I HOPE I CAN FIND HIM AGAIN
The heavy clouds that covered the skies during my first
couple of days in Cairo had finally cleared. The first night
there, I went to the open air sound and light show held every
night at the pyramids. Even though I wore a sweater and jacket,
the cold winds chilled me to the bone!
Tonight, though, the light from the few street lights isn't
obscuring the stars. The moon reflects enough that it's easy to
see the many guards, even in their black uniforms. The warm air
hardly moves the leaves on the bushes in the museum's grounds.
This night somehow has a friendly feeling.
I guess my euphoric mood was set at the bar that I had just
left when it closed -- the Nile Hilton. Its customers are mostly
tourists, but a few locals go there too, to indulge their needs
whether of business or pleasure. It's probably as close as
anything in Egypt to a gay bar. Mostly gays line two sides of
the U-shaped bar and fill the booths to the left of the bar.
Straights sit at the tables and booths in the rest of the room. A
policeman or soldier sits or stands at each of the hotel's
entrances; his sole purpose seems to be to keep out locals who
aren't on legitimate business or aren't accompanied by tourists.
Even so, a few hustlers always manage to get into the bar and
mingle in the crowd.
A couple of hustlers really turned me on tonight and I
bought them a beer or two in return for their attentions and
conversation at the bar. I hoped it would be easy to find a cock
to suck that didn't have a price tag attached, so I left the bar
alone, feeling horny as hell, but in a great frame of mind. I
hadn't made up my mind yet what to do next. I could cruise the
guards at the National Museum across the street, walk the streets
for awhile or I could go back to my hotel about a 15 minute cab
ride away and cruise the nearby public T-room.
The only street I could take, no matter what my choice,
passes the museum, so I decided on the guards for starters.
There seem to be several different police corps in Egypt.
There are those who wear the heavy black wool uniforms and seem
to be stationed outside the buildings. Then, they have the ones
who wear white uniforms. I've only seen them inside buildings.
They seem to be on a little higher level than the black uniformed
ones, and their uniforms fit a little better. There are those who
look like policemen and wear uniforms that would identify them as
probable policemen in most other countries. They seem to perform
as policemen would other places, too. Then, some wear uniforms
that are very much like army uniforms that fit them very well.
These seem to be the top level, but I haven't been able to figure
out just what it is that they do.
Sex never seems to be far from the minds of any of the
Egyptian males that I've seen. The policemen, especially the
black and white uniformed ones, seem just as randy as any of the
other men. I haven't seen many who haven't made a suggestive or
lewd gesture of some kind when looking at foreign men.
Being outside, the guards at the museum are the black garbed
ones. I can't help feeling a little sorry for them. Their
uniforms all look as though they are at least four sizes too big!
But still, I guess, it makes them look sort of cute. Most of
them have a look of youth and innocence and I'm reminded of a boy
who has to wear his big brother's hand-me-downs until he grows
into and out of them -- in several years.
Anyway, I walked up to the decorative wrought-iron fence
that surrounds the museum and stopped. Anyone watching would
merely think that I was enjoying the view of the grounds. When I
stopped, a few of the guards started towards me. Many of these
guards have probably found tourists to be very generous and most
of them seem to be very friendly.
Three walk right up to me on the other side of the fence and
one asks me where I'm from. Another asks "You German?"
"I'm American," I reply. This prompts "You California?"
"I speak Ainglis" comes from one of them. I've learned that
if the point is pressed, he might know a dozen English words.
We stand facing each other for three or four minutes. A few
questions are haltingly asked and answered and every few seconds
one or the other of us pulls at his crotch or scratches his
balls. Their eyes are on my crotch and mine on theirs' at least
as much as on each other's faces.
Like I said before, I'm feeling damned horny, and I start to
get a hardon right away. Even though I have about 7 1/2 inches,
I'm wearing jockey shorts so my cock doubles over and it doesn't
show much from the front through my pants even though it's
getting hard. I couldn't tell about them, either. The pants of
their uniforms were so big and baggy that even a hard ten incher
could probably stay well hidden within.
"I wonder if anything's going to happen?" I think. "And, if
it does, where, and how?" I quickly glance up and down the
street to decide if it would be safe to suck their cocks right
there if they stuck them through the fence. I decide I'm willing
to try it and then wonder how to broach my intentions to them.
"Should I bring my hard cock into the open? Or maybe reach
through the fence and grope one of them? Or, should I just ask
them to let me suck their cocks?"
About the time that I decide to reach through and grab a
cock, one mutters something in Arabic. They look past me down the
street at my back that forms a "T" with the street we're on a few
feet to the right of where we're standing. Then, they all three
move away from me, back towards their posts.
When I look around, I see why. Two men are approaching.
They're both in uniform. One uniform is the one I mentioned
before that looks like an army uniform. The other one, I've
thought before, was actually army rather than just looking like
it.
I'm not sure what I should do, but I think that I haven't
done anything wrong - yet, so I have nothing to worry about. I
slowly turn and start walking in the direction of a taxi stand a
block or so away. By now, the uniforms are within a few feet of
me; one tells me to stop. I do and they come up to me. They ask
for my passport.
When traveling in some countries, it's fairly safe to carry
your passport on you. In others though, an American passport will
bring a good price on the black market. So, I don't have my
passport. It's locked in the safe at the hotel where I'm
staying.
"I don't have it with me," I said. "It's at my hotel."
At that, they move to me, one on each side. "You have to
come with us." One takes my arm and propels me along with them,
heading for the Nile, a short block away.
When I ask them why I have to go with them, they tell me
it's because I don't have my passport with me. The one who took
my arm keeps hold of it, but lightly. Just enough to assure me
that I needn't have any ideas of bolting. He's the one in the
army-type uniform that I've thought is police.
I have no idea what to expect, but right now, Egypt's
government is friendly with the U.S. These guys apparently,
represent the government at one level or other, so I don't expect
real trouble. As far as I can tell, I've committed no crime other
than possibly the one they mentioned, and how serious can that
be?
One of them, the one holding my arm, is young. I doubt if
he's over 25. He's about 5 feet 6 or 7, and, he's cute. He kind
of turns me on. The other one's about 6 feet tall, almost the
same as me, and my guess is, he's in his early 30's. He's good
looking, too, but my chemistry doesn't react and he hardly makes
my cock tingle.
They talk a little in Arabic as we approach the river,
crossing the street that runs alongside it. The water level is
10 to 15 feet below the level of the road. A sidewalk runs along
the street at the edge of which is a stone retaining wall,
extending three and a half or so feet above the sidewalk. Every
so often, flights of stairs go down to the concreted river bank
below where many small boats are tied. Whole families seem to
live on these boats.
The policeman holding my arm guides me to the retaining wall
where we stop. The other one goes down the steps to the river.
By now I'm more curious than anything else. I can't figure out
what we're doing at the river. A couple of male voices hold a
short conversation down below and within a few seconds, the other
policeman or soldier or whatever he is rejoins us. He says
something to the one who still has my arm; we turn around and
start back down the same street we've just walked up. Niether
says anything more. At the corner just beyond the museum we angle
right, starting across an empty square block area. It's a major
bus transfer and dispatch point during the day. At this time of
the night, the buses don't run and the area is deserted.
The whole block is marked with lanes. There's probably a
different lane for each bus route that uses that transfer point.
Little wooden structures sit alongside each lane. I guess
they're for the dispatchers -- or maybe for the ticket sellers.
The buildings are all alike and are about 5 ft. by 7 ft.. Each
has one door and one window. The window doesn't have glass, but
a hinged wooden cover can be raised to close it. At that time of
night, the doors and windows are closed.
My "companions" take me directly to one of these buildings.
My curiosity is now really piqued! The door is locked but the
taller one takes a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and
opens it. He reaches inside and turns on an inside overhead
light. Then, he stands aside. The cute one, still holding my
arm, goes inside and pulls me along with him. The other one
stays outside and pulls the door closed. A plank has been mounted
the length of the back wall and we sit down on it. At the same
time, he releases my arm.
Turning towards me, and unbuckling his belt, he says "Now I
fuck you."
I guess I wasn't there when I was supposed to be learning to
enjoy fucking. I've never liked being on either end of a fuck.
So, I reply "No."
His next statement is "Then, you fuck me." Surprise!
Again, I say "No."
At this refusal he stops undoing his pants. The expression
that crosses his cute face isn't one of anger. Rather, I see
disappointment. I've already thought that I probably don't have
much to worry about from them. The disappointment I see seems to
confirm that so I suggest "I'll suck your cock."
His face lights up in a broad smile. "Okay!"
We both fumble to unbutton the couple of buttons remaining
at his fly. He raises off the bench enough to slip his pants and
briefs down to mid-thigh and sits down again.
His cock, cut in accordance with Islamic law, is sort of in
proportion to his height. I guess it's about 5 inches long and
maybe an inch or inch and a quarter in diameter. It's just a
nice sized mouthful for me. Big enough for me to know I have
something worth having but small enough for my tongue to get a
lot of action. Just right for me when I want to really please the
other guy. And, I really want to please this guy! I lean over
and take his cock, already hard, into my mouth.
I engulf it all the way to the base on the first thrust,
twirling my tongue around it in both directions as it goes in and
back out. His cock is rock hard, but at the same time, is as
soft as velvet. It pulses with the vibrant life of its engorging
blood. It smells and tastes slightly of his sweat mixed with his
own male essence.
Without taking my mouth from his cock, I get off the bench
and kneel in front of him between his knees. I go down on it
again, getting high on the way it feels and tastes. His brown
pubic hairs gently and softly caress my nose and lips, belying
their wiry look.
Letting his cock slide out of my mouth just to the base of
the head again, I'm aware of the slightly sweet taste of his pre-
cum. I think we both moan a little -- mine muffled a bit by
what's filling my mouth -- his mixed with a deep sigh.
With my right hand I'm holding his balls while the left
caresses his thigh. He's laid his hands on either side of my
head but isn't exerting any force with them. "God, he's nice!" I
think.
By the fifth or sixth time I go down on him, he begins to
stiffen and gasp. Almost before I've had a chance to react, the
first spurt of his cum travels down his cock and hits the back of
my throat. I quickly bury the length of his cock in my mouth
clamping my lips tightly around the base and cradling it in my
curled tongue before slowly withdrawing. He's still shooting;
the cum collects on my tongue. I stop just as his glans reaches
my lips. Holding him there until the spurts end, I savor the
unique flavor of his cum as it lays on my tongue for a few
seconds before swallowing. Then, I go down on him once more in
order to get that one last drop. Even after his cock begins to
soften, I hold it in my mouth, releasing it only after it's fully
soft. It falls gently and lays across his balls. I wrap both of
my arms around his thighs and lay my head on one of them for a
few more seconds. Then I look up at him; his eyes are closed.
His mouth forms an almost cherubic smile.
All too soon, he signals that it's time to go. We stand
and he pulls his pants up and buttons them. After he's gotten
himself back together, he looks at me and smiles again. Then, he
hugs me! My surprise doesn't keep me from returning his embrace.
My head's swimming a little at his unexpected action, so I'm not
sure, but I guess I incline my head towards his. When I do, he
tilts his face up and kisses me quickly -- on the lips!
After releasing me, he opens the door, motions for me to go
out, turns off the light and follows me out. The other one locks
the door and the one whose cock I've just loved says "Come."
The three of us set off again, but this time towards a taxi
that was standing at the curb half a block away. When still a
few feet from the cab, the cute one looks up at me and asks the
name of my hotel. The other one relays that information to the
cab driver as the cute one settles me in the back seat of the
car. After he closes the car door, he steps back, smiles and
waves. The two of them turn as if to head back towards the river
and we start in the direction of the hotel.
"God, what a surprise! What a sweet man! And, what a
beautiful experience!" I exclaim to myself. "I hope I can find
him again!"