The following is a work of fiction. All characters are over 18 years of age. There are depictions of sexual acts and homoerotic themes. Please do not read any further if you are not legally eligible or would be offended by the material.
It started, I thought, as just another married Turk looking for a blowjob. But this one turned out to be so much more. Incredibly more.
I was walking down the busy Ordu Cad in Istanbul when I realized there was someone walking next to me and saying something in Turkish. It was dark, late in the evening and I was returning to my hotel after a long day of research at the university. I really didn't want to deal with yet another married Turk. He asked if I knew the location of a particular street. God, do they ever get creative at all? Is there something in the `married Turk manual' that they start out the hustle with the same question? As I turned to answer, I caught myself. This was not the usual 50 year old short hairy guy with bad teeth and booze on his breath. Nor was he another Kurd rent boy. This one was hot.
He was hot, stud hot: tall, early 30s, muscled, thick black hair with some gray flecks showing from the street lights; model-like handsome. And a killer smile. Rather than blurting out my standard answer that I wasn't interested, I heard the words come from my mouth that the street in question was just ahead. Never breaking stride, we walked together, chatting innocuously. That's how `it's done'. I learned his name was Raif, that he was a chef at a large resort on the Mediterranean in Izmir about 300 km away. When we reached the street, I pointed to the left and told him the address would be several blocks down the hill. He asked if I would take him there.
I went hard as a rock.
Well, of course I would,' I told him, happy to help'. Hell, I'd have carried this one on my shoulders if he had asked. We were smiling as we walked and talked. We bumped each other a couple times, clearly intentionally. I couldn't help notice he never took his hands out of his pockets. I could only imagine what he might have inside those pants. ‘Turkish Delight’ does not ONLY refer to the sweets one buys in the bazaar.
Arriving at the address, he thanked me. It was the home of a cousin where he was staying. We shook hands but as I turned to leave, the handshake lingered, he held on loosely. He told me he would like to buy me a drink for my help. His wife was still in Izmir and he had some freedom while he was in town. `Freedom', another code word from the manual: wife is back home, let's go for a drink at a strip joint, exhibit to everyone (including himself)how masculine he was, get drunk and then he will want that blowjob. Ok with me this time, I wanted this guy.
I agreed to the drink thinking that despite his incredible good looks, I wanted to get to know him; he seemed a very sweet young man. We continued to walk down the street, down the hill toward the sea. Fewer people, not as many street lights. Suddenly, he lightly took my elbow and guided me around a corner to a darkened alley. Well, this was novel, I thought, he's getting right to the point. Maybe I can have some fun with this one without spending an hour watching some scrawny Turkish chick do a bad pole dance.
Into the dark we went. He told me he liked me the minute he saw me on the street, that he was attracted to my professor look. He said he thought maybe I was a lover of books and great art. I grasped his crotch and just as I suspected (hoped?), there it was....a hard thick hunk of Turkish meat. He grabbed me and found my big American daddy dick.
Face to face, groping each other, he did something that, in all my visits to Istanbul had never happened: this married Turkish stud kissed me, pushing his thick tongue into my mouth. Kissing is NOT in that manual! I let go of his crotch, pulled him closer into my mouth and for what seemed an eternity, we kissed. He whispered something in my ear. But, instead of the usual `I want a blowjob', he astounded me by saying, ‘Please fuck me sir.'
He told me that he comes to Istanbul when he needs a man but that I was the first he had found that he wanted to fuck him. I was very, very happy to oblige. I told him I couldn't bring him to my hotel and I knew he had no place to go either.
`To the sea,' he whispered.
We stepped out of the shadows and continued down the street in the direction of the Sea of Marmara. Only a few minutes' walk and we were there. We darted through the traffic on the highway running parallel to the sea and there we were, alone on the darkened beach. No moon tonight, just stars. Dark. The lights of Istanbul’s New District twinkled across the bay.
We sat on rocks and touched each other. He seemed suddenly shy. I opened his shirt and my fingers quickly found his tight nipples buried in the hairy mass on his muscled pecs. I squeezed one...he moaned. Tighter.....he groaned. Kissing, unzipping, cocks out......he knelt to suck me, took the entire length, no gag reflex at all. My hand on the back of his head.....I forced him up and down.....he got me very hard. I reached down and grabbed his cock, a thick, hard penis leaking pre-cum but he pushed my hand away. Typical Turk, he was worried he would come too quickly; they usually do so I grabbed his head with both hands instead and fucked that handsome face.
He looked up and whispered, `Please, sir, please fuck me, here, right now.' He stood, pants dropped and bent over. Legs spread, his outstretched arms braced against the sea wall with the traffic racing above. Without any light, I wasn't able to see what I was about to enter but my hands told me this was one very nice ass.....muscled, hairy....and his hole was ready. He was already lubed. This man knew what he wanted and was ready for it when he was out on the street.
I pushed against him and despite the wide girth I was blessed with, I slide right in. The noise of the traffic and waves rolling in was drowning out most sound but I heard him gasp. I let him adjust to it. He started to move back into me, taking it all. Back and forth, he slowly took it. We started moving in unison. Then I held his hips still while I fucked him. I fucked him hard. Harder. I reached around to grab his cock and balls only to find he was spontaneously cumming, his thick cock dripping Turkish cum. But he wanted more; he kept taking my cock, letting me pound him. The waves of the Sea of Marmara on our left, the whirr of the traffic on the street above us drowned out our noises but I still heard his passioned grunts as I thrust into him.
I came, I unloaded every drop of American cum I had in me. He stopped moving and felt the heat of it. In the distance, in my orgasm, the lights across the bay exploded, my heart pounded and I let out a roar I had never heard come from my mouth before. It was as if it came from my soul. No doubt it emanated from the same source of all that cum I had just delivered to him.
Finished, I pulled out. He stood, looked at me and gave me the biggest Turkish grin I had ever seen. `Thank you, sir, thank you thank you thank you,' he said, this time in perfect English. Still unable to catch my breath, I simply smiled at him.
He dressed, no more words would be said. I zipped up. We walked along the beach, hot, tired and wet from sweat and cum, both silent. We reached a traffic light and crossed the highway, going away from that beach. Then he disappeared. I turned to say good night but he was gone, disappeared into the dark streets. I thought I might look for him but no, this was over, done. He could now go back to his cousin's house, I to my hotel and we would both have well deserved sleeps.