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THE DAY HE KISSED ME |
| live in a small sea-side town in East Africa
that is a remnant of what was once a thriving Arab colony. Many people in the West would be surprised to find Arabs living here, but we do. My great grand parents sailed here a few hundred years back. I was raised in a cohesive Afro- Arab environment where we Arab folk tend to stick together, as racial minorities usually do. I do not speak Arabic. Instead we speak English at home (the British took over where the Arabs left off). So you can imagine the cultural collision I grew up in; an English speaking Arab in Africa. Well, that was not even half as confusing as when I approached puberty and discovered I was gay. This is a story of my first sexual encounter. For purposes of safeguarding my privacy, I have used pseudonyms. The school I went to was considered the town's best. It provided a British GSCE curriculum and was popular with both locals and expatriates. It was no wonder then that it was full of Arab boys and girls. I found myself very attracted to the boys while they were pre-occupied with adolescent lust for the girls. In the usually closeted life style (that I still live in), I played along. Shared the same tasteless jokes about boobs and pussies, and what-have-you's of the so-called straight lifestyle. But every time I had a hard-on, every time I wanked, there was only one boy in my mind. Mohamed Al- Shatry, 17 year old, tanned, lean muscles with the sexiest eyes God ever made. I was head over heels in love with the boy. We were in the same class, and in time we got to become good friends. Mohamed, unlike me, was popular. He played football (soccer), swam in the Swim Team, partied with the boys, and had all the drooling girls wrapped around his thick middle finger. I was in the Swim Team too, but that was about all I ever did outside the academics. Perhaps one of the reasons I went for swimming practice was to catch a glimpse of Mohamed's sexy body, and that of the other boys. As we got to become closer, I had a feeling that Mohamed knew what I felt for him. He would be very nice to me at all times, and volunteered to help me with my butterfly stroke ( which I never got to muster). Being in the pool with him was an enough erotic encounter. Seeing his muscles, and beautiful chest, hairless, with thick round and very dark nipples. I would get goose bumps just when his legs brushed with mine. I would stare at the hair under his armpits, and his big round ass. I don't think I could ever describe him appropriately. He was beyond words. Sex-bomb. Maybe that would be close. It was at these sessions that I reckon Mohamed must have discovered my infatuation for him. I don't know if he ever saw the bulge in my swimming briefs every time he was close, but he knew. I never brought it up. I was very shy, and still am. Now unlike what I see in American movies, our shower rooms are not open. Both Arabs and Africans do not expose their nudity openly and is seen as uncultured and immoral. Our showers were separated and each had a door you could shut. As such I had never seen a nude man before. One day, Mohamed and I were still in the pool when every one had left. He usually walked home with me as we lived not very far from each other. (ours is a small town.) It was when we were in the showers, Mohamed was drying himself off, when he asked me the strangest question. " Have you ever seen a naked before, Amir?" He asked. I was dumbfound and wondered if I had heard him right. " Excuse Me?" I asked. " Have you ever seen a naked man before?" he asked again in a tone usually reserved for inquiries of the weather. "Yes," I lied, not sure what response he expected or why. He kept on drying himself and then, in a scene I would never ever forget, proceeded to remove his swimming briefs before my very eyes. Oh God, I remember it so vividly, not because of any other reason but well, somebody was answering my prayers. I remember how he took one of his long legs off and I peaked at his crotch as he removed the other. He then looked at me with a grin I hadn't seen in him before. His dick was dark brown, cut of course, still soft. He had a healthy growth of pubic hair, and a low hanging sack of balls, grey in colour. " Do you want to touch it?" He asked. I was still in a state of disbelief. "Why?" I mumbled, rather stupidly. He grinned even wider. He walked up to me and led me into one of the showers, and locked the door. It was like an out of body experience, I didn't have control of anything I was doing. All I felt was my blood racing in my veins, my dick throbbing with excitement, my heart beating like a drum machine. He placed my back on the wall, and in one swift move pushed his thick tongue inside my mouth. It was my first kiss, and I devoured with it with hunger.. we kissed hard and deep, our tongues lapping over each other. My hand moved down to his already erect dick, and began clumsily jerking it. He pulled the strings off my briefs and pulled them down, exposing my hard sixteen year old dick. I cannot explain that virginal sensation I felt as I felt his dick rub against mine, our bodies fused in tight embrace. Mohamed began to lick my ears and it almost blew my mind. I proceeded to lick his nipples, just as I had done in my mind for so long. They felt like rubber on my tongue. I licked all the way down to his pubes where I deeply inhaled the scent. It was like I had gotten high on a drug because I attacked his dick with a vengeance. Mind you, I had no idea how to suck dick, but I was learning along the way. I gagged once or twice but kept on sucking his dick, licking the head and then taking it in, just as I saw being done in (straight) pornos. Mohamed hands were pulling my hair as he was moaning and pushing his cucumber in my mouth, slowly and gently. Then without any warning, he exploded in my mouth one heavy shot of cum. I quickly took his dick out as he shot more on the bathroom floor. I could see the _expression of satisfactory orgasm on his face. He kissed me on my lips again, as he started jerking my dick. Then he started kissing my neck. As I felt my own orgasm approach, I took my dick in my own hand and shot into the air. Mohamed and I kept our embrace even as our dicks began to go soft. He then turned on the shower and began washing me! After our shower, we dressed in silence. My mind was questioning the events. Was this real? My body felt refreshed, almost reborn. I had just had sex with Mohamed, I kept telling myself, not quite believing it. "Are you ready to go?" he asked when he was fully dressed. As I was walking out, he kissed me on my cheek. "You won't tell anyone, will you?". "No." We didn't talk about it on the way home. In fact there was an unusually thick silence between us. It was like Adam and Eve after eating the forbidden fruit. Something in our friendship had changed permanently. It was beautiful, orgasmic, but very very frightening. When I woke up the following morning, I began wondering whether the previous day's events were real. When I saw the suction marks on my neck, I knew that they were. I loved Mohamed even more from that day on. He never mentioned it, even in our own privacy. I watched him fool around with the girls, and wondered how many times he had had sex. He became my whole life to me. Mohamed and I only had sex two other times, real sex that is; but it is always the first that I cherish. It was simple, no penetration or anything like that. But imagine your dream man pull you in a shower room, naked. Yeah, I still get a hard on when I think about it. I wonder if he still does. |
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