Date: Fri, 8 Jan 2010 04:31:22 -0800 (PST)
From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Confessions on a Saturday: Chapter three

Chapter Three

Exploring the Unknown

	For days after that Saturday night I recounted the events of that
night. "Why am I doing this?" I thought. "Why am I fixating on this man?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	A week later, on the following Saturday, I was contemplating what I
would cook myself for dinner when the phone rang.
	"Hello."
	"Prof? It's me . . .Imran."
	"Hello, Imran. Nice to hear from you."
	"Ah . . . are you going to be home tonight?"
	"Yes," I answered.
	"Can I come over?"
	"Of course you can."
	"OK, bye, then," and he abruptly hung up.
	"Strange," I mused. "Wonder when he'll be here?"

	Ten minutes later, my query was answered when the door bell rang. I
opened the door and there stood Imran carrying a large, brown paper bag.
	"I'm glad you let me come over," he stated handing me the bag.
	"Why wouldn't I let you come over," and added, "What's this?"
	"Hope you like Chinese!"
	Laughing I said, "Love Chinese, but am lousy with chop sticks."
	"Me too," he laughed.
	"But, to tell the truth, I like Pakistanis better."
	My innuendo was not lost on Imran. He looked at me and smiled.

	We sat at the table and quietly ate the delicious choices he had
made.
	"So why this wonderful food?" I asked.
	"Well, you provided me with a great dinner and I felt I had to
reciprocate. Besides, I can't even boil eggs!"
	"Hah! I'll teach you!"
	Smiling, he stated, "You've taught me quite a lot all ready."
	"And?"
	Imran laid his fork down, folded his hands and looked directly at
me. "Prof, I've been thinking all week long about what happened last week."
	"Me too."
	"And, I must say that what happened, particularly the wondrous
feelings I experienced can't be altogether wrong."
	"But, not right?"
	He merely shrugged his shoulders.
	"So you forgive me?
	"Forgive you for what? Prof, I could easily have said, `no,' but
. . . but, I didn't. I allowed it, and in that, if there is blame, I am
equally responsible. If it was wrong, then I must accept my share of the
wrong. But, I don't think it was altogether wrong."
	"Imran, if I had `used' you, it would have been `wrong.' God knows,
I wanted you. But I would not have forced myself on you. If you had `used'
me it would have been `wrong.' I placed my hand on your thigh last Saturday
and things happened. Was that `wrong?' I don't think so. Was it `right?' I
don't know. It happened. Two people came together and gave each other
immense pleasure. Is that `wrong?' I think not."
	Imran had begun to play with his food as I spoke. I could see that
he was considering what I had said.
	Then, quietly I asked, "Can you stay?"
	Imran looked up at me, "Oh, I want to, but I can't. I have a major
paper due next week and need to work on it. I set aside two hours this
evening to have dinner with you. That was all I could spare."
	"I understand, but, you have an hour-and-a-half left," I answered,
hoping.
	Imran thought for a moment, then answered, "OK." He got up from the
table and quickly walked down the hall towards the bedroom.
	I was a bit taken back by his apparently precipitous action, but
soon followed him. As I walked into my bedroom, he had finished removing
his shirt and singlet and was kicking off his shoes as he undid his
pants. I quickly followed suit.
	He lowered his pants and then his boxers. His luscious cock was
arching outward, expanding is spasmodic jolts. He turned to me, a
questioning look in his eyes.
	"You're beautiful," I commented as I stepped up to him and enfolded
him in my arms.
	"Humpf," issued from deep inside him as we kissed.
	We fell to the bed, still lip locked and our hands explored each
other as if it were the first time. In that short time, our cocks were rock
hard and sensitive as hell. Fingers explored their length, fondled the
balls and teased the heads.
	Imran snaked down til his head was parallel to my crotch, lifted up
on his elbows and gazed intently at my cock.
	"What are you doing?" I asked.
	"Inspecting. . . . . Didn't have the opportunity last week. This is
the first uncut cock I have ever seen up close."
	"Hah! If you were truthful, it's your first cock to see . . . up
close."
	He looked up to me, smiled and said, "True."
	I watched him as he `inspected' my cock. He seemed especially taken
with my foreskin. . . sliding it up then back down. He lightly held my
exposed head with his thumb and forefinger and slid my foreskin over
them. He leaned over an lightly sniffed my exposed cock head.
	Imran again raised his head and whispered, "I want to suck it."
	Knowing how far he had come in a little over a week, I answered,
"Imran, you don't have to."
	"I want to."
	He opened his mouth and my exposed cock head disappeared as he
clamped his lips around it. I felt his tongue exploring the surface within
his hot, moist mouth.
	"Ahhhh!"
	He pulled off and intently looked at what had just been in his
mouth. Then he went down again and took about a third of my cock's length
in his mouth and began to bob up and down as he had seen me do that past
Saturday.
	"Aieee," I gasped as his teeth raked the sensitive surface of my
shaft. He looked up. "Your teeth are sharp, cover them with your lips
otherwise the pain is too much."
	"Sorry," came the contrite apology.
	He again took my cock in his mouth. He was an amazingly quick
learner as he began to bob up and down on my cock.
	"Ahhhh! Yes. Oh! Imran"
	On one downward thrust, he took nearly the whole length, gaged
violently and rocketed off.
	"Sorry," he apologized as beads of sweat popped out on his
forehead.
	I sat up, clasped his face, gently kissed his lips and said,
"Nothing to apologize for. In time you will learn to take all of it," and
added, "If you want." Then I kissed the tears that the gag reflex had
brought to his eyes.
	"Lay on your back, Imran."
	He complied. I separated his legs and crawled up between them,
grasped his adamantine cock with that glorious cock head, bent over and
swallowed its whole length into my mouth.
	"Ahhhh!" he gasped.
	I pulled off with a pop. "You have the most glorious cock!"
	"Mmmm," came his reply.
	Then I began to suck his cock in earnest.
	He responded with, "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" at every downward thrust
of my mouth.
	Soon he hoarsely said, "I'm getting close."
	I pulled off, sat back and enquired, "Do you want to fuck me?"
	"Yes," came the simple answer.
	I retrieved the K-Y and prepared myself. All the time I was
intently watched by that wonderful man.
	"What are you doing," he asked.
	"You are pretty big and I need to open my pucker to take you,
otherwise it would be too painful." Then I explained, "First I insert one
finger, then after a while I slip in two, and for you, I have to add a
third."
	"Oh!"
	Having prepared myself, I bracketed his hips and lowered myself til
his bulbous cock head popped in.
	"Ahhhh!" we both gasped.
	I waited a moment or two and then lowered myself, impaling my body
on his upstanding shaft. Then I began a slow, rhythmic lifting and lowering
on his fuck pole.
	"Ahhhh!" he gasped.
	"Feel good?"
	"Oh, yes!"
	As I fucked his cock, I reached for my throbbing dick, grasped it
in my K-Y slathered hand and began to fuck my fist in consort with my
raising and falling body. Imran watched. Then, he reached out and removed
my hand and replace it with his. As I ass fucked his cock, he fist fucked
mine.
	It was glorious. What a luxurious feeling! Soon I ascended the
pinnacle.
	"I'm about to cum, I announced.
	"Me too," Imran confessed.
	Then, "ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! Arghhhhh," I shouted as I exploded and
shot streams of cum over Imran's torso.
	My orgasm triggered a spasm of my sphincter muscles, rocketing
Imran into the same realm.
	"ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! ARGHHHHH! Arghhhhh" came his
guttural screams. I felt his cock lurching in me as stream after stream of
his cum was deposited deep in me.
	We collapsed for a few minutes. I looked at the clock and raised
off Imran's sweaty body. His half hard cock popped out of my ass.
	"Ahhhh!" he gasped. "That was so nice. That was good."
	I understood his meaning.
	"We better clean up, shower. You have only fifteen minutes left."
	He looked at me curiously at first, then smiled as he realized what
my statement boded.
	"You shower first," I said.
	"Aren't we going to shower together?"
	"Nope! I don't trust you in the shower," I laughed.
	Imran laughed too and gave me a firm swat on my bare ass as he
entered the bathroom.

	A few minutes later he walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair.
	"Your turn, you shameless, horny man!" and then he laughed.
	As I passed him, I lightly fondled his detumescent cock, than
slapped his firm ass. I took a quick shower and walked into the bedroom as
Imran was tying his shoes.
	"You know something?" I asked.
	"No. What?"
	"Not once this evening did you make any attempt to cover your bare
cock and balls with your cupped hands."
	"Well, I guess I thought the milk has already been spilled. AND, I
see that you have reverted to your old habits too!" nodding at my nudity,
"You shameless man. What would Emily Post say?"
	"I don't give a damn. Besides I think she's dead!"
	"Lucky for you."
	At the door we kissed, not deeply or passionately at first. But, as
we kissed, Imran reached down and began to fondle my cock. The kiss became
probing.
	Imran broke the kiss. "Gotta go!" He looked down at my hardening
cock, reached out and gave it a squeeze before he opened the door.
	"You shameless hussy!" I laughed.
	"You horny sex machine!" came his retort as he closed the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	The next Friday I was walking into the Student Cafe when I saw
Imran sitting alone at a corner table. I had not heard a word from him
since he left my apartment the past Saturday. I grabbed a sandwich and a
cup of coffee and walked to his table.
	"Hi," I said.
	He lifted his head and returned the greeting.
	His face was drawn and his eyes were glazed and a bit blood shot.
	"Paper done?" I asked.
	"Yeah, Just turned it in! Worked the whole damned night finishing
it up. I'm exhausted."
	"Well, frankly, you look like shit!"
	He laughed, "Feel like it too."
	"When did you eat last?"
	"Don't know. Yesterday I think."
	"Here, take this," I said pushing my sandwich across the table to
him.
	He said nothing, not even a "thanks," but tore off the wrapper and
wolfed it down. Then, he said, "Thanks."
	I finished my coffee, without uttering a word, stood up and said,
"Come on. You're coming with me."
	He looked up and wanly admitted, "Don't think I'd be any good. I'm
exhausted."
	"Hey, you crazy Pakistani, right now I'm not interested in your
bod. Gonna take you home so you can take a good shower and give you a
comfortable bed to crash in."
	He was too exhausted to understand me.
	"I don't want anything right now. Sex is the farthest from my
mind."
	I sat back down and commanded his attention. "Imran, you're a mess!
I have a guest room with a comfy bed and its own bath. I'll take you
there. You can even lock yourself in, if you've a mind to. You can sleep as
long as you want and when you're ready I'll fix you something to eat as
well."
	He looked up at me barely comprehending my invitation.
	"Besides," I added, "I don't want sex with a zombie!"
	That brought a wan smile.
	I didn't even wait for an answer.
	"Come on!" I urged and slowly he stood up, grabbed his back pack
and followed me out.

	When we arrived at my apartment, I led him to the guest room,
indicated the bath room and laid out his bath towel while he slowly,
leadenly undressed. I turned down the bed covers. I left him, closing the
door as he walked into the shower. An hour later, I checked on him. He was
covered and sleeping soundly.
	I straightened up the living room and went to the kitchen where I
prepared some tuna salad for sandwiches. I had sliced turkey and some ham
in the fridge. The turkey would be good for him. The ham . . . that would
be for me. Pulled out a bag of chips from the pantry and cut some carrot
and celery sticks. Then I went to the living room where I turned on the TV,
low volume, watched CNN and looked over some papers I had brought home.
	I fell asleep, unwittingly, and woke up around five-thirty that
afternoon. Again, I checked on Imran. He was still sound asleep and
appeared not to have moved an inch.
	I went back to the kitchen, fixed a thick ham sandwich with Dijon
mustard, grabbed a beer and returned to the sofa. CNN was still on as I
returned to the office work I had brought home ate my sandwich and drank my
beer.
	Later, I changed the channel to HBO and watched one of my favorite
movies--"Steel Magnolias." What an incredible cast! At 10:30 pm, I again
checked on Imran. He was still sleeping soundly. I too went to my room and
fell into a deep slumber.
	Saturday morning, I got up at 8:30, showered and shaved before
going to the kitchen to make some coffee. Imran was still asleep, but had
thrown the covers of the upper half of his body. "Never remember sleeping
this long," I thought.
	I scrambled a couple of eggs and drank my second cup of coffee and
cleaned the kitchen. At about 10:00 am, Imran appeared in the door to the
hallway, wearing his boxers, rubbing his eyes and stretching.
	"Well, Hi, sleepy head."
	"Hmmm, Hi. What time is it?"
	"A little after 10:00, Saturday morning!"
	"Allahmah! How long have I been sleeping?"
	"Mmmm, about twenty hours--give or take a few minutes."
	"Geese!"
	"You hungry?" I asked with a grin.
	"Yeah, but I've impose enough. I'll shower, dress and be on my
way."
	"Like hell you will! I've got a fresh pot of coffee, tuna and or
turkey sandwiches and other goodies I fixed for you."
	"I'll take one of each I'm famished," he said with a grin, "But
first I gotta shower. Oh, do you have an extra tooth brush? My mouth feels
like the bottom of a bird cage!"
	I laughed, "There's a new tooth brush and tooth paste on the sink
in your bathroom."
	"Thanks," he said and disappeared back down the hall.
	I busied myself fixing him a platter with a thick tuna salad and
equally thick turkey sandwich. I out did myself and arranged as
artistically as I could the carrot and celery sticks and a mound of
chips. I sat the platter on the coffee table and accompanied it with a
glass of orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee.
	Soon he entered the living room swathed in a thick terry cloth robe
that I had hung in his bathroom.
	"Borrowed the robe from the bathroom. Was going to put on my
clothes, but they were wrinkled and smelled like hell!"
	"Well, the robe becomes you, and that's what it is for," I said,
stating the obvious and nodded to his repast on the coffee table.
	"Damn! Nothing at all like the slop from the Student Cafe."
	"Only the best for you, Sleeping Beauty!"
	"Shit!" he stated with a wide grin.
	Without invitation, he sat down and began to consume what was
before him.
	Not once since he came from his bedroom did he allude to my natural
nudity in my place. Actually, I hadn't planned on it. It was just the usual
way I dressed, or didn't dress in my apartment. I went down the hall and
noticed that he had stripped the bed and neatly folded the sheets and
blanket, placing them at the foot of the bed. His rumpled clothes were
draped over the back of the chair.
	I went to my closet and pulled out a batik bathrobe I had purchased
in Bali and put it on. "Mmmm. Think this is the first time I've worn the
damned thing," I murmured to myself. I returned to the living room just as
Imran was finishing his coffee.
	"Want another cup?"
	"Yeah, it hit the spot." Then he added, "See you've changed your
costume!"
	"You like it?" I asked.
	"Yeah. A bit unusual, not as revealing as the other one" he added
with a smirk.
	Arching my eyebrow I asked, "You like it better than what I was
wearing before?"
	"No comment!" and he grinned.
	I brought him his second cup and after he had finished it, he stood
up, adjusted his robe and said, "Prof, I've really got to go. Get some
clean clothes and straighten up my room. It's a mess."
	"OK, do you want to come back here later?"
	He thought for a minute and answered, "Yeah, I do."
	"You can spend the night here, you know."
	"OK, as long as I don't have to sleep in the guest room!" he said
with a grin.
	"Your wish is my command."
	"Yeah! I bet!"
	He went to the guest room, put on his rumpled clothes and made to
leave.
	"Want to have supper here?"
	"Sure, as long as you don't fuss."
	"No fuss. Do you like steak?"
	"Sure do."
	"Done. Shall we say 7:00?"
	"OK," and he left after giving me a solid kiss.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	The door bell rang at 7:00. I answered the door wearing a chef's
apron, nothing else. Imran came in carrying a back pack.
	"Some juice," I asked?
	"Sure." I turned to the kitchen allowing him to view the whole
brevity of my costume.
	"Damn!" he said, and added, "I'll just drop my pack in the
bedroom," and walked down the hall.
	I got his glass of juice and returned to the living room just as he
entered. If my costume was a shocker, his was stunning. He was wearing only
a bright red bikini thong! I was nearly stunned into silence.
	"Well, . . . now that's an improvement on your boxers," I said.
	"Thought you might like them."
	"I do, but, they are on wrong?"
	"What do you mean?" he asked perplexed and a bit confused.
	"You have them on backwards!"
	"Like hell I do!" then he looked down at the stuffed front pouch
and added, "Well maybe I do!" With that he slipped the thong off, turned it
around and stepped back into it, bringing the string to the front and the
pouch in the back. "Is that better?"
	"Eminently."
	It was difficult finishing the preparation for dinner with Imran's
costume, but luckily most had been done and I just had to put the steaks in
the broiler.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	"Can I say something?" as we sat sipping our coffee after eating
our dinner.
	"Of course."
	"You surprise the hell out of me!" Imran just smiled. "I realize,
Imran, that you've been raised in an atmosphere of . . . conservative
restraint . . . . modesty of expression . . . and dress. But since that
first Saturday, you have . . . changed . . . dramatically."
	"Prof, let me tell you something. I haven't really changed
. . . except . . . maybe for my reaction, my modesty when it comes to
nakedness. The first time I saw you naked, I was . . . well . . . shocked,
dumbfounded, flabbergasted! Your appearance . . . naked . . . was so alien
to me. I doubt that you could comprehend my internal reaction, my
astonishment. I was nearly scandalized. If I was startled at your being
naked, you might imagine how I felt when I stood before you naked that
evening. Yet, I was more surprised . . . at myself . . . when I began to
grow comfortable with our nakedness. Never in a thousand years could I ever
conceive of myself being comfortable with my nakedness, especially in front
of another man . . . another naked man."
	I smiled, knowingly, but said nothing.
	"The second time, last week, . . . I fought to be comfortable,
fought not to cover my nakedness, my shame. And, by the end of that short
tryst, I forgot that I was naked . . . like you were. And tonight, I had
planned all afternoon what I was going to do . . . wear the thong . . . as
a surprise . . .a gift for you. I thought nothing of turning it around
. . . No! That's not true! It was a major effort for me to do that."
	Again I smiled and let him continue.
	"Now here we sit, naked . . . well, nearly naked, having eaten
dinner and talking." He broke into a broad smile, "Guess I've been doing
most of the talking! But, anyway . . .  I'm not ashamed! I'm not
embarrassed! I feel comfortable." Then he glanced down and back up to me,
again smiling, "And I don't even have a hard on!"
	"Well that's depressing!" I said!
	Imran chuckled. "I guess the reason for this is that I feel
comfortable with you. I trust you."
	"Imran, I want you to feel comfortable and I want you to trust
me. You must realize I would never force you . . . or anyone, for that
matter, to do something they were inalterably opposed to."
	"I know. But, Prof, what we did . . . together . . . the sex
. . . was totally beyond my understanding, my ken, and . . . frankly,
beyond the dictates of my unpracticed religion and family beliefs. Yet,
. . . yet I enjoyed it and hoped that it would happen again Saturday last
when I come over briefly."
	"Can I ask you a quick question?" He nodded his head. "Do you hope
it will happen tonight?"
	"Yes," he whispered. " I don't know why! I love when you touch me,
touch my body, touch my . . . cock. I shiver with delight . . . when we
kiss . . . deeply. I love when you . . . rub your hands over my chest. I
love when you . . . suck me. I love when I hold your . . . cock in my
hand. When I enter . . . your . . . ass, it's indescribably wonderful." He
was quiet for a moment. "These things I can not understand. I must be a
homosexual, I must be a gay."
	He was becoming agitated. "Imran, Can I say a few things. They may
help you understand."
	He nodded his head.
	"First a semantic comment. You are using the term `naked'
wrong. `Naked' implies being without clothes in an inappropriate
circumstance. If you didn't have clothes on and walked into the Student
Cafe, you would be `naked.' `Nakedness' implies shame or shameful. If you
are without clothes in a situation like we two have been in, then the term
is `nude.' `Nude' implies being without clothes in an appropriate
circumstance. If a mixed group of friends should walk through my front door
right now, we would be `naked.' If all of them had no clothes on, then we
all would be `nude.'
	"Getting used to your nudity, or any other person's nudity in an
appropriate situation--like in my apartment or in a gym locker room--just
takes time. You have been conditioned for twenty-five odd years. You can't
expect to change over night."
	I deftly untied my apron and stood up, nude. "A little shocked? A
little embarrassed?"
	"Yes."
	"See!" And I sat back down. "As to your being or not being a
homosexual . . . you must realize that there is a whole broad spectrum
between being absolutely homosexual and absolutely heterosexual. The gray
range, between black and white holds infinite, hundreds of millions of
permutations and possibilities. Somewhere in that gray range is the area
that is referred to as bisexual. Unfortunately it is the most misunderstood
of all forms of sexuality. I am bisexual. I have had sex with women. One I
was married to one and with two I had long relationships. Of course we had
sex, and, frankly, I loved nearly every moment of our couplings. It just so
happens that for the present time, I prefer a same sex relationship. You
were engaged, I assume that you held hands, hugged and kissed. You may even
have fondled each other or made love. And those physical contacts may have
been pleasant and were yearned for. Since you have had a pleasant opposite
sex
 relationship, and from what you said, a pleasant same sex experience, then
you are, by definition neither heterosexual, nor homosexual. You with me
and hundreds of millions fall within that fast gray area. We are bisexual."
	And, I abhor the term `sexual preference.' We are what we are as
far as our sexuality is concerned. If I were totally heterosexual and
decided not to have sex with a woman, and certainly not with another man, I
would be a celibate heterosexual! THAT would be a personal choice, a
preference at the time. Being born heterosexual is not a personal choice,
it is genetically predetermined. Similarly, being born homosexual is not a
personal choice, it is also genetically predetermined. AND, being born
bisexual is genetically predetermined. As far as our sexuality is
concerned, we have no choice, no preference, no alternative. A bisexual may
choose not to have same sex relations. That does not make him or her a
heterosexual. He, or she merely chooses a heterosexual path."
	We sat silently for a long time.
	"I'm glad I trust you . . . Thanks."
	"You're welcome."
	With a smirk, "But didn't know you were into sex education!"
	"Ah, there's a lot about me that you don't know."
	"Yeah, I see that."
	"Well now that the lecture is over, how about a little `hands-on'
lab experimentation?"
	A broad grin crept across his face and his eyes twinkled, "Thought
you'd never ask!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	We had a long leisurely love making session that night. Imran's
long sleep the night before allowed him several orgasms. At one point,
while I was kneeling between his legs, bent over his stiff, rigid cock,
swirling my tongue around that flaring, bulging head in my mouth, I ran a
finger behind his pendulant ball sac and grazed that sensitive area found
there. Imran gasped and involuntarily flexed his knees upward and spread
his thighs. I traced my finger down that short path and over his tight
puckered bud. He squirmed. I reached for the tube of K-Y already on the bed
from its previous use and squeezed a small amount on my finger. Anointing
that pucker with the slippery goo, I lightly grazed the tight, pursed
opening with my fingernail.
	"Ahhhh!" came a vocal response.
	Then I presses against that closed portal with the tip of my
finger.
	Imran quickly lifted his head and gasped, "No, Prof! I don't want
to be fucked!"
	"I'm not going to fuck you my sweet man. Do you trust me?"
	"Yes," came the whispered reply.
	"I'm going to do something that will provide you with immense
pleasure. Just relax."
	He dropped his head back and his breathing returned to normal as I
again ministered to his throbbing, lurching cock. Again, I ran my lubed
finger back and forth and around his virginal bud. His body torqued in
eroticized reaction. Again, I applied pressure with my padded finger
tip. He gave no adverse reaction. The third time I applied pressure, the
muscled opening gave way and my finger tip entered up to the first knuckle.
	Imran gasped.
	I held my finger still and after several moments retracted it and
started the whole process over again. The second entry was much easier and
nearly half my finger entered his tight hole before I stopped. The third
time, the complete length of my finger was imbedded into his quaking
tunnel.
	Again, Imran gasped.
	Then slowly, carefully I withdrew my finger partially and
reinserted it.
	An elemental, guttural groan came from deep in Imran's being,
whether from my sucking mouth or inserted finger, I knew not. Then I bobbed
my head and inserted my finger in syncopated rhythm as he began to throw
his head from side to side and twist his body in a state of elevated
eroticism and high excitation.
	"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" came his response. I felt his cock harden
and the bulbous head swell imperceptibly. He was close! I shoved my finger
all the way into his love tunnel and felt that tight swollen gland deep
inside. I massaged it as I went all the way down on his cock. He arched his
back, rammed his heels into the mattress as he lifted his buttocks way off
the bed, driving even deeper into my mouth!
	Then came the explosion!
	"ALLAHMAH ARGHHHHH!" he shouted! Wave after wave of muscular spasms
raced through his body in ever decreasing intensity. His sphincter
convulsed around my finger and his hot, opalescent cum shot from his slit
and flooded my throat. I fought not to choke from the copious discharge.
	Then he fell back, limp and spent. I lifted off of his twitching
cock and licked a viscous pearl off its tip. Slowly I withdrew my finger
and the sphincter snapped shut.
	"Ahhhh!" came Imran's response as his breathing moved from gasps to
a more normal, rhythmic intake of air.
	I looked into his flushed face and asked, "Are you all right?"
	With glazed eyes, he focused on me and muttered, "What have you
done to me?" Then he closed his eyes and fell to sleep.
	I smiled. One thing I had noticed about Imran is that after a
thunderous orgasm his whole being seems to shut down and he almost
immediately falls to sleep. Not long, maybe ten minutes. It's as though his
body needs that time to recoup and recombine with his mind, to come back
down to earth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	After a short while Imran opened his eyes, saw me watching him,
smiled, stretched like a great cat and scratched his ball.
	"Hi," I said.
	"Hi."
	"How are you feeling?"
	With a twinkle and a wink, "How do you think?"
	"I'd say pretty good, after that screaming orgasm."
	"Did I SCREAM?" He asked sitting up and focusing intently on me.
	"Well, not scream, more like the roar of a male lion protecting his
pride! Luckily these apartments are sound proof, although you may have
rattled some dishes next door!" I said with a sarcastic grin.
	"Geese!" And he fell back onto the pillow, then added, "Well any
way it's your fault! I used to be a nice quiet Pashtun boy. Now you've made
me into a screaming sex maniac," he laughed
	I bent over and lightly kissed him on the forehead and asked
quietly, "Hungry?"
	"Famished!" then he asked, "What time is it?"
	"1:30 . . . in the morning!"
	"Geese!"
	We had a sandwich, glass of orange juice and went back to bed and
slept like babies in each others arms.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	I woke up. The sun had risen beyond the horizon and Imran was
lightly snoring, spooned behind me. I felt his erect cock nestled into my
ass crack. Quietly I got out of bed, went to the bath room, relieved myself
and crawled back into my same position. Imran moaned in his sleep and
pulled me close to him. His cock head brushed against my puckered ass. It
felt good in the after fog of deep, sated sleep. I flexed my hips and
pushed against that probe. We hadn't showered the night before after our
various couplings and a residue of K-Y still remained at my pucker's
entrance. I pushed back again and I was infused in a delicious sensation as
his cock head slipped into my love tunnel. That action cause Imran to draw
ever closer sending his probe deeper into me. It felt wonderful as I lay
there with his hard cock nestled inside me. Then slowly I flexed my hips
and enjoyed a soft un-frenetic fuck.
	I felt him push in even farther, his body flexed and he whispered,
"What are you doing?"
	"Mmmm," I moaned, "What are YOU doing?"
	He began that primordial dance, slowly and deeply. After a few
minutes I felt a warmth suffuse me and I slipped gently over the edge.
	"Ahhhh!" I groaned as his mobile cock, messaging my prostate,
causing a soft, but delicious release.
	Then a similar, "Ahhhh!" issued from Imran's lips as I felt his
cock shudder as it vented its pearly load in me.
	We both fell back asleep, his cock imbedded in my ass.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	There is something indescribably delicious when I had fucked a guy
and we fell asleep still coupled, and then waking up still nestled deep in
his warm love tunnel. The same feeling infused my being when Imran and I
fell asleep with his cock still impaling me. When we awoke and he slowly
withdrew his detumescent cock from me, I felt a heart rending loss as well
as a feeling that brought back, in the form of a physical relict, all the
sensations I had experienced the night before.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	Imran and I saw more and more of each other. Frequently we would
lunch during the week, phoned each other daily and usually he spent one or
two nights on the week end at my apartment.
	Interestingly enough in the past when I had met someone and we
clicked, connected and maybe there was two or three days between our coming
together for sex, I would often get the urge and seek out a `quickie,'
maybe a convenient glory hole for release. With Imran I didn't experience
that desire. On the weekends, when he was at my place we naturally made
passionate love. But, there were times where we would just talk, sometimes
long discussions. Exploring each other. Often times this would happen after
we had sported in the bed. After our short, refreshing nap we would just
lay there and talk. Often times over Imran's reaction to a new variation in
our love making. Nothing was taboo as far as our discussions were
concerned.
	One afternoon Imran asked, "What is `Our Place?'"
	I glanced at him curiously. Our Place is a gay bath on the edge of
campus. It's a two storey building with the windows boarded up, a dark gray
exterior and a single door painted green with the name carefully lettered
in gold. Inside it's a typical gay bath--lockers, a large shower area, a
steam room, a sauna, a small gym, a TV room showing gay porn, a number of
small private rooms and a large, dark `orgy room, complete with glory holes
I had been there once, but preferred the `Obelisk' on the other side of
town, a bit more up scale and away from the hustle and bustle of the
campus. I was surprised at Imran's interest.
	"What do you know about it, Imran?"
	"Well I walk by it every day to and from school. Never see much
activity there, except maybe in the late afternoon or evenings, and then
only guys. Late the other night when I was going home from the library I
saw Brad Effington come out of there. I said `Hi,' but he seemed to ignore
me."
	Brad Effington was a certified hunk and the running back on the
university foot ball team. Quite a man-about-campus and a notorious play
boy. There was even talk that he might be drafted into one of the
professional teams. If he was frequenting Our Place, he would do well to be
more circumspect!
	"Well, Our Place is a gay bath, kind of a gay club."
	"A gay bath?" he asked incredulously.
	"Yeah, It has showers and steam rooms and saunas and places for
guys to relax . . . and have fun,"
	"Oh," came his simple reply.
	"If you want I could take you to one sometime."
	"Mmmm, Ok, . . . maybe, . . . sometime." The subject was dropped.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	A couple of weeks later we were resting on the bed after a rather
long, passionate Saturday afternoon session. Imran had become quite adept
at sucking my cock and he takes delight in edging me. After taking me to
the edge several times then sitting back and watching me squirm, I could
stand it no longer. I grabbed my cock to force my orgasm. He pulled my hand
away and went all the way down on me, bobbing furiously until I finally
shot my load in his mouth.
	It was wonderful! And, I was a bit surprised `cause he didn't jump
out of bed and run to the bath room to spit out my cum and rinse his
mouth. He swallowed it. That action was not lost on me and I kissed him
deeply, tasting the residue of my pearly fluid in the process.
	"You know, I really love sucking your cock and watching your
reaction when I do it! I never would have thought a few months ago that I
would be sucking a cock, your cock and enjoying it!"
	"Mmmm, I love when you suck me and I love sucking you too . . . so
much! And, you know what? I love it when you slip your hard cock into my
ass. Who would have thought a few months ago that I would be taking your
cock in my ass and enjoying it!"
	We kissed lightly and just laid there entwined.
	I was thinking about how much this man meant to me, how much he
delighted me. That shy Pashtun who first undressed in front of me, cupping
his cock and balls, embarrassed at his nudity, now goes to the bedroom and
strips upon entering my apartment. Mostly, I think he does that, not
because I prefer to be nude in my apartment, but because he knows it gives
me so much pleasure. I revel in the sight of his tall, lanky, hard muscled
body and his opulent, pendulous cock and balls swaying rhythmically as he
walks. His dark, flashing eyes, his prominent nose and wondrous smile
thrill me.
	"You know what?"
	"What?" I answered.
	"When I first started coming here . . . I couldn't wait to have you
suck me or fuck you. All I wanted was to feel my cock in your hot mouth. I
loved watching your lips slide up and down my cock shaft! When I mounted
you from behind I loved watching my cock disappear into your ass hole,
stretching it as I entered. I thought I was becoming addicted to sex."
	"There are worse addictions!"
	"Yeah, but it was not just the sex, it was having sex with a man,
with you. Now . . . now, I am anxious to see you on the weekend, to spend
time with you, to talk and eat with you . . . and . . . "
	"And, no sex?" I stated jokingly.
	Imran punched me in the ribs. "What do you think?" he blurted out
as he playfully grabbed my cock.
	"OW!" I yelled.
	Then he quickly bent down, kissed my cock, "Oh, poor baby, I didn't
mean to hurt you!" Then he sat back, "No, actually for the past couple of
weeks the sex is secondary, not that I don't enjoy it, not that I don't
look forward to it. Guess I'm not so anxious about it any more. And, it's
not that I have lost the incredible feeling that making love to you gives
me. But, seeing you and being with you has become more important."
	I leaned over and kissed him gently.
	Then came the shocker, "Prof, . . . am I falling . . . in love?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	`Love,' `in love,' what does it really mean? How do you know? I
have said to two people in my life to that point, other than members of my
immediate family, "I love you." To me such a declaration is of paramount
importance and entails so much. One of the persons to whom I made such a
statement was my former wife, the other was a woman with whom I had a long
relationship.
	Oh, I have said, "I love fucking you," or "I love how you make me
feel when you suck me," or "I love your cock!" That's different! The mark,
the object of such a statement is a particular thing or action, not a
being.
	So when Imran expressed that question, I was nearly dumbfounded. I
hadn't objectified our relationship to that point. Did I enjoy being him?
Yes. Did I enjoy our discussions?  Yes. Was I filled with passion when we
held each other close?  Yes. Was I concerned about bring him to that
ultimate release?  Yes. Was I concerned about hi well being?  Yes. Were
there things about him or habits of his that irked me? A few. Were there
times that just having him near was fulfilling?  Yes.
	What does all this mean? I guess I'm not prepared at this juncture
to state a conclusion.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	A week or so later, on a Saturday--it's funny how important
Saturday has become in our life--I asked him, "Do you want to go the
Obelisk tonight?"
	"What's the `Obelisk?'"
	"It's a gay bath, like Our Place, only nicer."
	He thought a few seconds, "OK."
	"I think it will be a learning experience for you," I said with a
smirk.
	"What does that mean?"
	"Well, you will encounter only men. Some will be nude. Some will be
having sex . . . "
	"In front of . . in public?" he asked a bit shocked.
	"Well, not exactly `in public,' but in a an environment where the
others won't be scandalized."
	"Do I have to be nude?"
	"Not if you don't want to."
	"I . . . I don't mind being nude in front of you any more. But, in
front of other people . . . "
	"You don't have to be nude," I repeated.
	"OK."
	Later we went to the Obelisk. I rented a `double room' which had a
double bed rather than a single. We could strip there, in private and wrap
ourselves in the towels provided. As we walked to the room a number of
towel wrapped guys passed us and a nude guy. He sported a raging erection.
	Imran gasped.
	In the room Imran whispered, "Did you see that guy!?
	Of course I knew who he was referring to, but asked, "What guy?"
	"The naked guy with a hard on!"
	I corrected him, "You mean the nude guy with a hard on?"
	"Yeah."
	"Well, I warned you!"
	"Yeah, but he had a hard on!"
	"Guess he wanted to get your attention."
	"Well, he sure got it!" Imran laughed.
	We exited our room. "Let's go and shower," I said.
	"Do we have to?"
	"It's normal procedure."
	Luckily for Imran, the shower room was empty. He took a shower at
the back wall, he faced the tiled wall, quickly showered, dried himself and
wrapped the towel around his waist.
	"Let's go to the steam room."
	"OK," he said as we stepped into the semi dark, steam filled
room. There were three levels of benches around three sides of the room. We
sat on the lower level and began to luxuriate in the effect the steam had
upon our bodies. There were five or six other guys seated on various
levels. Most had their towels draped over their crotch and thighs, a couple
were nude, on full display. Imran glanced around at first and when he saw
the two nude guys, he dropped his head and looked at the floor. Moments
after we entered the door opened, a tall, muscular guy walked in, looked
around and sat on the lower bench opposite Imran and me. He whipped the
towel from around his waist, folded it, laid it on the bench and sat on
it. As he sat, he spread his legs, displaying what can only be described as
a massive cock and balls. I heard a sharp intake of breath as Imran glanced
across the narrow space.
	The hunk stared fixedly at Imran and began to fondle his
cock. Imran squirmed. I assumed it was in embarrassment rather than
excitation. Soon the cock had grown to its full, substantial length. I
noticed that Imran glanced repeatedly at the display. One of the guys from
the top bench moved down and sat next to the erect hunk, tentatively
massaged the muscular thighs and slid his hand up to the upstanding, ruddy
cock. The hunk never flinched, but Imran sure did. Then is one smooth
motion, the guy bent over and took nearly the whole length of that turgid
cock into his mouth. Imran gasped.
	"I've had enough of this heat, wanna leave?" I whispered to Imran.
	He didn't answer, but quickly stood and moved towards the door and
hurriedly exited.
	"Did you see that!" he whispered to me hoarsely outside the steam
room.
	"Yeah," and added, "He sure had a big one."
	"Not that!" he gasped, "Are you blind? The guy was sucking him!"
	"Those things happen here, Imran."
	As I looked at him Imran was flushed, and I suspected not
completely from the hot steam.
	"Let's go to the lounge, I'm thirsty." and I led the way. The
lounge was average size with six or seven small tables with two chairs
each. I got two cokes, signed for them and sat down with Imran. Maybe four
or five other guys were there. Luckily for Imran, they all had towels
wrapped around them.
	"Are you all right?" I asked quietly.
	He nodded his head and said, "Yeah, but GEESE . . . .!"
	I snickered, "I warned you!"
	"These guys aren't the least bit . . . modest," he observed.
	"Are you modest at my place," I asked, arching my eyebrow.
	"That's different," he spat out.
	"Is it?"
	We finished our coke and proceeded to the TV room. There were
three, deep carpeted steps on three walls, like the steam room, but covered
in lush carpet. On the open wall was a large screen television, at least a
thirty-six-incher. It was showing the credits for the next feature. We sat
on the top level and looked around. It was not full, but a fair number of
guys were in attendance. One or two got Imran's immediate attention due to
their nudity. Then the opening scene flashed on the screen--an incredibly
graphic orgy was in session. There were zoom shots, up close and personal,
there were distant shots where it was difficult to know what to focus
on. Imran was transfixed. It was a typical gay movie, little or no plot,
but lots of hard cock and cock-filled asses and sucking mouths. Since that
first night Imran and I had watched two or three other porn videos at my
place. So he wasn't too shocked, and I did notice that his towel was
tenting as his
 pants did the first time at my place.
	I rested my hand on his thigh and squeezed it slightly. Imran
turned to me, smiled and turned back the athletic action on the screen.
	After a while I leaned to him and whispered in his ear, "You either
let me suck your gorgeous, hard cock hear, or we go back to the room. I'm
drooling for you."
	He shot me a wide eyed, almost frightened look, cupped his erection
and slid off the step. Quickly, we returned to the room where I immediately
fell to my knees, lifted his towel and began to suck his turgid
cock. Shortly, at least shortly for Imran, he shot a massive load into my
mouth.
	"Ahhhh!" Then he fell on the bed.
	A few minutes later, he asked, "Would you really have sucked me in
there . . . in front of all those guys?"
	"You'll never know," I answered with a grin.
	"Geeze!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

	Later we went to the darkened orgy room. It seemed to be the most
popular room, next to the TV room. Most of the guys had removed their
towels from around their waist and draped them about their necks. In
addition, most of the guy's cock were hard and outstanding.
	I whispered to Imran, "Do you want to take your towel off?"
	"No!" came the quick reply.
	Just then a guy walked up to Imran and groped his crotch. He
quickly stepped back and forcibly pushed the offending hand away. The guy
just shrugged and sought a more willing object.
	A few more minutes passed along with a few more gropes. Imran
suddenly stated, "I don't like this room. I'm going to the TV room."
	"OK," I said, "I'll be there in a minute," and he hurriedly left.
	The hunk from the steam room came over to me and asked, "Where's
your cute friend going?"
	"To the TV room. This is his first time at a bath and I guess he
was suffering sensory overload."
	"Mmmm," he said.
	I reached out and grabbed his hard cock and squeezed it.
	"Nice equipment," I commented.
	He reached down and groped me through the towel.
	"Mmmm, you've got a beauty there too!" he said turning slightly.
	"Thanks," I answered and cupped one of his firm, muscular buns.
	"Mmmm," he moaned slightly
	I slid my finger down his crack and he turned more to facilitate my
probing finger. As I reached his tight pucker, I was aware that it was
already lubed, so I slid my finger deep into his hole.
	"Ahhhh!" he groaned.
	I whispered in his ear, "I'd like to slide more than my finger into
your tight hole!"
	"Do it!" he said as he bent forward at the waist and pulled his
muscular ass cheeks apart with his hands. The light was such that I had
feel my way to that puckered opening. It wasn't difficult. I had years of
practice. Once my throbbing cock head touched that bud, the hunk grunted
and pushed against my rigid cock. It slipped in rather easily.
	"He's been at it a while this evening," I thought as I pushed all
the way in.
	"Humph!" he groaned, "Now fuck that ass."
	And, I did.
	Just as I was unloading my cum deep in his gut, I looked up and saw
Imran staring at me, his mouth agape and his eyes wide in disbelief. I
pulled out and walked up to him. "I need to shower," I stated. He just
looked blankly at me.
	Upon showering, I returned to the room. Imran was waiting at the
locked door.
	"I want to leave," he declared quietly.
	We entered our room and he put on his boxers, modestly under his
towel and quickly put on the rest of his clothes. I dresses just as
quickly, went to the desk, and paid my charges. We walked to the car,
neither uttering a word.
	We drove home in silence. It was evident that he was upset. Upon
entering the apartment, Imran went down the hall to the bedroom. A moment
later, he returned, not nude as he normally would have done these past
months, but fully dressed and carrying his back pack;
	He announced, "I'm going home."
	"Imran, what you saw meant nothing, absolutely nothing!"
	He shot me a withering glance and left.