Date: Sun, 11 Jun 2006 11:13:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: Aihu Fist <aihufist@yahoo.com>
Subject: My life as a whoring student 22

This story is copyrighted once it is seen on the web. Don't reproduce
without my consent.


Ceuta and I were starved, but we were free at last. For the whole day we
roamed the fields, we found hundreds of trees with ripe pomegranates. It
was not only succulent food, it was healthy too. I stuffed my stomach with
so much I could barely walk anymore. We knew it would have been silly to
hang out at the beach, for that was surely the place where they would look
for us. As the sun was setting, we sneaked back into town and mingled with
the gypsies vending their wares in the small streets, there were loads of
tourists about. I had my clothes in a knapsack and Ceuta wore his ragged
jeans. Neither of us knew the town well. By the time it was nine in the
evening we were sitting on a staircase which wound down to the abandoned
beach. Few people ventured out there and not many used these stairs. Ceuta
was with me all right, but I still had no good feeling about his loyalty to
me, after all I fucked him quite a few times. Now that we were free it was
a different setting all together. We must have looked really lost or
something, but we liked it at the stairs, so far away from the humdrum of
tourists yapping loudly drinking their beers at the bars.

-What shall we do, Ceuta?

-Nothing. Sit here.

-I am hungry...

I made gestures of eating.

-I would enjoy a chicken leg, really and some French fries, I tried.

He shrugged his shoulders. The wind blew through my blond hair, I lifted my
head, closed my eyes and took in all the air I could get. My thoughts went
to Belgium, to my mum, Belgian food, my school. But I was still thousands
of kilometres away from it. We lingered like that every day around the same
time on the same place, we begged for food, got titbits from the
restaurants. Nobody really was interested in us, though some must have
found it strange that we were together...a Moroccan kid and a Caucasian
adolescent. Neither of us knew what to do, we thought even for sure that our
pimps had given up on us. Ceuta always pointed to the horizon and said:

-Ceuta, Tanger...good.

One night as we sat there we heard noise of somebody running down the
stairs. There four of them.

-Run, they shouted in Spanish. Police are coming!

Though we had nothing to do in this story we ran too, as we didn't want any
hassle with them. We ran with our tongues on our hearts for like a
kilometre way south of the beach and ended up near a dune. In the distance
we saw skyscrapers all lit up like Christmas trees.

We were still gasping for air; the cops had lost out on us. I leaned back
against the dune, closed my eyes for a minute and heard the others breathe
deeply. I realized we were six now, of different ages and the guys were
much older than me and of Arab origin. Ceuta had turned into a parrot the
way he was interacting with them. I figured they were Moroccan too.

I sat there with my knees against my chest and my knapsack next to me. I
hadn't said a thing yet or even glanced at them. Ceuta, laughed heartily. I
shot a glance at them, their faces lit by the moonlight. Then they turned
to whispering, snickering. I felt out of place, I didn't have curly black
hair like them and I wasn't really dark skinned and I couldn't follow their
tale or language. I closed my eyes again, pretending to be tired.

-Alex, one spoke.

-I had to open my eyes and look at the person who had called my name.

It wasn't Ceuta who had called me, but one of the four. He sat in front of
me, he was dressed with the latest jeans and a tight T-shirt. He had a big
mouth and very fat lips and his nose was like that of a hawk's beak. I drew
my knees closer to my chest.

-Enti zouin, enti zamel, he spoke.

I had no clue what he said, but the rest of them applauded and cheered,
even Ceuta. He was a different boy now; he had chosen to sit with them,
with his kind. I was on my own. I smiled to the young guy who could have
been two years older than me, sixteen seventeen? He kept on talking to me
in a determined manner, to convey something of a message that seemed rather
urgent for him. He repeated the same words. I smiled once more and looked
at Ceuta, who ignored my looks. Instead he looked at the other three and
again they snickered. The others were about eighteen I could tell.

-Moi (I) Abelatif, the boy in front of me said and advanced on his knees in the
sand near my feet.

He placed his hands on my knees and tried to wedge them. Instinctively I
resisted and clasped my arms around my knees with both arms.

-Leh..leh (no), Alex...enti (you) zamel (faggot), zouin zouin, he said
firmly and broke my resistance on the spot.

He got hold of my legs and pushed them down so that I had my legs stretched
out and under his ass. He then continued to pull my whole body below
him. The sand made me glide like I was on ice. I was only wearing a T-shirt
and a flimsy pair of shorts, warm enough for the night. But I lay under the
guy's butt with him sitting on my stomach now. I felt his hands reaching
for the legs of my shorts, they moved to my crotch and brushed slightly
over my cock's head. He felt some reaction and pinched once more until it got
harder. He was heavy and I made him understand that. So he got off my
stomach and looked at me with an evil plan in his eyes.

-Ceuta Zouin?

I think I remember Ceuta having used that word sometimes, if I was not
wrong it meant beautiful.

I didn't know what to say...so I nodded. Yes, Ceuta was handsome.

Now they all laughed again.

-Ena (I) zouin?

That had to be: I handsome?

And I thought he was, so I nodded again. Now they doubled in laugher. It
kind of annoyed me, because I felt that they were not taking me seriously.

-Aya (come), he beckoned to his mates and Ceuta.

They all jumped and came sitting next to me at all sides. I was encircled
by five kids.

I wanted to raise my body, but Abdelatif said `leh' with his finger in the
air in a 'no' gesture. He exchanged a few words with them in Arab upon which,
one held my head crammed between his hands, the two others grabbed my arms
before I could lift them and he kept my legs down.

-Zid (go ahead), he commanded Ceuta.

Ceuta came squatting over me zipped his fly open and brought his rigid thin
cock outside. Abdelatif chuckled when he saw him doing this.

-Abre boca (mouth open), one spoke in Spanish behind my head.

I knew what was expected of me and I had no qualms, I had sucked him off
many a times. Ceuta came and led his boy's penis into my mouth and began
sucking him.  The others spurred him to go faster or give it to me. I am
sure the traitor told all to them; probably nothing of himself of how he
had been fucked by that Negro once. I just sucked on, but it lasted too
long for them as they pulled him off me. He was allowed to jerk off over
me. They were so fascinated by this boy's jerking off, he let his ooze fall
over my face and they applauded. They saw my tent in my shorts and that was
all proof they needed to think of me as their whore. They tore my shorts
away and next my sexy underwear I was till wearing since I had left the
brothel. It passed through the fingers of each boy.

 I was stark naked and defenceless. All of them seemed to be bent on the
same thing and they keptarguing what to do first. Now they had all dropped
their pants to theirknees and alternately shoved their hot rods into my young mouth.
This wasprobably more then they could handle. Because Abdelatif wanted me all for
himself and nearly a fight broke out with strong verbal insults. They spat
on their cocks and rubbed them like hell, barely one had slipped out of my
mouth or another went in full force.

Hence, Abdelatif grabbed my legs and twisted me around on my tummy. T-shirt
was pulled over my head, and I could only rest my brow on my forearms in the
sand. I was sand all over, it must have been pretty difficult in trying to
grind me, but they did anyway. I felt how they parted my cheeks; another
spat in my crack, a finger went in, picked my hole like his nose. I heard
Ceuta's high pitch voice comment on the research they did on me. Another
guy had his hand through my long wispy hair and squeezed my skull nearly to
pulp. Not much time was given to think, they made me sit on my knees and forced my
head to look ahead of me at the dune on which one of them had taken place.
The dune had turned into an imaginary throne.
The level of my mouth was exactly what he needed.
He rammed a sweet fat rod of about twenty centimetres through my gully while
in the back I got nearly pushed over such were the humpings and climbing my
sore ass by all of them. The ones who had been behind switched with the
ones in the front, each one took a turn and that's how they remained
happy. Fortunately I was used to being humped for nearly two years, they
couldn't get enough of me, and they were so hot that a few of them came
twice on e in an hour.

Did I enjoy? Some of it, I guess. The other guy had a nearly black body
like a Negro. He sat there on that dune, his pants down, the balls black
like a crow, when he began to masturbate in front of me and I saw that
white pre-cum leaping out of that oozing slit of his cock head, I was in
heaven. He nearly looked like he had fallen in love with me. He was not
brutish with me; he stroked my chin a few times before he plugged my
lips. He put it in and took it out and worked on it again till it got
harder, till the veins were visible, he laid his hand under his own balls
and let them roll in one hand near my nose. I had to sniff them; he did
that with his nose so I would understand. Then he winked at me, stuck out
his tongue and had it looping around his fleshy lips.

-Zouin, he said lovingly.

Behind I was assaulted ass if I were a fortress to be taken. They had no
idea what it was to fuck a boy; they just wanted their semen out. But I
helped them nevertheless by squeezing my sphincter harder ever harder so
that they would feel something.

The last boy to come on me was one called Omar. He yanked my cock ( very rare for an Arab to do) while he
beat his meat into my ass. He yanked it hard and let me come in the sand.


I groaned while I came, tow others finally unleashed their spunk right on
my body while cursing me. I know it was cursing, because it didn't sound
nice to me, though the expression on their faces when they came was that
out of sheer orgasm, a statement of their maleness.

We remained like that naked or half naked in the sand. I was looking at the
moon, they at the sea while lighting a cigarette. Even Ceuta smoked one. I
felt soiled once more and the same question came back into my head: How
long would I continue this kind of whore life?


Write to me at aihufist@yahoo.com and read my other stories at Prolific
Authors at nifty.org