father
hold me strong with his arms on me and barber use long razor to cut off
skin."

My friend, I try to scream but father has hand on the mouth and I try to
cry and shout but cannot. Uncle hold me too tight when barber take off clip
and push red blood skin down my penis. You do not know how much it burn. It
hurt all through my stomach and legs when barber pushes that skin down
penis, more than when he cut. When he finish he shake powder onto it wrap
it in bandage which soon is red, so he put on one more and tell father to
let me lay down very soon and sleep. How can I sleep my friend when burning
hurt so much.

Julian instinctively wrapped his own arms around the doleful faced Afghan
who appeared to be reliving the pain of that day. "My dear Abbas Muhammad,
do not distress yourself. Think only that now you have an organ that
thousands would envy. I suppose tradition and religion often come at a
price of suffering but you have braved the pain and now you can enjoy the
fruits."

Abbas Muhammad began to speak again and this time more cheerfully told how
after the rest of the morning asleep on his bed he had been carried into
the feast which his mother had prepared. Friends, relatives and neighbours
had plied him with money and little gifts whilst he wriggled on a little
bed, specially set up in the main room of the family house. Yes, the day
had been worth in the end, but at what price. "Uncle who held me for
circumcision is uncle who live now here."

"On your uncle's divan then, you will consummate our relationship" murmured
Julian, not supposing for a moment that the handsome creature in his arms
understood half the phrase.

At last the cakes and tea were finished and Julian began his very
deliberate seduction of the Afghan policeman, whose eight inches of
circumcised cock he intended to have ploughing his bowels before the three
hour leave was up. Julian started to undo the buttons of the uniform shirt
and caress the dark nipples on the hairless chest of his policeman. Moving
downwards he soon had the shirt fully open and started on the belt, buttons
and zip of the tight uniform trousers, all the time pushing his lips
against the Afghan's cheeks and lips. Abbas Muhammad showed no hesitation
in lifting himself up to complete the undressing and within a short space
of time both men were naked, locked in embrace, groin to groin and lips to
lips in the semi light of the salon.

Julian fell to his knees to take the cut cock into his mouth. How different
it was from his own, not only in length but also in texture. His English
hospital circumcision had been done so low that his shaft was uniform in
colour and texture from root to crown. This Afghan god had dark coffee
coloured body skin below his scar and silky smooth tissue, lighter in
colour above it. Julian worked on the two textures, paying special
attention to flick his tongue around the scar where the two contrasting
lengths of flesh met at a darker brown ring. Â Unable to take the whole
eight inches into his throat Julian nonetheless practised his art on the
upper shaft and teased the crown of the cock to the limit. The deep, long
piss slit quivered as the tip of his tongue probed it and Abbas Muhammad
shuddered with delight as the sensitive membranes inside thrilled to the
touch of the Englishman's magical tongue.

Being totally unprepared for the afternoon's encounter, Julian had nothing
which would serve as lubrication for being fucked. He could prepare himself
for fucking only by fingering his own arse from behind in the hope of
producing some natural lubrication to supplement his saliva which now
drenched the Afghan cock. Slowly turning his back to Abbas Muhammad, Julian
reached down to guide the hard cock to the cleft of his buttocks. The
Afghan pushed himself against the thin frame of the Englishman and held on
to the pale body firmly as he began to push his rock hard helmet against
Julian’s ass bud. Julian let out a gasp as the penis began to
penetrate his anus: saliva and sweat did not provide enough lubrication for
fucking and his arse lips clamped against the intrusion.

Abbas Muhammad drove his way inwards pausing for just a moment when he had
succeeded in getting his broad ridged helmet into the tight arse hole. He
let the muscle tighten around the head of his cock, conscious of
Julian’s deep breaths and trembling buttocks. Grasping Julian
tightly at the hips he started to plough his way into the chute and rammed
his way home until his ball sac was wedged against Julian's
backside. Pulling himself out half way, Abbas Muhammad’s cock tore
at Julian’s chute and caused him to cry out as the friction burned
his tender ass flesh. Abbas Muhammad took no notice of the protestation and
began to jerk himself in and out of the tender ass hole pushing Julian face
down on to the divan as he did so. Releasing the Englishman's hips he
spread the white legs further apart to be able to make deeper and more
vigorous thrusts into the prostrate body.

At last Julian’s chute began to produce its natural lubrications
and the roughness of the fucking gave way to the smooth gliding of the hard
flesh inside him. Moaning now with pleasure instead of pain Julian cried
out his desire for Abbas Muhammad, his policemen lover. How often he had
fantasised about being fucked hard and deep by some big circumcised Afghan
cock. Now it was for real. He bucked his body up and down to encourage his
Afghan stallion to take him and release his creamy load into his tight
English arse.

Abbas Muhammad began to slow down and was about to withdraw in order to
turn Julian onto his back in order to take in yet more deeply when the
secret tryst had been observed. Looking to his side saw the smiling face of
a youth watching silently but nonetheless rubbing at his groin as he spied
on the two naked men.

"Yusuf, what are you doing here. How did you get in here?"

"I had come to clean up the leaves in the garden and tidy the place ready
for Mr. Ameer’s return. The house servant told me that you were
here and I came to say hello. The door of the salon was a little open and
when I saw you I could not go away."

"Well, you have come at the right moment. I think our friend would enjoy
giving you something to remember this afternoon. He's a doctor from the
Nazreni military camp. He enjoys giving pleasure to our country’s
manhoods. Come"

Julian very aware by now of the handsome youth’s presence
understood not a word of the dialogue which was taking place above his head
but was not totally oblivious to the possibilities which could lay ahead
with the addition of a third cock to the action.

"My friend, this Yusuf. He my friend. He work to clean police camp some
days. Today he work in garden of my uncle. Sometimes he play with me. I
think he want you play with him."

By now the youth’s clothes were scattered on the floor and even in
the dim light of the salon Julian could see the beauty of another
circumcised Afghan cock swinging before his eyes. The semi swollen cock was
not dissimilar to Abbas Muhammad impressive organ in its markings. Already
Julian detected a similarity in the style and finish of the circumcision
and wanted nothing more than to take the cock into his salivating
mouth. Yusuf started to wank his cock and bring it to a thick seven
inches. The crown was bullet shaped and slimmer in circumference than the
heavy shaft which bulged outwards below it.

Abbas Muhammad silently edged Julian to the end of the divan and lifted his
legs onto his strong shoulders whilst Yusuf got up on to the couch and
positioned himself across Julian's chest lifting the English
medic’s head and shoulders ready to mouth fuck the Nazareni.

His arse hole exposed by the stretched buttocks, lifted up off the divan,
Julian felt the full force of Abbas Muhammad's cock the moment it plunged
into him. Gripping in the sides of the divan he felt every inch of the
thick organ as it rammed its way up his chute and back again. Abbas
Muhammad varied his tempo and rhythm in such a way that Julian was quickly
transported into a delirium of pleasure. Simultaneously, his head was being
bobbed back and forth onto the thick shaft that Yusuf had pushed into his
gaping mouth. The eighteen year old was obviously not inexperienced: Julian
kept his eyes on the cut shaft as it worked its way in and out of his
lips. Turning his mind from the cock violating his arse he contemplated the
scar line line which appeared and disappeared as Yusuf mouth fucked
him. Had the youth gone through the same torments as Abbas Muhammad, the
moment of his circumcision? Had he sat an uncle’s knee whilst some
elderly barber sliced

 at his tender foreskin? Leaving go of the edge of the divan Julian reached
for his own cock and began to wank it imagining that he had been the first
to take the newly circumcised cock of Yusuf and kiss away the pains and
soreness of Islamic initiation.

Abbas Muhammad drove himself into Julian with long deliberate strokes and
from time to time pulled himself out completely, intent on giving Julian
the pain and pleasure of a renewed entry through his tight arse bud. Unable
to cry out because of his mouth stuffed with Yusuf's hard flesh Julian
bucked and squirmed on the divan each time his arse was forced open.

Eventually, the thrusting began to slow down but with each penetration
Abbas Muhammad went to the hilt slamming his ball sac against Julian's
thighs. Bringing himself out just to the ridge of his cock crown he felt
the moment of release upon him and once more gathered speed as his massive
cock started to spurt into Julian chute. Within seconds Yusuf began to
release himself into the Englishman's throat, his creamy juice both sweet
and sour in Julian’s mouth. Licking his lips and smearing himself
with the cum that had dribbled from his mouth, Julian grabbed
Yusuf’s cock to wank and squeeze out the last drops of its precious
milk.

 Julian himself had still not come when the two Afghan studs had exhausted
themselves on him. Abbas Muhammad at last withdrew and with his cock, drops
of creamy sperm which spread their way along the cleft of Julian’s
buttocks. Abbas Muhammad reached towards Julian’s groin grinding
his large hand over the ball sac and it tightening orbs. Yusuf worked
Julian’s tits rubbing and squeezing at the sensitive nipples to
send shocks through his chest and down to his groin before suddenly turning
himself around and taking the six inch circumcised English cock into his
mouth. Abbas Muhammad fingered at Julian’s slippery arse hole Yusuf
proved himself to be a master of fellatio and brought the medic to a
shuddering climax, Julian flooding the young mouth with his pent up juice.

Relieved, released and emptied the three men fell into a deep embrace on
the divan and caressed one another's exhausted bodies, Julian’s
white flesh, even in the half light of the salon contrasting with the
golden coffee brown of the Afghans. Spreading their spent juices over one
another and tracing their fingers around lips and nipples, gently fondling
the now flaccid cocks and spent ball sacs, they luxuriated in the sensual
pleasure of male flesh against male flesh.

At last, Abbas Muhammad led the way to a bathroom where somehow the three
managed to share the spray of a single shower head quickly effacing from
their bodies the traces of drying sperm.

Dressed and knowing that the three hour leave would soon be over, Abbas
Muhammad was making to leave when Yusuf began to speak in what sounded like
earnest and anxious tones to an uncomprehending Julian. Abbas Muhammad
turned towards Julian to translate in his broken English, what had passed
between the two Afghans.

"Yusuf has younger brother, Faiz. Faiz thirteen years and uncircumcised. It
is shameful for him at such age. No one here to do operation. No doctor
come here for long time and no barber left after war. He say you medical
man and you must help."

Hesitatingly, Julian gave his reply. He had never performed the surgery
himself. Only doctors could do that where he came from but he had assisted
at both civilian and military circumcisions before coming to Afghanistan
and was willing to do his best, if Yusuf and Faiz really wanted to put
their confidence in him to do a circumcision. If at all possible then,
Yusuf and Abbas Muhammad should bring Faiz to the English base on Friday
afternoon. Abbas Muhammad quickly relayed this information to a smiling
Yusuf who replied that they would be there quickly after the Friday
afternoon prayer at the mosque and that Inshallah, Faiz would himself be
able to join them at the war torn mosque the following week able to take
his proper place among the men of the town.