Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2006 16:17:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Aihu Fist <aihufist@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Life As a Whoring Student Part 23

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reproduction without prior consent from the author is allowed.


Now that I had been soiled with sperm allover my body and face they kind of
retreated, satisfied with the release of so much sexual build up of tension
and lust. I rubbed the spunk into my skin which was mingled with sand. My
skin became instantly reddish of irritation. It was about eleven, the sky
was packed with stars and it was wind still. Not one leave of the palm
trees was moving.

-Tu muy bueno (you very good), the nice one whispered in my ear.

He couldn't say it loud, I guess, or his friends would have considered a
faggot too. No one was a faggot in Moroccan thinking. They fucked me, they
were the men and I the female because I gave them my ass, and now I had
allowed that I would never be able to get my masculine state back. I was
worse than a whore to them. No boy past puberty in Morocco would ever suck
or let him fuck by men or boys. But I had. I reached for my T-shirt and
shorts, but Abdelatif said `leh' (no). I was to remain naked.

-Tu eres una puta nuestra y putas no necesitan ropa, he said with a smirk.

I didn't understand too much of what he said, but I grasped that I was to
remain naked because I was their whore boy. Luckily I was in a warm
climate; one could actually sleep in the sand and not feel cold at all. But
they wouldn't let me sleep either.  Two of them left us, Ceuta accompanied
them. Hence, I remained with Abdelatif and the one who liked me. Why they
went and what for I wasn't told.

I turned on my stomach and put my head over my forearms and tried to
sleep. Abdelatif and the nice one had a conversation which began with a
whisper, which occasionally erupted in a high pitch phrase. I didn't look
up, I wasn't bothered; I was just tired and hungry and wanted to forget
where I was. I think I dozed off until I got woken up with a violent slap
on my butt. Instantly I rolled on my side and to my back and faced Ceuta
and the others.

-Comer (eat), he said and handed me some bananas and a piece of chicken.

I grabbed eagerly the precious food. They sat down next to me and all we
did was fill our stomachs without a word. However, we observed each
other. I was highly on guard, didn't trust them a bit and I had decided to
exclude Ceuta from a possible friendship.

-Ena, enti Tanger, Ceuta shouted between to munchings.

I raised my eyebrows and he repeated the same sentence.

-Enti, he said and pointed at me and -ena, now pointing at him...Tanger and
directed his finger to the horizon.

We were to go to Tangiers?

I shook my head violently.

-Ena leh Tanger, I spoke. Ena Belgique!

Now they all roared in laughter. Abdelatif got up, crouched in front of me,
grabbed my dick and pulled me up on my legs with it like it was a leash.

-Chouf (look), he said to others, holding my dick in a vice and pointing at
my chest.

-Mi esclavo (my slave), he added. Un puto belga que vamos llevar a Ceuta
primero y despues hacia Tanger (A Belgian whore that we will take to
Tangiers).

 In his other hand he had my sexy undies crumpled up in his fist. They all
laughed once more, but not so much the nice one. He was more withdrawn into
himself though he stared with big eyes at my stretched out cock.

I thought of how to escape from here, but I saw no chance, maybe tomorrow?

Abdelatif, picked up my clothes went back to his place and put them under
his head as a pillow. Then he beckoned me to come and lie next to him. ON
my right side I had him and on the left the nice one, at my feet Ceuta and
the other two lay on two different dunes a few meters away form me,
chatting with each other. They didn't seem tired at all, they made jokes
and such, and occasionally they hugged each other in a very macho way.

Next morning, at sunrise, we got all up and I was allowed to dress. First
we bathed in the sea, all of us naked; there was no one to be seen on this
stretch of beach. There were no restaurants or catering for tourists. A few
crops of rocks stood out. The Arabs left me in peace for that whole
morning. After the bathing we ate some more bananas under the palm
trees. Abdelatif, I figured out was the alpha male, I got nervous when his
gaze of preying eyes dwelled over my vulnerable body. He had slept with his
clothes on like all of them. Then Without a word he shoved his jeans down
over his knees, exposing his boxer shorts with flower motifs on hem. No one
said a damn thing; they only followed his movements of his hands. Something
in those boxers was definitely alive and kicking. Like a lion king he
leaned back on his back with his head in the sand. His right hand found the
huge volume in his boxers, gave it a few strokes up and down, after which
he cupped the bulge. He let out a long sigh and yawning, stroked the lively
thing once more and said:

-Tu puto, ven y chupe, rapido (you whore, come over here, fast).

All faces like his had fixed their gaze on me, just as I was to dive in my
undies. I darted over to him sank on my knees tore his boxers below his
balls and god; those were heavy and full of hair. His cock of course was
cut, real fat, caramel colored with at least twenty centimetres of length;
the girth was too much, for I couldn't even get my fingers around the
shaft. My lips found it hard to go over it; I stretched them till it hurt,
as if they were going to tear apart. I had tried it yesterday too and I had
been lucky that he had been more interested in fucking me than getting
blown; one reason why I didn't say a thing. Yet, now anyone of the
bystanders could see I couldn't do it properly. The only solution he found
was pushing my face with all his might deeper over that jerking beast of
his. Hence, my teeth scraped like a razor blade over his gland. I got
actually stuck on his cock at one point unable to move my jaws wider. He
broke out in laughter when he noticed that, and beckoned others to come and
watch how he had screwed my face and not getting any further. He then
slowly pulled out and asked me to jerk him off. While I did that Ceuta came
over behind me feeling me up and readying himself for a pleasure dig
in. Abdelatif saw that but kept quiet. Ceuta came in like nothing, his cock
was thin like a chilly pepper, and he moved and turned and pushed and made
high noises to impress his macho friends of his masculine performance until
the alpha male shouted:

-`Safi (enough)'!

I thought he was going to take over from him, but very much to the
contrary, he just urged me to make him come, he grabbed my wrist spat on
his own dick head and moved my wrist up and down, so fast I got tired of
it. Then, god almighty, he nervously trembled throughout his body and
spunked heaps of fresh sperm over my wrist and into my face.

I had to lick it up all, the others commented it in Arab idiom, but I had
no clue what they said except for the usual `zamel' (faggot) mutterings.

At last I was allowed to dress and get ready to leave the place with
them. He was indeed the alpha male, because not one of them had requested
or dared to even touch me when he was on me. Had he told them so? I could
spot the jealousy in their looks and occasionally when he didn't see it,
someone would pinch me in my butt or grab my groin.

Half an hour before we set out Abdelatif had sent a scout. To find out
what?

On the way I observed them to be very amicable, at times holding hands or
arms around the shoulder. I was walking in the middle, always being watched
by one of them. I had people looking at us; again...a very blond boy with
five Arabs was not a common site.

Moroccans were despised in Spain, even then, with the nickname of Moor
(Moreno in Spanish). But Andalusia province was once again being conquered
and owned by the Arabs. Now the sheiks bought or built real estate on the
Iberian territory with their petrol dollars. From Malaga to Algeciras large
condominiums rose up at the horizon. The economical and political Moroccan
refugees risked their lives on crummy shaky fishing boats, all the way to
Ceuta to escape the squalor and miserable lives they led in their home
country. Hassan II was a dictator who didn't allow any free speech or
criticism on his rule. Prisons were filled with the poor, prostitutes of
both sexes -minors and adults-, drug dealers and users.

We hung around a bit at the plazas and markets, picked up leftovers from
restaurants and vegetable markets.  I scoured the whole place and waited
for the opportunity to make and escape. But the four guys would not leave
me alone, not even for a pee.

Then the scout came back and led us through a criss-cross of narrow streets
all the way up at the foot of the mountains. It was awesome here; the
scenery was virtually blocked out because of the skyscrapers. Torremolinos
here at the back of the scrapers still looked like it had been the sixties
before hordes of tourists changed it into a tourist trap. An old station
car was parked in front of the house we went in. We climbed the stairs,
skirting the walls painted with mushrooms of humidity. All the way on the
second floor Abdelatif knocked on the door. It took a while before it
opened up. Through the spy hole we saw some movement in front of the other
side of the door.

-Si?

-Adel, Abdelatif replied.

The door scraped the floor. We faced a tall Arab in his early thirties. He
let us in and showed us the living room, which had Arab carpets, a huge
long couch, and copper plates on a table in the middle. He wore baboosh
slippers and traditional Arab trousers with the crotch hanging at knee
level. Two more Moroccans sat at the table. My `keepers' greeted them in
the Arab way saying `aslema', shaking a hand which they withdrew
immediately to touch their own chest. I don't know why they greeted this
way; I found it a strange way of saying hello. I of course didn't greet
that way...I reached out my hand, but neither accepted my gesture. They just
indicated me to sit down on the couch. I was the only one who wore shorts,
even Ceuta had long trousers. I think they find it unmanly for a man or boy
to show legs in their culture. I felt the urge to cover them with the
length of my arms, so I bend over and put my elbows on my knees holding my
head in my hands like that...for fear of attracting more looks I had my
thighs very locked to each other.

In a minute the whole place was filled with sounds of noisy voices. The
debates were passionate and lively, the gestures in the air, the use of
hands and fingers, the whole body language was like a spectacle. Again I
felt left out and out of place her. They were drinking tea, they didn't
offer me a thing, and I didn't exist. The two men at opposite of me at the
table shot glances at me though. Then the cacophony died out. The two men
left to the third floor. My keepers sat next to me on the couch. The guy
who had opened up turned around and told me to follow him by a mere moving
of his index finger. I looked at Ceuta and the others...they said nothing.
Abdelatif just said:

-Zid' and hinted his head at the big guy.

Obviously Abdelatif was no master here. I got up from the couch and kind of
followed the guy dragging my feet into another room. The man closed the
door behind me and locked it. I got startled to hear the noise of twisting
the key in the lock.

He looked at me intently put his finger over his mouth and said:

-shhhhhh.

The room was empty but for another rug on the floor, a water pipe, a dish
with grapes, apples and mandarins on it and a tea pot with two glasses and
mint in it.

 On the wall hung a huge banner with an Arabic text on it, which was
meaningless to me. Only the sound of silence was heard. He had a window the
size of an average bible.

-Tu parles Francais (you speak French)? He nearly whispered.

-Oui, un peu (yes, a little), I answered softly.

-Tres Bien, mon ami. Moi j'ai vecu en Belgique et France (I have lived in
Belgium and in France). Soyez le bienvenue dans ma maison (welcome at my
home), he spoke gently.

His face was oval shaped, he had long eyelashes, small very black twinkling
eyes, a prominent nose like Abdelatif's but more elegant. He was clean
shaven. I understood most of what he said, as I had studied French in
Flanders as my second tongue. So not to weary the reader with my instant
translations I will continue to write all in English.

-I heard much about you, Alex and I am so happy to have you here as a
special guest.

-Thank you, sir.

-Please, my dear, no `sirs' for me; just call me Hassan, that's my name.

Hassan didn't take his hands of my shoulders while he continued speaking. I
looked down at the rug and at his fine slippers. Slowly I raised my eyes
crossing the crotch of his strange pants and realized that something in
there was pushing forward.

-Hassan who told you about me then?

-Well, your friends of course.

Now his left hand had my chin pulled up to make me look at him. His other
hand was stroking my left shoulder then coming down to my elbow, my forearm
then my hand. He held my hand between his thumb and index. His thumb made
circles over my knuckles. Of course I could imagine what hey had told about
me so I didn't ask.

-Would you like some tea, Alex?

-You know my name?

-Yes, of course is that surprising?

-No, but the others never call me by my name.

-How do they call you then?

-I don't remember.

-How strange you don't remember.

-Well sometimes they call me `zamel'. What does it mean Hassan?

-Nothing special, it is just a nickname when one has a foreign friend like
`pote' in French.

-I was reassured by that, but not totally convinced that he wasn't lying to
me.

Zamel sounded too uncouth and they always said it when they wanted to fuck
me.

-You like some tea, Alex?

At last, I thought.

-Yes, sure I chirped.

-We Arabs always treat our guests with respect. Allah says we have to treat
them as our own brothers.

 He led me by the hand like I was a young prince, and asked me to be
seated; he crouched and poured the hot water over the mint leaves. Like him
I sat in a lotus position, the only difference was that he had long pants
and I shorts. The legs of my shorts were wide and I saw him peeking at
them. I was wearing my undies but they were nylon made and transparent with
a fluorescent sheen on it Embarrassed about it, I readjusted my
legs. Strange I thought that after all this whoring of mine I could still
be so prudish about exposing my body parts.

He kept on talking non stop like a water fall. He talked about his country,
how he missed it, about his family, enquired about mine. I made up a few
lies, I had learned not tell all my past to strangers. I nodded and drank
up the tea, of which I was served several cups. As he talked he put his
hand on my left leg and stealthily caressed it getting closer to my
undies. For some reason I felt overwhelmingly happy, I felt a wave of lust
raging through my body all the way from my groin. My eyes sight seemed to
blurr a bit, I squeezed my eyes quite off, rubbed them, but it didn't get
better. My speech seemed to slow down and my tongue kind of got dry hence I
had difficulties in not slurring my speech.

-Are you tired, Alex? I heard him ask.

-Yes, quite a bit.

-Must be the heat, my dear friend. Why don't you relax and lie down a bit.

I believed him all right. He got out of the room quickly and came back with
a few pillows and some incense. Now the room was reeking with Indian
perfume of amber scent and I lay stretched out with my head on two soft
pillows. I felt cold, that was strange too, so he got up and brought a thin
blanket which he laid over me.

He sat there looking at me and continued his babble, which by now sounded
like music. I had the surges of uncontrollable laughter and he accompanied
me in it. Then I calmed down, felt hot and threw the blanket off me. I
could see by the light from the window that it was getting late.

I wasn't gone, I remember he lied down too, face to face and became bolder
in him touching me. I just stared into his eyes and had become very
lethargic. I saw him getting up straddled himself over me on his knees lift
my torso from the floor and take off my shirt, soon after he rolled down my
shorts and my underwear.

-Zouin, he said looking at the undies.

He even smelled at it. The smile on his face said everything about the
man's intentions. He got off me lowered his Arab baggy pants and stepped
out of them. He sported tight black briefs, which he hurriedly peeled
off. I was looking at him from a frog's perspective at a full ball sac that
seemed to weigh a ton and over which towered an unmistakable horny cock
pulling itself up in seconds. Hassan had stopped talking, took a wide
spread stand with his hands on his hips. He looked so powerful like the
soccer players after they have made a goal. It made me feel so vulnerable,
but I had no strength to even open my mouth and say something to him. I
just smiled back. Now he lowered himself and on hands and feet he crept
near me.

-You are so sexy, Alex. I think I will make you mine tonight. Are you
happy?

-I nodded, because I felt so euphoric like nothing could harm me.

His cock stood like the tower of Pisa next to my face.

-Just take it in your hand Alex, he told me sweetly.

I got hold of the warm organ let my hand squeeze it to feel the muscle
respond, I loved that when you squeeze a penis. Hassan closed his eyes and
was in seventh heaven just me touching him there, so I continued to play. I
rolled my thumb behind his cock head where the little belt ties the
foreskin to the head.

-Please lick it, Alex. It will make it better.

So, I pulled the cock at horizontal level and for some reason as if he knew
I had no strength he cupped my skull from the back and brought me close to
the head. I licked it like an ice cream which made him moan. Then he got up
on his knees and down again his butt touching his heels. He repeated this
several times and every time I had a lick at it. A few droplets of pre-cum
showed up.

-Take in it your mouth, he said.

His cock was long but not as fat as Abdelatif's, so I took it without any
fears. I gobbled it up like nothing and though my tongue was lazy he didn't
get angry, he just moved back and forth with gentleness. For a few minutes
he kept this gentle speed before he pulled out. Like a baby he crawled to
my feet, spread my legs and had his fingers exploring my butt. He wetted
his fingers again and again, rubbed his dick head a few times with the same
spit, back in he went now probing my anus whose sphincter was out of job as
well. I was totally relaxed, maybe too relaxed. He moved in between my
thighs, scooped my butt with his hands and drew my anus nearer to his
vibrant cock. He pushed his wetted thumb into my hole and pushed the soft
mucous coated entrance flat down.

-I am coming in you, Alex, you`ll be ok, he whispered and winked at me.

The snout of the cock was the first thing I felt, I didn't contract my
muscles or close my anus, one time, he moved in like it was the easiest
thing in the world. Gradually he began to slide in and out; I felt his bush
of hair tickle my balls. He caressed my ball sac and then groped my cock
which was totally flaccid. But he made it hard. I felt like a sleeping bag
being tossed around, I was weightless, floating in space with my eyes
closed. It seemed very much as if my whole body was being stretched inside
out in all its fibres and nerves. But the horniness I experienced was also
present in my head, for saw tons of boys and cocks making love. However, I
had to pay attention to what was going on between my legs. I caught a fiery
Hassan bucking and biting his lips, totally excited, rolling his eyes,
bumping my ass like it had no name and yes, finally he squirmed and came in
shudders in me. I had to close my weary eyes again and saw more cocks and
even some naked women, something I never dream of, but they were there
sucking cock. The squeaking of the door brought me back to what was
happening in the room. She remained open; Hassan had gone without a word of
goodbye. I was still too tired to move, so I remained on my back

 Maybe he had gone to the loo or something. My eyelids shut down, this time
I had didn't open them up for a considerable time, and I actually lost
count of time. The room was dark; I could only make out the stars through
the tiny window. A pull at my cock had me instantly awake.

-Hassan you? I asked with a wavering voice.

-Yes, the guy said, abruptly.

 I had difficulties recognizing the voice.

I didn't bother because my perceptions had changed ever since I had drunk
that tea. My cock was being worked at harshly, which made me question the
Youngman's identity.

I heard whispers and I couldn't make out any face. My butt cheeks got
palmed and pinched and torn apart in a savage way, like some impatient
young boy in hurry. I yelped when I felt something hard coming in me. Yes,
Hassan was going in me for a second time?

-Hassan?

-Oui.

So it was him. Now he was moving up his tempo, I felt his rod was fatter
and more like stabbing into me, but still I had no resistance and let it
all happen. I heard him sigh and breathe heavily through his nostrils. The
noise of his loins slapping against my flesh was very loud and clear and
seemed to echo in my head. I obliterated the view of the room. Then all of
a sudden a kind of bitter cry filled the space; my cheeks got pinched
violently while at the same time the cock left my ass.  Whispers and a
`shhhhhhh' replaced the eerie silence. I was surely imagining it.

>From the ground I got pulled up from the waist down; my legs landed over
my head, a violent jab in ass made me jolt ma hands to my cheeks. They got
straight away pulled apart; shortly after I felt a piercing pain and
thrusts of a fatter cock. I was sure now that I was being fucked by more
than one guy. Hassan had left me alone with them. Maybe it was the two guys
who had gone to the third floor. They fucked me all right and I had to let
them do it. I didn't enjoy their go at me, fortunately it didn't last
long. Finally I fell into a deserved long sleep.


You can write to me aihufist@yahoo.com and check my other stories at
Prolific Authors at www.nifty.org