Sunday, 9 June 2013

The Harus (again)

It’s been a while, and I’m in the mood for some rough trade.  I recommence smoking in an area where the harus will spot me, and shortly he does.  We agree to meet later that afternoon.

I am greeted at the appointed time, and we move to his lodging.  He explains to me his brother is there and wants to meet me.  Upon entering, I am confronted by quite a sight.  Sprawled on the floor is a man wearing nothing other than a pair of tight white briefs.  This is highly unusual attire for someone of this nationality (they generally prefer bloomers under their robes), but my breath is taken away by the guy.  He’s clearly some sort of labourer, but with the body of an Olympic diver, and a package that can only be described as massive, clearly matching the 10” or so the harus packs.  I sit nervously on the bed (no chairs remember), wondering what is going on as introductions are made.  The harus tells me he is “going to buy sugar”, and after muttering something to his brother in Arabic leaves us alone.  Again, the language barrier is pretty high, so I am looking at the wall, trying hard not to stare at this man, and he in turn is staring at some local chat show on TV.  His hand drifts to his crotch, and he begins to slowly stroke himself, never taking his eyes off the television, until he is clearly rocking an obelisk to match that of his brother.  I am mesmerized by this, not knowing what to do, and sit there awkwardly with a bulge growing in my own pants.  Has the harus paired us off?  Promised his brother some quick western action?  WTF?

After a few minutes of this, the brother stands and stretches, displaying both his physique and bulge to maximum effect.  He approaches the bed, and begins to reach behind me, where his robe is hanging on a hook.  As he comes in, I shift slightly, with his bulge now mere inches from my face, and the overwhelming smell of a man in my nostrils.  At the last second, he shoves his thumb into his waistband and yanks the briefs partway down.  His glistening cock springs out, and taking it in his hand, he slaps my face with it and slowly drags it back, smearing his pre-cum on my cheek.  I am speechless, and uncertain if I have been taunted, teased, or just outright disrespected as he unhooks the robe and slowly dons it, as I wipe my face.

At this moment the harus walks back in with the sugar, and, seeing his brother now dressed, he smiles.  He turns and tells me in broken English “as I was leaving I told him to put his clothes on”.

We then sat and drank tea as if nothing had happened.  Sadly for me, nothing else did….


  1. Great will power my friend. ..I would have engulfed that cocktail in a second. What's the worst that could have happened if you had?

    1. Loool - good point. But the vibe wasn't quite right, so discretion, valour etc etc!