Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2011 10:03:56 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Alem's Touch, Chapter Two" by Jay Roberts   Gay Young Friends

"Alem's Touch, Part Two"   By Jay Roberts
                                                Gay young friends

We were inseparable, but I noticed a gradual change in Alem's attitude
toward me.  It started out oddly, at the beginning, but I was fascinated by
his showing off his body and being suggestive.  Also his touching was
stimulating, still we were equals and he was trying very much to amplify
our friendship.

But, the last few days a different Alem began to emerge.  He became a bit
bossy.  It was evident when he was teaching me soccer.  Instead of his
cheery encouraging ways, he began to berate me for stupid moves and poor
form.  Yet, after the field when we sat together on the bleacher bench he
would speak in that sexy, soft growly way that caused me to have shivers
all over.

And while he talked to me that way, he began touching me.  This time he
slipped his warm hand up the back of my tee shirt and stroked my back as he
droned on, hypnotically.  He told me about the school in Egypt.  "There
were no girls at the school, and none nearby.  All of us were longing for a
soft pussy to enter.  None, so we suffered.  Occasionally, one of the boys
would volunteer to help the other out."


"You mean you had sex with other students?" I said with wonder.

He laughed and clutched my bare leg, his fingers extending almost to my
testicles.  I was beginning to pant from the attention.

"Yes, I was lucky that way.  I seemed to be the one all the girlie-boys
liked.  I had my pick, but I usually chose one of the English boys.  Their
skin was so white and smooth."

Then he grabbed my chin and turned me toward him.  "Like you, except your
are better looking that any of those back there," I swelled with pride.
"You with your curly blond hair, baby face and fine slim body.  If we were
not out in public, right now I would kiss you.  Not a male cheek kiss, but
a lover's kiss."

My face was hot, my lips were already pushing out, but then he laughed
heartily.  "I must stop, I am brimming.  You know what that means?"

I shrugged.

"It means my prong is dripping.  Baby, you are really a turn on."

Then, without a pause, changing the subject, he asked, "How about sleeping
over at my house tonight..it's Friday, no school tomorrow.  We can actually
walk there, it's only two kilometers."

"I don't think in kilometers, but it sounds close.  Let me call home on my
cell and see if I can."  There was no answer.  I rashly just left a message
with Alem's telephone number and that I would be sleeping over.  I know I
should have stopped home and left a note or waited for Mom, and also picked
up pajamas.  I mentioned that to Alem and he waggled his thick black
eyebrows and said, "We don't sleep in pajamas.  You must follow the host's
customs.  We also can wash your clothing whilst you're sleeping and you can
avail yourself of our goodly supply of toothbrushes and such."

Then putting an arm around my shoulder, we headed for his house.  To my
surprise, it was not an Egyptian palace, but a regular suburban home.  A
bit large, six bedrooms Alem told me.  He read my mind a explained that his
father was not the Ambassador, but one of the delegation.  "The tops people
live in town, in fancy apartments."  But my fantasy was restored when we
entered the ordinary house.  It was furnished in exotic Moroccan style with
sumptuous fabrics on low couches and beautiful decorated brass topped
tables.  I gawked and Alem pulled me along.  ""Dinner will be in an hour.
My father is expected, the servants tell me.  Shall we go to my room and
rest until then?"

Up the staircase we trudged, my eyes dazzled by the handsome carpets draped
over the railings.  Alem's room was a mixture of a sporting youth and a
harem.  The walls, besides some valuable looking old prints, were photos of
a lanky boy (Alem) in short soccer pants, posing.

I glanced at the "bed".  It was low, almost on the floor, and wide as a
king sized.  It was covered with big satin and printed cushions.  I felt
the sexiness of that way of sleeping.  I thought I would be hard all night
there, if it were mine.

"Do you need a short rest?  I need to take a quick shower and dress for
dinner.  You can shower or not, but I must lend you a jacket for dinner.
Father is very particular about dressing."

"I think I'll just rest on the big chair.  Go ahead with your stuff."

Sat on the chair and sunk into it's softness.  The room made me sleepy.  It
has a sandal wood fragrance and there was faint foreign music playing
somewhere.  If Alem offered me a hookah smoke, it would seem quite in
character to this moment.

I jumped awake as Alem burst into the room, barefoot and body exposed as he
rubbed his thick hair to dry it.  I noticed his bare feet, they were large
and the instep had some hairs on them.

"What?" he said, catching me checking out his feet.

"Nothing.  I guess I'm getting hungry."

"Hungry for me or food?"

I ignored the remark.

Alem dressed quickly.  I was surprised that he wore a blue blazer and tie
and lace up shoes.  I was still in school time clothes, but he produced
another blue jacket from his closet, which had scores of jackets and
shirts.  I looked passable as we went down stairs.

"Alem," a powerful male voice called, "I'm in my study."

The study was magnificent in the way this plain room had been converted
into a Middle Eastern retreat.  The walls were covered with fabric
depicting ancient Arabs in caravans.  The blue figured rug must be very
valuable and the furniture rare.  But Alem's father was the most
interesting thing in the room.  He was slim and hardly taller than Alem,
but his bristly British style moustache and thick curly hair lent him a
distinguished look.  He was dressed in a shirt and tie as well as a silk
smoking jacket.  He was sipping a cocktail, Martini I think.

Today I had been exposed to such finery that my own home would seem boring.

Alem introduced me and explained that I would be "bunking" here tonight.
His father seemed pleased and mentioned that he hoped that Alem would make
American friends and through them, learn about the country.

Dinner was not Egyptian.  I think that was for me.  We had chopped steak
and vegetables , and ice cream for desert.  After dinner, Alem's father
excused himself and said that he had to go back to the city for a meeting.
"You may use the TV room," he added.

It was after eight o'clock when we finished dinner.  Alem and his father
ate slowly and seemed to chew their food completely before swallowing.  I
had to slow myself down, I am a bolter.

It was too early for bed, though the thought sharing a bed with Alem,
naked, was in my mind and also, I think, his.  He seemed to be avoiding my
eyes and I heard his breathing quicken several times.  What we did was to
play games.  He was a champ ping pong playing, smashing balls across the
table.  It was hopeless for me to counter him.  After a hour of that, I
said, "How about turning in?"

"Y-e-s-s-s," he said in a hissing and purring voice.  Then came the
inevitable arm on my shoulder as we went up the ornate staircase.

Once in the room we became silly, acting half our age, maybe from
nervousness.  We kicked off our shoes and shrugged off our clothes and
sloppily left them where they fell on the floor.  Alem pretended he was
belly dancing.  It was pretty hot.  When we were both naked I said, "I
still haven't showered after practice."

"Don't shower, Billy," Alem said strongly.  Then coming close he sniffed
me.  It felt strange. You smell delicious, very Billy, very Yankee."

We fell down into the enormous bed.  Alem settled himself far from me and
that relaxed me.  I lay on my back and then heard that faint music again.
I closed my eyes and tumbled into a deep sleep.  Sometime later I half woke
up.  Alem's hand was lying cupped over my junk.  It had disturbed my sleep
and I was about to protest, but then he actually took my penis tube in his
hand and began softly stroking it.  I guess I moaned out loud.  I heard him
say, "That's right Billy boy, enjoy the fun I'm giving you."

I wanted to move or speak but the stroking had paralyzed me.  All my mind
was concentrated on that hand.  How I loved it.  How I wished it would be
more active.  But now he had circled my fleshy penis cover and was sliding
it back and forth over the sensitive head.  I was almost crooning with
exquisite pleasure.  He stroked my check in a brotherly way.  "Yes young
friend, you are so sweet, I am glad to make you happy."

Usually I am a fast cummer.  It doesn't take me too much shagging to
deliver the goods, but Alem was a master, he kept me poised on the brink,
but never falling off.  It was almost torture, but a still hoped it
wouldn't end.

Then, somehow, he sensed that I needed relief.  He reached for a wad of
tissues and then put one big hand under my ball sack and began tickling it,
the other wanking hand started a heavy stroke.  My hips lifted, my eyes
shot open, and I cried out the agony and relief of my ejaculation.  My hips
kept rising and falling and my prick kept spewing juice.  I had never felt
anything like this before.  Just when it became unbearable, it stopped.  My
consciousness returned to normal and my prick felt his wiping and blotting.
It felt good, that tender attention.

Finally, he smiled down at me.  "When you cum, you really deliver.  You're
a honey baby and I loved making you happy.  Now it's time to go back to
sleep and tomorrow we'll see how you can thank me for what I did."

End Chapter Two