Monday, 13 February 2017

New positions, old problems...

It's the weekend, and I've ducked beachhouse invites.  The Syrian, as always, is keen to catch up, and we agree he'll come to my place late in the afternoon.  This is my favourite time for sex - lunch has been digested, the 'hangries' haven't kicked in yet, and I'm not bloated after dinner.  Plus I'm horny as fuck.  My doorbell goes just a few minutes before he's due, and I open it with a flourish, wearing just a t-shirt and jocks, much to the surprise of the man delivering my dry cleaning.  Maintaining my cool, I grab my wallet, pay him, thank him, and vow never to do that again.  When the Syrian does arrive, I'm somewhat more demurely attired (or at least I'm in trackpants), and he enters quickly, sweeping me into his arms and we remain in the foyer, kissing at length.

We eventually move to the couch, I make tea, we kiss, we talk, we smoke and we watch bad TV.  Then he tells me he's not eaten, so let's have some fun then head out for a bite.  I'm good with that, so in we go to the bedroom, where he lands across the bed and I lie down beside him, prime for a 69, but I'm not letting him do that yet.  I want to pleasure him, so I sit up and kiss him gently, then drop my head to his lap, gently licking his balls, running my tongue over them and up his stirring shaft, nipping his inner thighs and repeating this until he's shuddering and spasming.  He grabs my head and drags me off him, flipping me to my back and climbing atop me, kissing me wildly as his hands roam my body, eventually dropping his own head down and beginning to blow me.  It's good, very good, and I wriggle myself a little to the left so I can take his own cock in my mouth and the 69 does begin.

He's all over the place, sucking, licking and biting me, then he cocks a leg into midair and dives into my ass.  As I arch back in pleasure, I see he's got one leg wrapped around my head, and the other resting on the top of the bedhead, perilously close to some artwork.  Acrobatic indeed.

He eventually gets me onto my stomach, and after suiting up and a good squirt of lube he once again wraps his arms around my chest and enters me.  As I said, I want him to have some fun, but it's really quite painful as I endure his thrusts, but I grit my teeth and persevere - he soon rolls me to my back, my legs around his waist, and begins once more.  I think this is one of our favorite positions - we can kiss as we fuck, I'm in no discomfort and he can bang as hard as he likes.

But, I'd seen something in one of the pornos, and I want to try it.  I sit him on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, then lie him back.  Facing forward, my hands on his knees, I lower myself onto his cock and sink downwards.  The roar and gasp from behind tells me he's enjoying, but I found it too deep for comfort.  Keen to experiment, I held position, riding him up and down a bit, leaning forward, backward and so on, but always that deep gut-stirring pain.

I climbed off him and turned around, straddling his hips and kissing him as I maneuvered him back inside me, and I began to rock back and forth on his shaft, kissing him and sucking his ears (gross, but he loves it).  He starts to buck and thrust, one hand on my chest, pushing me back against his drawn knees, the other jerking me off, and I have a full-on shuddering orgasm, striping his chest with my cum and leaving me breathless and gasping.

He quickly withdraws and unsheathes, and with both cocks in hand he milks the last of me and creates his own explosion, drawing me down into an embrace as we catch our collective breath.  We lie together for quite awhile, feeling each others breathing normalize, then he gently pats my rump and tells me it's shower time.

We bathe together and dress in relative quiet, exchanging the occasional kiss as our paths cross in the bedroom, then head out for dinner.

After the meal we go for a walk - my thoughts clouded with the old problem of the looming end to a relationship, his (I thought), by a need for caffeine.  We find a place back near my hotel, but he won't go in.  I mentioned once before what a classist society we live in here, and the Syrian is acutely aware of this.  For those who aren't from the region, it's remarkably easy to identify and differentiate between the various Middle Eastern nationalities and, despite his job and income, he knows where he's pegged on the social scale.

"They will look down on me" is what he says, but from the Lambos, G-wagens and Ferraris parked out front, I suspect any of us might feel the same.  I shrug and we move on maybe 50m, where there is a much quieter spot - an outside table is obtained, coffee is ordered and he produces some cigars.  We sit in relative silence for the duration, talking of frivolous matters occasionally, and as we settle the bill, he smiles wistfully and sighs.  "I shall miss you so much habibi" he says.  Then he wipes a tear from his eye, bids me goodnight and walks to his car without looking back.

I am devastated by this.  I chase him and ask what he means.  He looks surprised and reminds me I'd mentioned some time back my contract was almost up.  "So let us enjoy what we can, while we can" he says as he climbs into the vehicle and drives away.  I went upstairs and got outrageously drunk...


  1. I'm torn as this relationship is so fundamentally casual yet inexplicably intimate and I can so empathize with the sense of impending loss...