Amir took off my pants and boxers first, then bent down to do my sneakers. He couldn't get the laces at first; his fingers trembled and tripped each other up. Finally he just pulled them off, then the socks.
I hadn't known he liked my feet the way I liked his--but then I felt his fingers spreading my toes and his tender tongue probing between them. I uttered a small screechy sound, my whole body clenching. I'd never known how good that felt, how sensitive my feet were. My toes closed up; he gripped my ankles and forced them open, slicking each writhing toe with copious hot saliva.
He stopped to look up at me and smile angelically, his hands still firm around my ankles.
"Come on, Khalili," I rasped, "That feels fucking good."
"Later. I'm not washing you with my tongue."
"Damn."
"Maybe another time. If you'll reciprocate."
I licked my lips in response. The thought of slurping every bit of fresh salty sweat from his body--hairline to asshole to toes--made my cock pulse. It would be an ambitious project, sure, but I did not doubt that I had the will to carry it through.
"Like that idea, don't you?"
"A lot--yeah."
"Come on."
He'd been right about his private bathroom; it was small--what you'd call cozy--and cluttered. Not dirty, though. I couldn't imagine anything of Amir's being dirty. He was so fresh and pure and warm--even now, redolent of new and old sweat, with cum cooling on the fronts of his thighs.
We locked both doors, the one on Amir's side, and the one on pretty Qasim's. Though I wouldn't have minded if the boy came home early and decided to join us in our ablutions. Qasim was a shy, slim lad who perpetually seemed to be outgrowing his clothes; they were too tight, I'd noted with frequent subconscious pleasure, especially around his satisfyingly plump little ass. Either that, or he'd be wearing Amir's or Rahman's old clothes, with the dragging cuffs I had (again, subconsciously) always found so fetching on Amir. Unlike sunny sweet-faced Salim with his cute dimples, Qasim Khalili had always seemed darker, brooding. He had a round frowning mouth, a velvety sallow-golden complexion with several sexy beauty marks, black eyebrows low over deep heavily-lashed eyes. His hair was sleek, thick, straight rather than curly, and it stuck up in silky crests, as if he ran his fingers through it a lot. He had Amir's long nose and--on the rare occasions when he did smile--his lovely white grin. I would have loved to feel melancholy Qasim's pouty mouth around my dribbling bone.
I saw Amir staring at me with his own fathomless dark eyes. Perhaps he could read my thoughts; I lowered my head in embarrassment. I had no idea how he'd feel if he knew I was fantasizing about Qasim.
"Look, Aaron."
I turned around. On the back of the door leading to his room was a full-length mirror; I hadn't noticed it when we came in. Funny--with Amir around, I found it easy to overlook the most obvious things.
I was faced with my--our--naked reflection. Two lean, good-looking boys, about the same height; two boys, white and dusky-golden, naked, arms around each other. One with his cock prodding his belly-button, the other half-hard and growing.
"It's hot to see us like that, isn't it?" he said, reaching down to caress my erection, without taking his eyes off our two figures in the mirror. We tried to meet one another's reflected eyes, laughed at the simultaneous attempt--dizzying, disorienting. We laughed and then we kissed. I watched our kiss in the mirror, the way our lips melted into each other, and our bodies twined together. I also watched the reflection of his jutting, belt-marked ass. I gave it a light slap in order to see its resilient bounce in the mirror.
"Ow," he moaned, squirming his hips into me, pushing our hard cocks together. I loved the way his hot stiffy felt against mine. It was one of the most erotic feelings on earth. I pressed him tightly to me and breathed in his rich, slightly tangy aroma.
"I don't want to clean you--"
"Oh, come on--" He blushed. A little ashamed, I think, at my frank enjoyment of his "dirty" scent.
"--I want to fuck you," I finished.
It just came out. I'd never intended to bring it up so abruptly, or to phrase it so crudely. This was almost as bad as the slip on Tuesday. My cheeks--the upper ones, I mean--flamed. I could see myself blushing in the mirror, a stricken look on my face.
"Oh, shit. Dammit. I didn't mean--"
"It's OK," he said, resting his hand on my temple, stroking down the side of my face. "I'm not sure I want you to, but--"
"Let's go back in the bedroom. Just for a little bit." I nuzzled against him, kissed his throat. "I just--I love the way you smell."
Without saying anything more, he unlocked the bathroom and we emerged into his bedroom.
We leapt onto the bed again, making the water-filled mattress jiggle. For a second we just lay on our sides and gazed stupidly at each other and I wondered: What next? Would we wrestle again? I loved tussling with him. Would we move into one of our rough, torrid kisses? Delicious option, as always. Would we tenderly embrace? Oh, I liked that too, the new softness between us. But I wasn't feeling particularly tender right now.
At last, Amir leaned toward me, his eyes gleaming the way they had just before he asked me to hit him with the belt. My heart slammed. I bet his ass still stung fiercely--and I was the one who wasn't sure I could take any more. Not without blowing my load, that is.
His face was less than an inch from mine. I felt his breath when he spoke, smelled it. Still cool- smelling, but with a sweet eager undertaste, it seemed to film my lips.
"There's something you want from me, isn't there, Eisen?"
He traced his finger down the shaft of my overwrought cock.
"You think I forget these things." His lip curled. "Didn't you just say there was something you wanted?"
My reply was almost an accidental kiss, that's how close we were.
"Yeah."
His breath was heavy as he brushed my lips. Then he moved away from me, narrowing his eyes.
"So try and take it."
He beckoned me; I came at him; we tore into each other.
It was a lively tangle; the bed bounced temperamentally beneath us as I fought to hold him down and he to evade my grasp. I liked how damp his skin got, how slippery, and the way he stayed quiet the whole time except for the increasing tempo of his humid breath.
When Amir was ready to give up, I flipped him onto his belly and sat on his thighs partway between the sweaty backs of his knees and his butt, which heaved a little along with his breathing and the undulations of the waterbed. As soon as I put down my fingers to spread his butt, he twisted his head around, and his eyes were sharp and alert.
This again.
"What do I say about relaxing, Khalili?" I asked, not ungently, sort of petting him, stroking the small of his back, then lightly over the very crowns of his perky cheeks--still proudly displaying punished colors.
He smiled nervously, said he was sorry, and lowered his head.
I spanked him once, on the side of his ass, which retained most of its golden-brown color, only a tinge of smacked blush.
"You can watch your ass if you like," I soothed, "Just wipe that deer-in-headlights look off your face. It's distracting... But watch your pretty ass all you want--I'd watch if I were you."
I ran my fingertips over the flesh in vague circular motions, tapping here and there. My touching him there, even just softly, was enough to make his breathing change, become heavy and slow, though no less excited.
I moved down so I was straddling his calves, holding the thighs with my hands. He almost kicked me when he felt my lips against his bottom.
"I told you, Aaron... I'm not clean."
He was glaring, but when he saw my surprised and perturbed look his face softened. "I don't want you to... you know... be disgusted with me."
I wanted to tell him, first off, that it had seemed fine to me from my close but all-too-brief recon, and, second, that it would be extremely hard for me to be disgusted by him. "Put off"--maybe, sure, I could see that. But disgusted? With my sexy brown-sugar guy? No way.
"Alright, it's OK." I inched back up along his thighs, which felt great under mine, all that hard lean flesh, the sweaty little hairs getting tangled with mine, sticking. I patted the much-coveted rump.
"Think you can keep that where it is for me?"
He promised to stay put, and I leaned over the side of the bed and dug around in my backpack, my hands shaking. While he watched over his shoulder, interested, I resumed my position straddling his thighs and poured some of the lube out onto my hand.
I was certain my Amir was going to get a crick in his neck from staring back over his shoulder between his own silken cheeks while I dipped my lube-gobbed fingers into his deep crack. Was it just wishful thinking when I felt him perk up his butt to meet my hand? It made my skin tingle to see him watch me, the dark shining fascinated gaze. This time the finger slipped in with great ease.
The "self-warming" helped to mollify his hole. I grew bold and gave him another finger. Now I could flex the two digits against each other and create all sorts of squirmy new sensations inside him. His groans were loud and rough, almost rusty, as if they had to force their way out of him. I could feel the muscles in his thighs grow hard under me--that feeling, I loved--and I knew his toes had clenched up in the fetching way they had. His hands clutched at the bedclothes. I could smell him--god, I could smell him--the sweat, the savory things his blood secreted when he was excited, when my fingertips were dancing against the tropic depths of his ass and his hard cock was dripping and suffering in the airless hollow between his belly and the mattress. I wanted eventually to pin his wrists over his butt so he couldn't get away.
With trepidation, I added a third finger, carefully twisting my hand. I didn't want to frighten him at this crucial juncture. And I didn't want to really hurt him--ever. But now he was unmistakably into it; the lovely ass bounced hungrily up, the mounds pressed against my knuckles. After a moment of adjustment he was wiggling his tail around, milking stimulation from my overheated fingers, uttering short tattered moans. I rubbed my three fingers together; he cried out in an agony of pleasure. My tongue crept to the corner of my mouth as I watched fresh beads of sweat condense on his broad graceful back.
"Arms behind you, Amir."
He complied immediately, a very obedient boy when he wanted to be. I caught his wrists in my one hand and put them to the small of his back. No way I could keep him that way unless he let me, but I liked to see him like that, strong wrists under my fingers, ass raised up. It made me think of what it might be like to tie him that way.
I removed my fingers out slowly; he moaned in protest as I took them away. To be replaced by something much nicer, he could be assured.
"Put them back. Please, Aaron."
I slapped him right across his crack.
"Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Maybe."
"Is it going to hurt?"
I landed half a dozen light rapid swats on the sit-spot, angling my palm up at the shelf of his butt.
"Does that hurt?"
He nodded.
"Stay quiet. You'll get whatever I give your ass."
Bad porn banter, I guess. But I'd never ass-fucked a randy, attractive, faking-reluctant-really-eager Arab boy before. I'd never fucked anybody, period. I didn't know how I was supposed to talk to him before I slipped it in. He made token protests, low groaning "no"'s, and sweet sleepy squirming motions, as if he'd been drugged. That started all kinds of dark musings in my head. His submissive attitude really lit me up. I shifted position, giving my dick a stroke with lube-covered fingers.
I began to rub my cock up and down between Amir's silken buttocks. The friction created by the mixture of the sweat and the sparse course hair in his crack felt rough, exquisite. Occasionally, the dribbling head would poke titillatingly at his hole and he'd squirm his ass away from me on the bed, afraid I'd stick it in. That was exactly what I wanted to do, and right now--penetrate that red- smacked ass til the head of my cock pushed his prostate like a hot-button. Give his prostate a relentless, merciless massage, make him squirt cum on his sweaty sheets and his flat little belly, make him arch his elegant brown back and push his lovely behind against my invasive hard-on. Make his slick little back-passage ripple around me, play my cock like a flute, as he wriggled and helplessly shot hot Arab-boy cream into his bed.
I kept his wrists pinned to his back as I humped his increasingly-slimy crack. When I put it in him I didn't plan to give him a reach-around either. I was going to force cum out of him through his beautiful blushing-red bottom. He might struggle under me, he might writhe, but such a thorough, uncompromising fuck was exactly what he deserved, and what he ought to expect. I continued to stimulate my shaft between his marked and reddened mounds, gauging his weakening resistance to the pressure of my cockhead against his dark cherry bud.
When I finally popped inside Amir's sultry pucker, it felt like it was trying to pinch me. I was going to need to cool my jets, or this would hurt for both of us. Thorough and uncompromising--I was beginning to realize--would have to wait.
"Amir. Please relax. I won't hurt you. OK?" I let his hands go.
"OK."
His palms hit the sheets, clawed them as I eased in another tight delicious half-inch.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah..." he gasped, "Feels good."
He pushed his ass up and I gripped his narrow hips. Then, with a thrust, I was halfway in; his rectum clutching my shaft was like the walls of a wet soft oven. I sighed. There was drool coming off my chin. I went in a little more, maybe an inch. It was suffocatingly tight, complete paradise. I pulled back a bit, pushed in. I felt like I was going to dissolve into him. I moved back, thrust in again, just a little further, a little harder. I became aware, through a fog of finally-arrived bliss, that he was crying out.
"Aaron, Aaron--fuck!--it hurts!"
"Relax."
"I can't--just... take it out."
I gritted my teeth and slid out. Maybe it was the feel of the warm constriction moving over my cock as I withdrew, maybe the way he looked with his back arched and sweat standing out, maybe even the way he begged me to pull out. Something brought me unexpectedly to the edge, then over it.I started cumming. He looked behind him as the jizz fell in streams along his back and ass, his face flushed and covered in sweat.
I collapsed beside him.
"I'm sorry. Sorry I was so rough. Sorry it hurt."
"We'll try again."
"We certainly will." I kissed from his mouth to the damp hollow of his neck, down his chest and belly. He was still ramrod stiff. I wondered if fear more than an unpleasant amount of pain (and what amount could be unpleasant for him?--I still didn't know) had motivated his last-minute reversal. Maybe having a cock inside him felt like too much, despite the pleasure. I kissed the purple tip of his hard-on, took him in and gave him a slow, relishing blowjob. I was getting to be really good at it, judging from the way he reacted when I swirled my tongue up and down his shaft. His fingers were in my hair. After only a moment or two of my efforts, my mouth filled with warm salty semen.
"You swallowed," he said, marveling, as I came back up.
"So? That's weird?"
"Well--no. But you swallowed all of it. Was it good?"
"Of course. I just usually like to see it come out of you."
"I know what you mean there. When you cum, you close your eyes real tight and your lips open up in this sexy way. And your dick is sort of twitching on its own. You look so hot. Hard to explain--like something's happening to you you can't help, you have no control over it." He laughed, his face very close to mine again. "And you make these cute little dying-animal noises."
"Dying animal noises?" I choked, laughing.
"Well—yeah."
"And that's cute?"
"When you do it."
He pulled me up by the wrists and led me into the bathroom.
The water cascaded down around us: excellent pressure. It felt great on my hot overstimulated skin. I watched gorgeous Amir writhe softly under the stream, closing his eyes in brief delectation. He uttered a husky, sated sound. I put my arms around him, captured his mouth in mine.
"Thank you, Amir," I said, and I have never been more sincere about anything in all my days.
"You're welcome, Aaron. You liked fucking me? Even if it was just for a minute?"
"Oh, yes."
"Was I nice and tight?" He gave his trademark smirk.
I shuddered pleasantly, an aftershock of the brief ecstasy I'd felt inside my Amir. "Like a glove. Tight and hot."
"But I'm a born slut, right?" He was grinning ear to adorable ear, his inky curls plastered straight back from his forehead. His eyelashes were clumped together; he blinked.
I laughed at him, keeping him close to me so I could see the reactions in his face. Under the steady water, his skin was even finer, his contours sleeker.
"Yeah. My slut."
"Wouldn't go that far." Amir landed his spread palm on my wet behind.
I almost asked what had made him insist I pull out. But all this joking and bravado was intended to steer us away from such serious talk. I wondered--was it having any cock inside him? Or was he worried about what Rahman or his dad might think if they knew that not only had he had a cock inside him, but that it had been a Jewish cock? Could be kind of a buzzkill for him, I guess. Then again, maybe it was part of the buzz. Who knew? I sure as shit wasn't going to ask.
I located some shampoo on one of the shelves (crowded with half-used bars of soap, shaving stuff, one or two used wash-cloths) and began lathering Amir's wet hair. He'd said we would try again, I told myself. With everything else we'd done, I couldn't be that disgusting to him, no matter what Rahman or anybody else might think.
"Hold still."
"It tickles... Feels weird having someone else wash your hair. Probably the last person who did was my dad, when I was real young. Or maybe Rahman."
"I'll bet he used to dump soapy water in your eyes on purpose."
"You bet right."
I worked my fingers in the foamy hair. Like rubbing a worry-stone, the act was oddly soothing. I rinsed him with care--not like Rahman--and pulled the sopping curls back from his face, turned around so he could do me. We could have just as easily--perhaps more easily--washed our own hair, each of us, but this was fun, sensual. I warned myself against thinking too deeply about what such gestures might mean. Just enjoyed the sensation of his fingertips massaging my scalp. I didn't pay so much attention to my own hair, usually. I sudsed it up, rinsed it out, and ran a comb through it if I had to go somewhere. Took all of two minutes.
We got fresh cloths, soaped them up, took turns scrubbing each other's bodies. Mostly, we were business-like about it; the objective was to get clean, after all. But we lingered a little with the rough cloths on certain parts. I, for example, made sure that Amir would have no reason to doubt the cleanliness of his wet, protestingly-offered nether-regions. After a half-minute of negotiations too boring to recall, I had him bend with his palms against the wall, while he admonished me to "be gentle, for fucksakes; just remember, I'm doing everything to you that you do to me". Followed by a sudden intake of breath as he felt the wet terrycloth inside his somewhat-raw hole.
I was stunned to discover, upon our emergence, that we'd been in the shower for almost forty-five minutes. We were both wrapped in large towels, and we spread them over Amir's sheets so we could lay on them and dry off in the air. We didn't speak for a long while.
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Amir asked the ceiling, not meeting my eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we've been going at it like rabbits--" He blushed at this trite, dismissive phrasing. "--short of actually fucking, which, again, I'm sorry about--"
I put up a hand. "I was too quick. I insisted. We probably shouldn't have. I mean--"
"Nevermind. Short of actual fucking, we've been together since that whole crazy business on Monday, and tomorrow we have to go back to school where all your friends--"
"I don't have that many."
He waved his arm dismissively. "Shut up. All your friends and all my friends expect us to act like enemies. Want us to, too. It's entertainment for them. The point is, do we or don't we act like enemies?"
"I hadn't thought about it, honestly." It was true; all I'd thought about was how hard it was going to be to keep our dirty mits off each other during the times when our paths unavoidably crossed. That and how I was going to make a fool of myself trying to debate him, next time that--also unavoidably--happened.
"I'm asking you now because I don't want to be surprised tomorrow. And think you regret everything. You know?"
I did know.
"We should act normal, I think," I said, after a short pause. His face fell a little; I could see it out of the corner of my eye. "I mean, we shouldn't suddenly start acting like friends... that would be hard to explain. We could act normal, but without the venom. Move in our separate circles, all that--"
"And we can do this again? Meet after school?"
"I'd have to kick your ass again otherwise."
He quit staring at the ceiling and curled into me instead, smiling sweetly.
"You did not kick my ass."
"I would have."
"You would not."
"Would."
I threw my arms around him.
"Would not."
He kissed me, hands in my wet hair. The rest of the afternoon passed like that, lip-locked, nibbling, languid. We even dozed. Eventually Amir roused me, indicated the clock (2:35) and began gathering up our clothes.